In the bowels of the Natural History Museum, the only sound was the whoosh of pressurised containers decompressing, their briny contents raised and examined in the faltering fluorescents, and their prisons again closed, with a sucking in breath, whoosh.
Whoosh, splash, whoosh.
The occasional chicken scratching of a pen.
One of the lowest levels in the building, subterranean even, the only light cast was by a blinking, fading panels along the low ceiling, and the bulbs at the base of several tall, cylindrical tanks, bathing the long room in an eerie green and amber glow. In the half-light, rows upon rows of freezers, tanks and lead tombs formed long aisles. This, the storage floor of marine specimens, was pervaded by a heavy aroma of the sea, and of dead fish.
With no natural light, conceivably, hours could have passed that she was down there, taking the museum’s massive inventory, some of the specimens dating back well over one hundred years. It felt late, well into the night. A persistent cold seeped in to the already chilly storeroom. A breath of a frost curled up a chrome sheet metal examination table.
A marine biologist with (electively) very little field experience, the young researcher flicked the latches up on container #3P68, a relatively large individual, Melancetus johnsoni, the deep sea angler fish, and with a whoosh, and lifted it up by its jaw. Even in the minimalist light, there was evidently nothing wrong with the fish; no undue decomposition, no perforations to the skin, especially the delicate membranes on the caudal fin, no damage to the dorsal fin ray. She lowered it, and a gurgle air rushed out of its gaping mouth, from the pit of its ballooning stomach. For all her love of sea creatures, even at the stench she made a face of distaste and closed the container once more, wiped her gloves and wrote notes on the subject’s condition.
In the corner of her eye, she saw a tank at the very end of the last dark row flicker on, illuminating the area around it. It was empty, unremarkable, but next to it, there was a metal cold tank. Larger than all the others, but what was most intriguing, she noted as she put her pen down and wove between aisles of tanks, were the large, gratuitous locks. Locks unlike any of the flick close latches on every other container.
Her curiosity was piqued. She knew full well that with an establishment as old as the Natural History Museum, they would have accumulated innumerable strange and exotic marine creatures, but by that same token, she’d seen many of them, and none, none, were kept under lock and key like this.
Looking around, casually, suddenly furtively, she tried to rationalise and justify her imminent actions, finally, her hands finding a heavy bone saw in the dim light, I am an intrepid researcher. I got to where I am now by forsaking all else in the pursuit of knowledge. This institution and my career are indeed both founded on these principles. I will unwaveringly explain my actions should the need arise, and I can declare without shame “I did it for science!”
She sawed at the heavy padlocks, forgetting the cold, forgetting her work, consumed by a desire to see the contents of the metal tank. She could hear a sloshing inside, as her attempts to cut the locks shook the container and the water-ammonia solution within.
With a clatter, the first lock dropped to the ground, and incensed by her small victory, she worked vehemently on the other until it too hit the icy concrete floor with a clatter. She felt a tense anticipation, a flutter somewhere in her, as she pulled up the thick lid, its seals making a wet, sucking noise as they whooshed.
Inside, the water was a dark, inky black, but smelt like none of the chemicals of the others. Simply like the deep sea; of dark, briny, ice water. She could see nothing, and placing her hands in (and shivering at the intense cold,) could feel nothing. The illuminated tank had flickered on and off all the while, but did not cast nearly enough light to show if there any indeed anything inside the locked tank. She faltered for a moment inside. Had her efforts been for nothing, the researcher wondered, her iron resolve weakening as she leant in against the tank. She gazed in, but in this light, could see nothing.
Looking around fervently, she searched and found a rusty lantern, and, as its golden glow shed light on the surface of the water and her anxious face, she searched for some shape, something, and gasped when she found it.
