The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Marina awakened by degrees. She wasn’t aware of her first conscious thought upon waking, for a host of strange sensations vied for her attention: a wonderful feeling of weightlessness, of a warmth that surrounded every inch of her body, and the quite unwelcome feeling of a stuffy nose.

She decided to focus on the warmth. It felt so peaceful, just lying on her side, and she luxuriated in it, enjoying the perfect feeling. She opened her eyes finally, feeling somewhat groggy, as though she’d been asleep for a week. Fish were swimming lazily in front of her, doing that interminable back and forth that fish do in an aquarium. Pretty, she thought dazedly, lost in their relaxing beauty: there was an orange and white one, that she vaguely remembered was called a clownfish; a small, brightly colored orange and blue one she didn’t know the name of, its lower fins tinted a soft green; there was a foot-long blue and black one with a yellow tail, that darted about constantly; a breathtakingly beautiful reddish-orange one with vertical black stripes; and of course the regulation starfish, clinging to the glass wall of its aquatic home, its back a radiant reddish-gold.

What a lovely aquarium, Marina thought dreamily. Lying here like this, watching them swim about, she could appreciate why people kept them. There was something about the way they moved that was relaxing, soothing. Maybe one day I’ll get an aquarium of my own. But as she continued taking in the aquatic scene, another feeling tugged at her attention, and it was then that she noticed there was something wrong with this picture. Well, that’s strange, she thought, puzzled. I’m looking at that starfish’s back. I should be seeing its underside, shouldn’t I?

Realization flooded through her at that moment, and a muffled scream tore from her throat, the bubbles issuing from her mouth a terrible confirmation of the horror all about her—I’m not looking at an aquarium! I’m inside one!

Marina shot upright, or tried to, only just discovering that her arms were bound behind her. Panic overtook her, and she began struggling against her unseen bonds, thrashing her legs where she lay, and found that they too were bound. Another scream stole from her throat, but she quickly stopped short, the bubbles paradoxically helping to remind her of where she was.

I’m breathing! she thought, lying on her back, her eyes closed tightly, hoping that this was all part of some waking dream, but knowing deep down that it wasn’t. I’m breathing underwater! How...? With an incredible force of will she forced herself to calm down, so that she could ponder the mystery of how she was able to breathe while on the bottom of this nightmare aquarium. My nose...there’s something in my nose. Fighting the urge to panic, she wrinkled her nose, and found that it was indeed plugged, and furthermore she could feel something pressing lightly against the lower part of her cheekbones, looping around to the back of her head. Oh my God, she thought, keeping her eyes resolutely shut, determinedly suppressing the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. How is this possible? Who would...?

Keeping her lips pressed tightly together, in case hysteria should win out over reflex, Marina opened her eyes again, slowly. Her eyes had no more trouble focusing in the water than her lungs had of moving air; another mystery to ponder. She tried to ignore the gently swaying aquatic plants that loomed over her, their movement likely due to her earlier frenzied convulsions, which probably also accounted for the present absence of fish in the general area. She focused her eyes directly above her, and yes, she could see it now, but only very faintly: a single clear tube, about the size of her little finger, running from behind her head and upward, presumably to the top of this tank; an umbilical feeding her air, keeping her alive.

But why would somebody do this to me? Have I been kidnapped? As there was no one to ask, there was no one to answer, but it appeared, for the moment at least, that she was in no immediate danger. She felt rocks beneath her, pressing into her bound arms, which she could now tell were lashed together, forearms touching, her palms cupping her elbows. She tried to bend upwards so that she could sit up, but the constriction of her bindings and the weight of the water pressing down upon her made that all but impossible. With one last valiant effort she wrenched her upper body upward and kicked her bound legs hard, and felt herself propelled forward.

Marina’s eyes opened wide as she came to rest, still on her back, but now several feet from where she’d started. No, this can’t be! It just can’t be! Gritting her teeth, she kicked again, harder this time, and felt her body actually leave the aquarium floor, heading upwards until she was nearly vertical. Oh my fucking God! she screamed inside her head, her eyes downward, locked on the insane vision of her iridescent green tail.

Marina sat upon a largish rock, one that appeared to have been formed of molten lava, but was in reality as soft as a foam mattress, distractedly considering the bright flashing tail that made up her lower body. I’m a mermaid, she thought, her mind focused solely upon that one concept. I’m a mermaid. I’m a mermaidamermaidmermaidmer....

She had been thinking the single thought for the last five minutes, unable to wrest her eyes from the vision of her tail. She hadn’t moved it once since she’d come to rest on the rock, fearing to do so, because if it was a real tail, then she was truly fucked, and if it wasn’t real, then she was just as truly fucked. Finally she could stand it no longer. Ever so slightly she raised it upward, about six inches, and noted with neither triumph nor despair that she couldn’t feel the flow of water over it. Well, she thought, her lips pressed tightly together, that’s settled that. A real mermaid would feel that, wouldn’t she? She tried shifting her hips, to see what exactly she could feel down there, and was rewarded with the sensation of movement of her calves, though very slight, which meant that her magnificent green tail was just an appliance.

But as appliances went, it was really rather beautiful. The scales were fine and clear and evenly spaced, and would sparkle when they caught the light just right. It looked as real as anything in nature, with yellow-gold highlights that set off the green perfectly, a green which also happened to match her own emerald-green eyes.

But who would do this? she whined inwardly, wanting to cry, wondering if she could do so underwater. What is happening? The answers, she knew, lay above her, but she found that she was afraid to go up and have a look, perhaps fearing that what she would find would solidify things all the more, confirm that which was already apparent. She looked about her, her long red hair floating about her shoulders as she did so. The fish were now back to swimming about, seemingly mindless of her presence, accepting that she belonged there, that she too was a denizen of the deep. She was a little surprised that she wasn’t more scared than she was, that she seemed to be accepting things so well, which she put down to low-grade shock. If her mind ever truly came to grips with this underwater reality, she knew she would go completely insane.

But this reality, she noted, was incredibly detailed. Everything that one would normally find in an aquarium was here: rock formations, a set of stone ruins arranged in a circle, plants and aquatic grasses, even a large, open treasure chest with bubbles floating out of it. The lighting was soft and beautiful, with pinks and purples reflecting off the rocks here and there, as well as the soft white light from above.