She suppressed a small scream as her wet gloved hand clasped her mouth, and with the lantern swinging at the length of her shaking arm, she looked into a white, pallid face below the surface of the water. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and seemingly frozen, thoughts raced dangerously fast through her mind. Oh god, they’ve killed her, she’s a woman, and they’ve killed her. Who is they? An employee of the museum, a scientist? How long has she been here? Oh god, she’s preserved, is she an object of necrophilic affections, oh god, she is dead, she has been murdered… but she trailed off, mentally, as her eyes adjusted to the light, as the haze of stupefying panic lifted. New details seemed to materialise… The woman’s face was, for want of a better expression, not normal. Her eyes, closed, were larger than she had even seen, and rounder, almost bulbous. Her eyebrows were high and arched, but she had no hair on them; the ashen skin was discoloured a blue black along the line, a colour that faded to blue down her eye sockets, and along her nose bridge that ended in a slightly upturned, flattened nose, with twin slits rather than circular nostrils. Her mouth was blue, and her chin was pointed; the woman had a high and angular face, that was ultimately feminine but entrancingly androgynous. Ribbed ridges rose on her cheek bones, and upon closer inspection, a generous cloud of blue black hair floated behind her head in the shallowly lit sea green water. She was beautiful, but alien. Far from human. In her face alone, she seemed like a seamless marriage between a human and the sea. The embodiment of the ocean. Her long, slender neck had heavy folds, beneath which raw blue flesh could be seen.
Gills? Gills. Gills.
“Gills.” She breathed aloud, barely audible. She reached into the tank, and pulled the woman closer to herself. She was heavy, limp, and the scientist hesitated for a moment, but only as long as it took to gaze into the creature’s face. She continued to bring her closer, until her cold torso was in her arms, and her hands supported her under her surprisingly large breasts. She looked again at the narrow frame of the womanfish, and pulled her legs, no, not legs, into the light, finding herself supporting a large black fish tail under her right arm. Her knees nearly buckled as she heaved the mermaid out of her tank. Lighter than expected, but flaccid and weighted nonetheless, she carried her to an examination table under a brighter fluorescent. The new light bathed the mermaid in a white light, and she was indeed very blue and green. Where her skin had been alabaster, now she was tinged the colour of sea foam, there were black fins running down the length of her forearms, her fingers, black tipped, were webbed. Her tail, with gossamer fins, was black as a blue night, and striped with tiny glittering gold scales. More than anything, as she laid her down on the table and fought the urge to run her hands along the body, the researcher noticed the distinct smell. Heady. Intoxicating. Salty, that of the sea, and of something else. The pungent scent of a woman. An almost sickly sweet animal smell.
She could not stop staring. Just could not stop staring. Could not. She felt surreal, lighter. Dizzy, even. She drank in the sight of the merwoman, and noticed, just barely, the fluttering in the pit of her stomach, of an alien anticipation, of a carnal excitement. She forgot to chastise herself, and reached into her pockets and pulled a small voice recorder. She could, she should, document this. In a moment of clarity she wondered if this was really happening, but with a gloved hand, she ran a languid finger along the flat, clammy stomach of the mermaid, and knew that she couldn’t conjure such a creature in her mind.
She, taking a deep breath and clearing her throat, clicked on the recorder.
“Specimen appears to have traits very concurrent with Homo sapiens of Mammalia, and of many species within both Osteichthyes and Chondrichthyes. Note the presence of uncannily Simian-esque features on the upper half. Creature has a near human torso and head, those of a female,” she paused, noting everything that was very female in front of her, most of all, the pair of round, spherical and endearingly perky breasts, topped with erect bluish mauve nipples. She took a double take. Erect? That couldn’t be. She wracked her brain to try remember how they had been in the tank, and tried to convince herself that because it wasn’t typical erectile tissue, yes, it could have been like this the whole time, especially due to the conditions, and yes, if anything, dystrophy could have kept the nipples hard in well past death and preservation. Of course, she didn’t even know how the creature’s individual physiology could affect nipple tissue, most certainly.
She sat back against a container and took a moment, crossing her legs with a pang and a slight sensation she was unable to place, before she continued.
“The tail seems fishlike in nature, with a split caudal fin, ventral fins, anal fins and what seems to be a long and low dorsal fin along the human spine down the lower back. She has evidently wide human like hips, and the swell beneath the tail belies a piscine bone structure. The waist and top of the tail seem almost human, and as if evolution has just fused her legs together in place for a tail. She also has what seem to be almost pectoral fins along her human forearms…”
She went to lift her subject’s arm, and realised with horror the soft flesh had stuck to the icy table. Panic skittered up her chest, like insects, like lightning. Without thinking, suddenly feeling a thick worry that went beyond the professional repercussions, but worry for the creature of the table’s well being, she breathed heavily on the sticking flesh, exhaling a warm fog. Running her gloved hand through her dishevelled blonde hair, she found a sink, containers down the row, and filled a bucket with lukewarm water. As she poured the water down the sides of her mermaid, her charge, something she felt inexplicably possessive over, she realised her breathing was laboured, and her mind fraught with pleas, please let her be alright.