Someone is fucking with me, she thought, her fear and shock subsiding somewhat, anger seeping in to fill the void, but who, and why? It was time to find out. She tried getting up from her rock but discovered it wasn’t as easy as all that. The construction of her tail was such that her feet were extended fully downward within the rig, as though she were standing en pointe. With her arms bound behind her and her legs immobilized within her tail, normal movement was completely impossible, which was obviously what her captor wanted - if she wanted to move about she was going to have to swim. Throwing caution to the wind, or to the waves at least, Marina leaned back slightly and kicked her tail. She was instantly lifted from the rock and propelled backward. She quickly twisted her upper body and came about, darting right, then left, almost as quickly as the blue and yellow fish she had first seen.

She stopped kicking, and began to sink slowly downward toward the blue rocks that made up the aquarium floor. She flexed her bound ankles once, lightly, and was propelled slowly upward again. At least I’m getting the hang of it, she thought. Well, when in Rome.... Hesitantly she began making her way about the aquarium, preferring the evil she knew down here to the evil she didn’t know up above. She swam around the tall plants, absently wishing that her arms weren’t bound, especially as it caused her to bounce her breasts about as she kicked her tail, their buoyancy causing them to feel larger than they were, though practically weightless in this watery prison. She wove about the periphery of the aquarium, her ability to gauge her distance from the glass aided by the abrupt termination of the blue rock floor, as well as the vertical steel struts into which the glass panels that made up her undersea home had been fitted.

She swam up to the glass that separated her from normality. All she could see outside the glass was white. It looked like a large, open room, judging by the subtle variations in the lighting, but she couldn’t be sure. She could see what must be a door, judging by a slight vertical seam, but there was no hint of anything else: no furniture, no fixtures, and no people.

She continued on, unease growing with every flick of her tail. Using her own height as a yardstick, Marina estimated her underwater enclosure to be approximately one hundred feet long by fifty feet wide, and it was apparent that everything here was designed for safety as well as function. The rock formations had plenty of holes for the other fish to swim through, but none were large enough to allow her to do likewise, thus ensuring that her breathing tube would not get snagged. They also appeared to be completely smooth, to help protect her skin from nasty cuts, she supposed.

It was while swimming along the back side of the tank, or at least what she considered to be the back side, that Marina made a discovery: by floating in a certain spot where the light shone just right, she could faintly make out her reflection in the glass. If she could have gasped she would have. That someone had gone to great lengths to build and stock her watery surroundings was obvious, but they had not stopped there—they had made her over as well.

Her breasts were larger; there was no doubt about that now. She had thought it was an effect of the water, but in this environment she had no way of gauging their weight, and so hadn’t been aware of the change. Her reflection sadly confirmed the truth. Her breasts, whose size she had always considered to be just right, were now much bigger, about the size of grapefruits, big grapefruits. They were so huge on her small frame that she doubted that she would be able to walk without tipping forward, something that was not a problem here. In fact, they seemed to help her buoyancy.

While her boobs might have been the most obvious change (apart from her tail, which she now unconsciously flexed so as to stay in the same spot), her captors had made other alterations to their pet mermaid, as well. Her long red hair had been dyed a few shades darker, giving it a lustrous, smoky quality; and her lips were indeed fuller, plumped up with collagen, though not to the point of looking like a porn star, at least not quite.

Her eyes looked different, too, but her distance from the glass was such that she couldn’t see what precisely had been done, although considering the ease with which she could see in this saltwater, she knew that she must be wearing some sort of protective contact lenses. But there was something that she could see: clear tubing, barely visible, exiting her nostrils and following the line of her cheekbones, looping up and over her ears, disappearing into her hair.

She wanted to cry, angered that someone had taken such liberties with her body, but more than that she was frightened by what it meant. Obviously her captor, or captors, had money—an aquarium this size was certainly proof of that. But her kidnapper also had the means to perform surgery upon her, and allow it to fully heal without her being aware of it. How long did it take a woman to recover from breast implant surgery? One week? Two weeks?

And what about my job? she spoke inwardly, robbed of the ability to do so outwardly. What about my family? My friends? What about...? She looked absently at her reflection for several moments, her face as blank as her mind. I can’t remember... she thought, stunned that not only had her voice and her liberty been taken from her, so too had her memories. I work at... But that file drawer was locked, and her reflection in the glass visibly showed her frustration at being unable to remember that which she must have done every day. I live at...?

An unutterable rage welled up within her, further exacerbated by her inability to move her arms, and without realizing what she was doing she jerked backward and flexed her tail, causing her nearby tankmates to scatter. She darted quickly about in her anger and frustration, not knowing what to do, only knowing that she needed to do something. She raced around the main rock formation three times, dodging and darting about the frightened and confused fish, her rage fueled all the more by the knowledge that she must look very fish-like herself.

Marina zoomed around the tank at top speed, again and again, her tail flashing brightly, narrowly avoiding colliding with the glass at every turn, as though knowing the periphery of her surroundings by instinct. But all her flight around the tank did was to expend a frustration she could do nothing about. Finally, with no place left to go, she went up.

It was difficult to tell how far it was to the surface, which appeared to be a bright though featureless white. She made her way slowly upward, her umbilical apparently retracting with her as she did so. It was as she got to within a foot of the surface that Marina was able to make out the fine details of the ceiling of her world. A thick layer of Plexiglas hung precisely at the level of the water, its length and breadth dotted with perfectly circular cutouts, larger than a finger, but smaller than a fist. Several feet above that was frosted glass, from which the white light emanated. There was sound up here, too, a humming of pumps and other electrical equipment.

She found where her umbilical disappeared into to an opaque white bowl about eighteen inches in diameter by a foot deep. The lip of the bowl was pressed up against the Plexiglas, presumably by the pressure of the water beneath. It was not fixed there, but appeared to move about in response to her location in the tank, its locomotion made possible due to a number of tiny holes that dotted the lower third of it, she judged. She thought about nudging it with her shoulder, or even swiping at it with her tail, perhaps forcing her captors out into the open should she upset it, but as it was the only thing keeping her from drowning she quickly discarded the idea.

She swam back and forth across the top of the tank, attempting to find some means of escape, which she had known at the outset would be a fruitless exercise, but what else was there for her to do? She found a clear hatch with Plexiglas hinges near one end of the tank, its size appropriate to admit one mermaid. She bumped it with her shoulder but it didn’t budge. Defeated she swam back down to the bottom of the tank, a little tired from her exertions, and sat upon her rock so that she might think.

Someone wants me to be a mermaid. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to make me a mermaid. But why me? she asked herself. Surely there must be thousands of women who would voluntarily do this.

That tells you something about your captor then, doesn’t it? she answered herself. The kind of person, or people, who have done this didn’t want a volunteer. A volunteer would probably enjoy it too much, would have her own agenda. But a captive would be scared, and wary; someone to better maintain the illusion for them.

Then where are they? Why aren’t they outside the glass watching me, getting their rocks off to the image of the pretty, big-boobed mermaid swimming around helplessly? To that she had no answer, for there was no one to be seen in the dry world outside her watery prison.

Well, if they were wanted her to be scared, they had gotten their wish. But she was nonetheless surprised at how well she was dealing with her situation. Someone, or someones, had abducted her, removed her memories, stuffed her breasts full of silicone, fitted her with a tail, and dumped her in an aquarium to quite literally sink or swim, and she was holding it together pretty well, all things considered. But now that the shock was beginning to wear off, another feeling was settling in—she was beginning to get bored, and truth to tell, a little lonely as well.

Marina kicked off from her rock and made another circuit of her aquarium, now actually hoping to see someone, but there was still nothing and no one outside the tank. For lack of anything better to do she stopped at the spot where she could see herself in the glass. She watched herself float for a while, trying to see herself as her unknown captor might. She had to admit that they really had done a good job of her. Her long red hair floated softly about her, making her look more attractive than she probably was. She looked at her new breasts awhile, and with each passing minute found her original dislike of them washing away. She stared in rapt fascination as they floated softly up and down in response to the minute kicks she employed to help keep herself stable. Unaware that she was smiling slightly, she shimmied her shoulders briefly, and watched as they bobbled about in slow motion, entranced by their soft beauty.

But the feature that most captivated her was her tail. It really was quite remarkable. There were no visible gaps between the appliance and her skin, she noted, inwardly marveling at its artistry, lost in its meticulous detail, until a new thought crowded out her nascent narcissism. How am I supposed to pee? She looked around the immediate area, hoping for some kind of explanation or inspiration as to how she was supposed to urinate when the entire lower half of her body was completely inaccessible, and that was when she saw the shadow.

It flowed across the blue rock floor, moved sedately over her, and then further on across the tank. Panic flooded her being, and she instinctively bolted toward the only cover that she knew within her aquarium: the low grasses in the center of the stone ruins. She settled herself in quickly amidst the softly swaying grass, noting that the other fish appeared to have made themselves scarce, too. Once she was sure that she was reasonably well hidden, Marina chanced a look upward to see who, or what, was up there.

A lone figure undulated lazily across the top of the tank, in no particular hurry to get anywhere, it seemed. Another mermaid, Marina thought, it being easy to discern her identity due to the telltale tail silhouetted against the white light shining from above. She wondered if this new mermaid had been dropped into the tank, as she undoubtedly had been, but then a pair of lithe arms extended outward from the new arrival’s body, causing Marina to realize that her new tankmate was probably not a draftee.

Marina kept as low as she could, her heart beating wildly in her chest, thankful that there were no bubbles to give her away, and that the green of her tail might well be camouflaged by the seagrass. She lay belly-down on the aquarium floor, her head turned to the side, one eye warily watching this new mermaid. The new arrival did not appear to see her. She continued to swim about in the upper reaches of the tank, her long hair trailing behind her. Marina wondered if she shouldn’t just show herself, but her instincts told her to stay put, to remain hidden, until it was discovered whether the other mermaid was predator or otherwise.

The new mermaid halted her swimming a moment later, looking as though she had seen something of interest on the bottom of the tank. She dove quickly downward, her body undulating with a practiced grace. Marina watched, trembling, as the new mermaid swooped over her, and then settled down to kneel in front of the sea chest. From her vantage point Marina could barely make out what she was doing, but it looked like she was rooting around in the chest, searching for something specific, perhaps.

With the new mermaid only ten or so feet from her, Marina could see, whenever the slowly weaving grasses parted before her eyes, that she was very beautiful. She appeared to be a few years older than Marina, and her hair was long, dark, and lustrous; so dark that it gave off blue highlights as it caught the light. It wafted about her olive-skinned shoulders, flowing gently whenever she moved her head. She had an oval face, which made her look distinctly Mediterranean, and she appeared to be wearing makeup, which almost managed to disguise the transparent breathing tubes exiting her nose. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, with long lashes that made them seem even bigger, and her full, sensuous lips appeared to have been given the same treatment as her own.

Marina was unsurprised to see that the other mermaid’s breasts, too, were quite large, larger even than her own forcibly enhanced ones. Whether fake or not, though, they did look stunning, and Marina couldn’t help but feel that they were perfectly suited to her, floating and bobbing gently as she moved. She was sure they weren’t real, and had to stifle a small laugh—were she walking down a street in the outside world, nobody would notice anything about her other than her tits; such exaggerated masses would certainly be all anyone would see. And that was when Marina realized why they looked so perfect here: they had to be big in order to visually balance the large mass of her tail. Her own bigger boobs, and presumably those of the new mermaid as well, were an aesthetic choice!

The other mermaid must have found what she was looking for within the chest, for she waved her arms and floated backward, landing lightly upon the largish rock that Marina had been using as a settee. Now that she was sitting down Marina could better see the new mermaid’s tail. It was a vibrant, deep blue, with silvery scales that sparkled gently in the soft light. She sat there now, combing out her long hair with a golden brush that she must have got from the chest, looking for all the world like the classic mermaid straight out of children’s folklore.

What should I do now? Marina wondered, her lips pressed together in apprehension, show myself, or stay hidden But the answer to that question became quickly apparent, for the new mermaid ceased brushing her hair and placed her hands in her lap, turned her head slightly, and fixed Marina with a pleasant, expectant smile.

Marina kicked lightly, and rose from out of her hiding place. The other mermaid’s smile broadened, and she held out a hand in a gesture of welcome. Marina moved forward, though warily, for while this new mermaid seemed friendly, her arms weren’t bound, which meant that she would be completely at her mercy. She undulated closer, a distinct feeling of silliness drawing over her, for she knew how she must look, wiggling about like a big-titted carp. When she was within arm’s length, though certainly not her own, Marina noticed her eyes, and were it not for the fact that she was underwater she would have gasped in surprise. Her irises were dark, almost violet, but it wasn’t their unique coloration that startled her, but rather the fact that they didn’t look remotely human, instead looking somewhat rough and pebbled like those of a fish.

With some difficulty Marina tore her eyes away from the new mermaid’s strange contact lenses, and noticed for the first time the silver chain she wore around her slender neck. It was quite beautiful, each link a sterling silver figure eight, the two ends joined together at the hollow of her throat by a small, beaten-silver plaque, engraved upon it a single word in elegant script - Pelagia.

Their faces were a little more than a foot apart now, and Marina, her inability to speak making her feel all the more helpless, widened her eyes slightly and nodded at the silver plaque. Is that you?

Still smiling, the olive-skinned mermaid tilted her head slightly and nodded. Yes, I am Pelagia.

Well, that’s lovely, Marina thought, frustrated by their slow and silent communication. So what do we do now? Pelagia seemed nice, but there were only two things she could be: one of her captors, down here with her victim to do God only knew what; or another involuntary mermaid, one who had been down here for God only knew how long. But she wasn’t offering any harm, which was a place to start. Marina twisted her hips, causing her to turn her back on her new friend, in the hope that she might release her from her bindings.

Marina felt Pelagia’s hands rest lightly upon her shoulders, and then felt herself being pushed gently downward to kneel upon the blue rock floor. She started to shake her head in consternation, but the next moment felt the hairbrush being drawn through her hair. She sighed, exhaling a frustrated breath into her breathing tube, and resigned herself to her fate. With her arms bound she was in the other mermaid’s power; she might as well go along with the game until Pelagia got bored of it.

But after several minutes of the constant hair stroking, Pelagia showed no sign that she was about to lose interest. Her touch was sure and firm, and with each stroke of the brush Marina felt her anxieties ebbing away. Who knew having your hair brushed could make you feel so good? she thought. But it was more than that. It was the feeling of the water surrounding every inch of her, warming her, supporting her, caressing her. It was the feeling of her enlarged bosom, ponderous yet without weight. It was a timeless, peaceful, and quiet existence, free of worry and fear.

But despite the climate control afforded by the water surrounding her, Marina was beginning to feel queerly hot, and with each pull of the brush through her hair the hot feeling increased. She bent her head downwards in response to a gentle push from her sister mermaid, who began brushing out the back of her scarlet mane, employing maddeningly slow strokes, the sensuous feeling of the brush sliding through her hair causing Marina to stifle a moan.

Looking down as she was, Marina was forced to take in the view of the two gently wobbling masses beneath. They’re so big, she thought, a dreaminess beginning to overtake her, and she found herself becoming lost in the visual of her big boobs as they bobbled about in that slow-motion that being underwater imparts. She could feel her heart pumping now, could feel her artificially-aided respirations increasing, those feelings seeming to double and redouble with every stroke of the brush, and she closed her eyes, determined to avoid the incredible turn-on of seeing her fat tits wobbling about. But all this did was to focus her attentions on her sense of touch, perhaps the only sense that was still available to her in this underwater environment. Unable to block out the erotic sensations that this simple hair brushing was inspiring within her, Marina pressed her lips together tightly, suppressing yet another moan, yet unable to suppress the sudden realization that she wished it was her body that was receiving Pelagia’s gentle touch.

But I’m not gay, am I? she asked herself, her frazzled mind stressed almost to the breaking point.

Aren’t you? another part of her replied coolly.

Of course I’m not! she answered herself, but the growing heat in her belly, and a most definite itch between her bound legs gave lie to that thought. I’m being seduced, she thought. Whoever these people are, they’re toying with me, playing with my mind. Marina leaned forward, attempting to get away from the rock, but Pelagia seemed to expect this, her fingers quickly seizing the younger mermaid’s flowing hair, thus preventing any further forward movement from her.

Marina was guided back to her kneeling position at the foot of the rock, at which point Pelagia brought the hairbrush around and held it at eye level for her to look at. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to see, but then Pelagia twisted her hand around, thus revealing that the back of the hairbrush was a mirror.

I’m beautiful, Marina gasped inwardly, and her fears and worries instantly dissipated, mesmerized as she was by her reflection. Like Pelagia, she was wearing makeup, which she could only assume had been painted on her (she hoped it wasn’t tattooed). Her pouty lips were a glossy coral: full, rich, and inviting. Her cheekbones above her breathing tubes were rosy, though subtly done, and bespoke good health and an unmistakable sexual vitality. But it was her eyes that made her forget everything else. They were a startling emerald green, so much more vivid than her own, and like Pelagia’s they had that slightly pebbled look that could only belong to a creature of the deep. Her eyeshadow precisely matched her coral lips, and had been beautifully graduated out to pink until it blended imperceptibly with her skin. I look like a work of art, she thought. I am a work of art.

Pelagia pulled the mirror up and away, drawing Marina out of her reverie. She turned her head with it, hungrily following her receding reflection, looking up just as her sister mermaid’s lips made contact with her own. She whimpered as Pelagia’s tongue slipped between her full lips, for the first time since awakening tasting something that was not herself. “Mmph,” she whimpered again, weaker than before, submitting to the kiss, jettisoning any worries as to her as yet unremembered sexual preference.

Pelagia’s lithe arms snaked around the young mermaid’s lower back, turning her and pulling her in close. Marina melted into her embrace, enjoying the sensation of their breasts mashing together, firm globes sliding across one another as they tongue wrestled. Marina’s every nerve ending was singing now, and she could feel her confined pussy desperately aching for contact, but sheathed as it was within her tail there was no hope of that happening.

The kiss was broken by Pelagia, who pulled away slowly, so that neither of them would accidentally swallow any saltwater. Marina was surprised to discover that they had drifted a little ways during their kiss, and that the two of them had fetched up right next to the sea chest. Pelagia looked down upon her newly acquired inamorata, giving her a knowing smile and a wink, then straightened up and began searching for something within the chest.

She’s so beautiful, Marina thought, enthralled by the soft bobbing of her sister mermaid’s breasts as she rooted about. I wish I could touch them. But bound as she was, she was forced to settle in the short term for nuzzling them, which she did in earnest, enjoying the feeling of the massy melons as they drifted back and forth across her brow. Pelagia’s face returned to view moments later, her expression suffused with an unutterable lust, and Marina’s poor, confined pussy practically boiled over in sympathy.

Holding the rim of the sea chest for leverage, Pelagia slipped her free arm under Marina and lifted her up so that they were face to face once more. Marina sighed pleasantly as her mouth was invaded yet again by the senior mermaid’s slippery tongue. She was content to drift like this forever, perfectly at home in the comforting embrace of the sea, safe and loved in Pelagia’s arms. But as the kiss continued she felt a curious sensation between her breasts, some slippery thing sliding between them.

“Mmph?” Marina pulled her head back, automatically closing her lips against the surrounding water, to discover that a long, black eel had lodged itself within her considerable cleavage, and that it was furthermore being wielded by her sister mermaid. Smiling mischievously, Pelagia withdrew the rubbery toy from the confines of the younger mermaid’s plenteous bosom and held it up for her to inspect, wiggled it slightly for effect, and then returned it to it’s hiding place between her buoyant, wobbling breasts.

Marina started to laugh, but remembering that she was thirty feet underwater settled for a muted giggle. That thing is huge! she thought, mentally comparing the flexible dildo to her forearm and coming up slightly short. I wish I could feel it inside me, but nestled between her boobs it felt pretty good all the same. Pelagia darted in again, and Marina accepted the kiss ravenously, allowing her sister mermaid’s eel-like tongue to explore her mouth as though it were a sea cave.

They thrashed about for several minutes, Marina’s mind becoming increasingly unhinged as Pelagia continued plying the dildo between her fat tits and tongue-raping her mouth. Oh, God, this is all too much, she thought, panting into her breathing tube, able to feel her neglected pussy, swollen with lust, yet unable to do anything about it. Frustrated, she pulled away, breaking the kiss so that she could take a breather, and turned her head to the side, and that was when she saw the man.

He sat just outside the glass, looking at her, at the two of them, a pleased, relaxed expression on his face. Pelagia broke away, and swam over to the glass, as if she were presenting herself for inspection, and then looked back at her, wordlessly indicating that she should do the same. Marina kicked hard, rising upward and forward, and warily approached the glass, curious and fearful of seeing the person who was responsible for trapping her in this giant aquarium.

The first thing she noticed about the man was his wheelchair, and the second thing was that he was quite old. He wore a white, elegantly cut linen suit, white shirt, white gloves, and a white broad-brimmed Panama hat perched upon his white-haired head. His skin, too, was white, like bleached parchment, and he had a wispy white goatee. Against the white walls behind him he was barely visible. The only spots of color about him were his eyes, a crystal-clear baby blue that looked oddly out of place when contrasted with his ancient, lined face, and the silk band of his hat, its color a perfect match for his eyes.

The man continued looking at her, and Marina found his attention most disconcerting, firstly because she was bare-breasted in front of a man she didn’t know, and secondly because she had never seen a man look at her in quite the way he was. His eyes were alive with interest, but there was no hint of lechery in his expression, no apparent lust for the big-boobed mermaids floating softly in front of him. His sat calmly, his gloved hands folded upon his thigh, his wrinkled white face upturned, considering her, appraising her, his demeanor completely relaxed, as though her appearance were somehow soothing to him.

Despite herself Marina found herself relaxing under his pleasant gaze, and looked sideways to see if Pelagia was experiencing a similar reaction, only to discover that her sister mermaid was no longer there. But a swirl of turbulence at her back announced her presence, a feeling of soft hands upon her upper arms, then of a stiff leathery sort of something being removed from her forearms, followed seconds later by the welcome freedom from her constriction. She turned, effortlessly now, her arms light and graceful, and Pelagia floated into her embrace, resuming their interrupted kiss, which Marina returned enthusiastically, her hands exploring every inch of her sister mermaid.

This is heaven, Marina thought, reveling in the feeling of Pelagia’s full breasts, all the while relishing the feeling of her sister mermaid’s hands upon her own ripe melons, but then Pelagia broke away from her, gave her a lascivious smile and a wink, and spun around and took off, her tail fin flashing brightly.

Marina laughed inwardly, and followed the mischievous mermaid, playfully, joyfully, uncaring that they were being watched, uncaring that she’d been placed here for the enjoyment of others. She swooped and dove as her sister mermaid did, enjoying the merry chase, delighting in the feeling of the water streaming over her body. Twice around the stone ruins she wove, barely able to keep pace with the more experienced mermaid, over the top of the rock formation and down the backside, only to discover that Pelagia was gone.

Marina looked left, then right, but could find no trace of her friend. She can’t have gone out the top, I would have seen her, she thought, apprehensive at the idea of being alone again. She must be close by. Marina looked right again, to see a few fish swimming slowly back and forth. She turned her head back to the left, the tall aquatic plants swaying softly, a dead giveaway. Marina dashed up to the sparse curtain and peered through, to spy Pelagia kneeling before the open sea chest. Smiling broadly, Marina parted the foliage and swam through, mindful of her umbilical, and floated down to kneel behind her sister mermaid, knowing that her silent arrival would not surprise her, due to the subtle turbulence the more experienced mermaid would undoubtedly feel.

She placed her alabaster hands gently upon the smooth shoulders of her new friend, then brought them down and around so that she could cup her buoyant breasts. I’m so happy, she thought, nuzzling the base of Pelagia’s neck with her forehead, feeling perfectly at home, replete with peace in her warm, underwater surroundings. I don’t know what my life was like before, but I know I’m happy now. She stroked and kneaded Pelagia’s full breasts, sensing the vibrations of Pelagia’s moans through their skin-to-skin contact.

Marina lost all track of time, kneeling there, enjoying the feel of firm flesh, when her hands dipped toward the bottom of Pelagia’s tan globes, and felt something odd drag along her knuckles. Curious, she moved her right hand downward, her fingers instinctively closing around the tubular protrusion jutting from Pelagia’s fist, and, giggling slightly, began automatically stroking it.

The dildo felt so right, but at the same time felt so wrong, for there was no place to put it, no function it could really serve while she was in this watery enclosure, and she gave a small moan, disappointed that she would not feel it inside her. But then Pelagia waved her arms, turning her beautiful body around to face her red-tressed lover, and Marina’s disappointment turned to amazement as she realized that Pelagia wasn’t holding the dildo—she was wearing it!

But how...? she wondered, staring disbelievingly at the thick, fake penis protruding from the front of Pelagia’s tail. If it was the same one that she had plied between her boobs earlier, then that could only mean the other half of its considerable length was now inside her, and Marina’s hands went quickly to her own lap, feeling about for some indentation, some entrance to her own private grotto. Pelagia drifted closer and placed her hands upon the smaller mermaid’s forearms, and Marina looked up into her beautiful olive-skinned face. There was a smile there, but it was a rueful one, one that said quite plainly that her search would be in vain. Marina felt disappointed, frustrated at the unfairness of it, but that feeling was short lived, for Pelagia, her smile no longer rueful, took Marina’s face in both hands and kissed her.

“Mmm...” the younger mermaid moaned as Pelagia’s skillful tongue darted about inside her mouth, and she giggled despite her disappointment and frustration, the head of the dildo tickling the bottoms of her breasts as Pelagia wriggled passionately about. This is so much fun, Marina thought, lost in the pleasurable kiss, her consciousness so overwhelmed that she only dimly registered the feeling of her body being lifted upward, until she felt her sister mermaid reach around and take her by her tail and raise it up, forcing her to lie horizontally ten feet above the blue rock floor, her free hand groping at her rounded bottom, or where her bottom would be, were it not covered by her false tail.

“Mmmph?” she mumbled in surprise, her eyes wide, for she felt a finger probing her sopping sex. Oh, my God, she thought, there must be a slit back there! Her mind snapped back to coherence, her heart racing faster, hoping that her overpowering lust might actually be requited. Marina moaned weakly as Pelagia slipped a finger inside her, and then another, and began moving them around with practiced skill, sending shivers throughout the younger mermaid’s body. Oh, please fuck me, she thought heatedly, her encased thighs vibrating within their man-made cocoon. Please fuck me. I can’t take much more. Pelagia then straightened her back, breaking the kiss, and fixed the younger mermaid with a stare that left her in no doubt that she was about to receive her wish.

Marina let out an audible moan as the dildo slipped inside her, the bubbles carrying her passionate exhalation upwards, towards a freedom she no longer cared about. It was so wonderful, to be fucked like this, caressed by the sea, held aloft, utterly weightless. Even though she had no memory, Marina knew she had never been fucked like this. The fake cock flowed into her, surging gently but insistently, filling her up completely, holding there for an all too brief moment, then flowed back out, leaving her empty, desperately awaiting Pelagia’s passion to surge into her again, and again.

But how can this be? she wondered, the rational part of her mind distracting her from what she knew must be the best sex she’d ever had. I should feel water down there, chafing. They must have put something inside me, she reasoned, some kind of liner, or a female condom, to keep the saltwater out. She tried concentrating on the feelings coming from her lower half, to see if she was right, but all she could feel was an indescribable pleasure emanating from her pussy, at which point the rational part of her mind told her to stop thinking and enjoy it.

She opened her eyes, desiring nothing more than to take in the vision of the mermaid pumping resolutely away at her tail. Pelagia had one arm wrapped around her tail, keeping it upright as she plunged away at her, their frenzied movements causing both of their tails to flash brightly. Pelagia’s violet eyes were locked on hers, and she wore a rapturous expression that probably matched her own. Marina rolled her head languidly to the side, and discovered that they were now floating in the center of their aquarium, and that the lighting outside the tank had changed subtly, grown darker, allowing her to see their reflections in the reinforced glass. We’re so beautiful, she thought dazedly, entranced by the image of the two floating bodies, their long hair flowing softly about them, the tail fins twitching with every thrust. She looked downward to see the old man continuing to stare up at them with benign interest.

Oh, please don’t let this end, Maria thought, her back arched, her altered body greedily accepting the powerful thrusts of her aquatic lover. She held out her hands to Pelagia, who relinquished her hold on her tail and took both of them in her own. Their hands clasped tightly together, Pelagia set a new rhythm, first pulling Marina into her, and then pushing her away. Marina watched their reflections in the glass, transfixed, their bodies joined only by their hands and by the double-headed dildo, engaging in a sexual underwater ballet of unimaginable beauty.

Marina was taking deep breaths now, inhaling sharply through her nostrils, hoping that the mechanism assisting her breathing could possibly keep up. She could feel her whole body trembling, her already overpowering need for release growing steadily with every thrust of the dildo. Oh, God, she thought feverishly, frantically clutching Pelagia’s fingers, I’m going to cum! Oh, please let me cum! Smiling lasciviously, as though having read her sister mermaid’s mind, Pelagia altered her rhythm, employing longer, slower strokes, sliding the eel in and out of Marina’s receptive tailhole with merciless precision, allowing her to feel every ridge and bump of the plastic invader.

Her orgasm hit her with the force of a tsunami, and Marina closed her eyes as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her. Unable to scream, the involuntary mermaid began eliciting a series of long, soulful moans, the vibrations coming from her throat eerily reminiscent of the love songs of humpback whales. Time lost all meaning for her, locked in the throes of a climax more powerful than any she was sure she had ever known, her tail twitching, her ponderous breasts rolling back and forth in response to Pelagia’s slowing thrusts.

As her rapturous feelings slowly subsided, she opened her eyes again and gazed upon the beautiful, dark-haired mermaid. Marina tried to pull Pelagia closer, for a little post-coital cuddle, but between the dildo buried within her and the dynamics of her new anatomy she could not bend enough to do so. Pelagia seemed to know what she wanted though, and smiled knowingly. Placing one hand high up on Marina’s tail she pushed sideways, spinning the impaled mermaid about on her axis, and a torrent of bubbles issued from Marina’s mouth as still more pleasurable sensations were sent to her already sexually shell-shocked brain.

After being spun one hundred and eighty wonderful degrees, her thoroughly sensitized body experiencing almost that number of mini-gasms, Marina felt herself being pulled gently upwards by her shoulders, her body as limp as a rag doll’s, until she was fully upright, her back cushioned against Pelagia’s soft bosom. Her sister mermaid’s arms then closed around her upper body, settling over her enlarged boobs. There they rested awhile, neither of them moving, save for Pelagia, who gave her lover a soft grope every so often, as well as an occasional swish of her tail to keep them from slowly sinking to the aquarium floor.

Marina opened her eyes languidly, her body and mind in a state of complete relaxation. The old man still sat on the other side of the glass, looking placidly upward at the two of them, and at his feet, she now saw, a pair of Siamese cats, curiously pawing the tank wall. She realized that she was smiling, and upon realizing this her smile became even broader. I’m so happy, she thought. I don’t care that this is all an illusion. I don’t care that we’re not real mermaids, or that this aquarium is just some rich man’s folly. I’m warm and loved, surrounded by beauty. What could possibly be wrong with that?

As if in answer, Pelagia removed her hand from Marina’s soft breast and waved her arm, causing the both of them to spin about, and began maneuvering them back toward the large, flat faux-rock. With every movement of Pelagia’s hips, the dildo inside of Marina shifted, and she found that she was enjoying the ride immensely. When they reached the rock Pelagia turned them about, a swish of her tail and a wave of her arm caused them both to become horizontal, and together they slowly drifted downward, coming to rest on their sides.

The two mermaids lay together on the soft bed, front to back, their bodies warmed by the surrounding water and the afterglow of good sex. Marina wondered what else lay in store for her. Was Pelagia going to fuck her again? It would be so nice to talk with her, to ask her things, like how she was supposed to go to the bathroom, or eat, but she had no doubt that these things would be revealed to her in due course, and she would forego speech altogether if it meant she had to leave this beautiful aquarium.

I’m home, she thought, enjoying the feel of Pelagia’s hand upon her breast, drowsiness beginning to overtake her. This is home now. I don’t care what might be out there in the world for me, I don’t even care what memories I’ve lost. This is where I belong. This is my home.

Marina closed her eyes, her mechanically-assisted breathing slow and steady, but then a most unpleasant thought occurred to her, and she opened her eyes again, the flora and fauna of her undersea world a wondrous sight to behold. Please don’t be a dream. Please, God, don’t let this be a dream. And with that she closed her eyes again, and drifted off to sleep, giving herself to the warm embrace of the sea.

Jillian awakened by degrees. She wasn’t aware of her first conscious thought upon waking, for a host of strange sensations vied for her attention: an unpleasant feeling of weight, of a coldness that surrounded every inch of her body, and the quite unwelcome scent of air freshener.

No! she screamed inside her head, keeping her eyes resolutely shut, her fingers clutching desperately at the bedsheets. No, this isn’t fair! Let this be the dream! My name is not Jillian, it’s Marina. I’m not a bank teller from Minneapolis, with a shitty apartment and an even shittier ex-boyfriend who still comes over once a week for some pity sex. I’m a beautiful mermaid. I have an aquarium...and...I have a lover! Her name is...her name is.... Jillian tried to remember the other mermaid’s name, could feel it dancing on the tip of her tongue, but the more she concentrated the more it seemed to slip away. She could see still her face though, her olive skin, her sensuous mouth, and most of all her violet eyes, deep and compelling. She continued poring over the memory of her dream lover’s face, a face of such unearthly beauty, she finally admitted to herself, that it just couldn’t be real. Oh, well, she thought, wrinkling her nose slightly, coming to accept the hopeless reality of a land-borne life, it was such a nice dream. Maybe I’ll have it again.

Jillian reluctantly opened her eyes. The hotel room could hardly be called five-star, but it was decent enough for a working girl on vacation. “So what’ll it be today, Jillian?” she said, addressing the slightly dingy ceiling, trying to sound cheerful, but hating the sound of her voice, the memory of the blessed silence of her aquatic dream life still fresh in her mind. “Tour some lava fields? Learn to hula dance? Go out on a boat and watch some dolphins?” She closed her eyes again, briefly imagining herself swimming along with a herd of dolphins, her tail flashing in the bright Pacific sunlight, and sighed. It really had been just the loveliest dream.

“Oh, knock it off, you silly bitch. You’ve got nine days left in paradise. No point spending them in bed, unless it’s with some hunky surfer dude.” Jillian giggled at that thought. Wouldn’t her shitty ex-boyfriend Bob enjoy seeing some pictures of that: her with her arms wrapped around a muscular, brown-skinned Hawaiian beach bum, or perhaps a beautiful hula dancer, or maybe even two?

“But I’m not gay,” she said to the empty room.

Aren’t you? her inner voice challenged, the image of her mermaid lover resurfacing in her mind, causing Jillian to feel an answering tingle in her sadly accessible groin.

“No, I’m not,” she replied petulantly. “Now quit obsessing over a silly dream and get moving, girl.” She sighed one more time, and then rolled over, and felt an unaccustomed weight shift across her chest.

“Oh...my...God,” Jillian said numbly, standing before the mirror five seconds later, holding her grapefruit-sized breasts in her hands, her eyes wide in stunned disbelief. “It was real,” she whispered to her equally shocked reflection. “It really happened.” She stood there for an unknowable count of seconds, seeing herself as if she were again looking at her ghostly half-reflection in the glass wall of her aquarium, her arms underneath her enhanced boobs, cradling them as carefully as she would a newborn. “But how...?” she started, bringing a hand up to her puffy, collagen-injected lips, running her fingers slowly across them, so lost in her reconfigured image that completing a single thought was a daunting challenge. “How could they...?” she tried again, but was distracted by the discovery of yet another change: her triangular red bush, the thing that proved that her titian hair was indeed natural, had been completely shorn.

“Oh my God...” she whispered to her mute twin, bringing her hand down to cover her naked, vulnerable pussy, aware that she now resembled a superbuxom version of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. “How...?” she repeated, her emerald eyes wide as she continued staring at her reflection, the fingers of her left hand unconsciously kneading her right breast. “This isn’t possible! This much plastic surgery would take weeks!” A thought struck her then, causing her wide eyes to widen further. “Oh, no....” she whispered through dry lips, reached down and retrieved her cell phone from atop the low dresser in front of her.

“The twenty-fourth...” she said weakly, shock on the very edge of her consciousness, threatening to break in. “Nine days...they took nine days from me.” Her legs gave out, and she collapsed back onto the bed. Jillian looked at down at her knees, unsure what to think or feel, knowing that she should be feeling something, but unable to focus on a single thought. She looked at the phone again. “10:20 AM,” she said, her voice almost a drone. “I’m supposed to be at the airport in three hours.”

Jillian looked back up, her head swimming, her image in the mirror dazed and reeling. But sitting down on the edge of the bed, her porn-star body no longer the focus of her attention, she noticed something laying on the room’s other queen-size bed: a silver garment bag. Slowly she turned her head, feeling as if she were back underwater, and looked at the unused bed. The mirror wasn’t lying, it was there, all right; something that hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep. She got up from the bed shakily, as though still getting her land legs, and made her way delicately to the spare bed.

She bent over the garment bag, her unfamiliar breasts almost causing her to topple forward, and, pressing her lips tightly together, slid the zipper down a foot. Scintillating green material shone brightly, and Jillian, her eyes wide in excitement, pulled the zipper all the way down quickly. “Oh my...” she said breathlessly, and pulled the bag’s contents out into the light.

Standing before the mirror again, Jillian held the strapless cocktail dress against her sizable bosom, enthralled by its beauty. It flowed downward, the green material glittering like a million tiny emeralds, a bit of gold here and there to visually offset the green, all the way to the floor, where it belled out slightly, completely obscuring her tiny feet. “Oh...” she started, feeling a little lightheaded, but was simply too awestruck to form words.

Jillian turned back to the garment bag, to see if there were matching shoes at the bottom of it, and found that there were indeed a pair of glittering green spike heels there, as well as an envelope, unsigned and unsealed. Holding her dress against her with her forearm, she opened the flap, peeked in, and pulled out a small stack of crisp, green one-thousand dollar bills, which her experience as a bank teller told her would number twenty. They were secured with a plain paper band, beneath which was a stiff piece of paper, very like business card stock, upon which was printed just seven words: for a reduction, or a new wardrobe.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” she whispered, sinking back down onto the bed, her earlier lightheadedness gaining strength, threatening to make her faint. Her hands dropped to her lap, and the dress with it, exposing her enlarged boobs and obscuring her lower body completely, making her look like a mermaid again. “Not bad, Jillian,” she said caustically, “twenty grand, stripper tits, and a sparkly dress and shoes. How many whores get that much for one fuck?”

She sat on the bed, trying to feel sorry for herself, but some small, defiant part of her wasn’t having any. Knock it off, Jillian. You weren’t paid for your pussy, and you know it. They took nine days of your life, paid you handsomely for it, and even showed you a good time. Has the bank done as much for you?

“I suppose not,” she said aloud, feeling a little less peevish. She opened the envelope again, so that she could put her newfound treasure away, and realized that there was something else inside it. She dropped the stack of bills onto her lap, and slid the contents into her empty palm, gasping when she realized what it was. The fine chain gleamed, the beaten silver plaque reflecting the lamplight back onto her stunned face, a single word engraved upon it in elegant script—Marina.

It wasn’t until a fat teardrop plopped onto her exposed right breast that Jillian realized she was crying. “Oh, please...” she said, her voice quavery, the tears now streaming from her eyes, raining heavily onto the parched acreage of her enhanced breasts, “please don’t leave me out here.” She gathered the sea-green material under her naked bosom, clutching it tightly to her, dropping the money to the floor. “I want...to be a mermaid again...please...” she sobbed, gasping great lungfuls of air, imploring the walls of her hotel room in the forlorn hope that someone might still be watching her. “P-please...” she said hoarsely, “don’t leave me out here...I’m so cold...so cold....”

Jillian rolled back upon the bed, pulled herself into a fetal position, and cried.

Jillian opened her eyes, feeling somewhat groggy: fish swam lazily in front of her, doing that interminable back and forth thing that fish do in an aquarium. Pretty, she thought, lost in their relaxing beauty: there was a striking blue and orange one, that she knew was called a majestic angelfish; a breathtaking yellow one called a yellow tang; a scary-looking red one with fan-shaped fins that was known as a devil firefish; some beautiful cream-colored ones with vertical black stripes that she had learned were called cardinalfish; some seahorses, and the regulation starfish, clinging to the glass wall of its aquatic home.

There were probably twenty different species of fish in the tank, and she was diligently attempting to learn their names. She was being watched, she knew, mostly by men. She paid their curious and lustful stares no mind; she was here for the aquarium. Jillian drifted over to her left so that she could see some of the other fish up close, stumbling a bit on the hem of her sparkly dress and almost spilling her drink.

“Miss...?” the hula-skirted waitress prompted, her slightly warning tone suggesting that perhaps Jillian had had enough to drink, and that if she wasn’t careful she might ending up having her big fake tits pop out of her dress—again.

“I’m okay...thank you, it’s just a little dark...in here,” Jillian replied blearily, ignoring the waitress’s scornful stare, and pulling her dress up to cover a partially exposed nipple. It had been her fourth bar of the evening, this one boasting the biggest aquarium of any bar on Maui (it wasn’t, and though it was quite large it certainly wasn’t big enough to support a mermaid, let alone two). She turned back and watched the fish swim about, darting here and there, flashing their fins as she wished she could.

She leaned forward, resting her forearm against the thick glass, intently watching the occupants swimming back and forth, as mindful of her as she was of the watchful eyes of the rest of the bar’s patrons. Sighing, she rested her head upon her forearm and took another sip of her drink, a gimlet, its yellow-green color more or less complementing her dress, or her surrogate tail, as she had come to think of it. So beautiful, she thought wistfully, her whole attention on the undersea world in front of her.

“Last call, everybody!” announced the bartender, ringing a reproduction ship’s bell.

She sighed and took another sip of her drink. “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she whispered, slurring her words slightly, “or some of your brothers at the Ocean Center, maybe, after I find an apartment.” She didn’t move from her spot, but rather closed her eyes and let out a long breath, imagining herself inside the tank, dreaming of a better life, unaware of the lone male cruising by, checking out the defenseless Jillian.

The beautiful, olive-skinned woman looked out over the floor of the bar, the smoky glass of the private lounge making her all but invisible to the people below, most of whom were ordering their last rounds. She bit her lower lip pensively, her arms wrapped around her, barely visible beneath her expansive bosom. The gorgeous redhead leaning against the glass of the fish tank was drunk, unhappy, and certainly no match for the predatory males who were waiting for the bar to close. It was wrong, leaving her out here like this.

She turned to face the elderly man sitting on the other side of the glass-topped table, his bright blue eyes fixed upon the screen of his laptop. She moved closer to the table, flowed around it, and stopped when she came to the side of his powered wheelchair, gently placing a beautifully-manicured hand upon his shoulder, glancing quickly at the title of the paper he was proofreading: Stem Cells—An Evolutionary Link to the Past?

He looked up, without irritation, despite the fact that she was interrupting him at his work, his expression expectant, as though he already knew what she wanted. She looked down at him and gave him a weak smile, her head slightly tilted, the brows above her violet eyes arched. Please?

The old man smiled at her indulgently, gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and then returned to his work.

She was floating. She felt light, and warm, swaying lazily, as though she were riding just below the crest of a wave. But a hand upon her back roused her from her reverie. She turned, drink in hand, ready to gut whatever dumb male had taken her from her wonderful dream.

The beautiful brunette standing before her smiled, showing perfect white teeth that shone like pearls, her violet eyes alight with joy. Her dress was a virtual twin to her sparkly green one, save for hers was dark blue with silver highlights. Around her throat was a necklace, each link a sterling silver figure eight, the two ends joined together at the hollow of her throat by a small, beaten-silver plaque, engraved upon it a single word in elegant script.

Marina burst into tears, and drifted into Pelagia’s warm embrace.