The water warmed both the table and her skin, and the mermaid slid easily across the slippery examination table. She put her head down on the tail, breathing a sigh of overwhelming relief.
With a renewed timidity, she tentatively ran her hand along the length of the tail, that was smooth, and sleek. She looked ahead oh her, and pulled out her recorder again, having come face to sex organ with what appeared to be a cross-species concoction of genitalia. With raised, thick lips sitting atop the equivalent of the pubis, it was almost like a shark’s cloaca, but for a small discrepancy. At the top of her slit, there was a fold in the flesh, and in its hood, sat what could have been a large, black pearl.
Unsure of how to proceed, but curiosity winning out, she, with shortened breath, took off her rubber gloves with a snap, and extended a finger and placed it on the obvious clitoris of the mermaid. It was sticky, like a pearl freshly removed from an oyster, and smelt of enthralling womanflesh. She rubbed it softly with her thumb, and it felt hard, like her erect nipples, but lost in the moment, the scientist disregarded it. Her forefinger pulling back the hood and remaining on its clit, she ran her thumb down the length of its slit, and to her surprise, for which she emitted a small, illicit gasping moan, her thumb slid in, to find the mermaid wet, and warm. Warm? She shook off her thoughts, engrossed in discovery. She parted the thick lips. Beneath were a second pair of labia, a thinner membrane, and inside, she was suddenly confused. Rather than an entrance, inside her lips, there was a large bulb of flesh. Flesh that was almost ivory pink, and glossy with whatever clear viscous slick coated her pearl. Captivated, and against her better judgement, she climbed up onto the table, and straddled the lower end of the tail, and bent over to further inspect the marvels unfolding before her. With her thumb, curiously, she stroked the flesh, and her eyes widened in astonishment as it swelled under her fingers, and grew, until it pushed out from between both sets of lips, and developed steadily, shaking, as it rose in an arc into a phallus. Her trembling hands still around the length of it, her mouth hung open in surprise. Her thoughts lost all sense, and all she felt was a deep ripple of wanting in her stomach. The flesh was wet, with a defined crowning head on the mermaid’s… well, penis? Pseudo-clitoris? It appeared almost human, were it not a pale blue, turgid; translucent white skin stretched over the swollen, erect and veined flesh, and blooming into a pale pink at the head.
She took a deep breath. The skin was so soft. Velvety, even.
Between her legs, the large diaphanous caudal fin tensed as she ran her fingers slowly down the shaft. With this she was pulled, rushing, whooshing, back to the present, and her face down turned, fear rose in her throat and she squeezed her eyes closed. Fuck. Slowly, ever so slowly, she looked up at the mermaid’s face, who sat up resting on her forearms, staring intently, suggestively, at the young scientist. She had large wholly black eyes, bottomless, that caught all the lights in the room. A thin second eyelid membrane closed on them slowly, tackily, and the two women gazed at one another, the mermaid’s quivering cock between them.
“I… I…” she stammered, and with a push, the mermaid sat up and raised a cold hand to her explorer’s lips, and shushed her softly. There was a hunger in her eyes, and she smiled. Well, whether it was a smile or not, she couldn’t tell. It was the shape a human mouth made, but for all she knew, it was the mimicry of a bird, a gestured observed, learnt and copied.
Taking the human hands into her own, the mermaid placed one of the scientist’s on her left breast, and the other on the pulsating organ between them. For the second before she leaned in for a kiss, she caught sight of the creature’s almost transparent teeth, fangs; small, longer, dagger-like, serrated. But their lips met in a wet exchange and the mermaid held her head and searched her with an untamed yearning, all worries were assailed. She surrendered, leaning against her, gyrating her hips just below the penis she stroked, and thumbed the hard nipples with her other hand. With blind hands, not understanding, the mermaid tugged helplessly at her lover’s clothes, and, seeking only to please her, the scientist found herself beyond compelled to strip herself off, despite the cold, especially that of the icy table they lay upon. She peeled off her lab coat, her shirt, and feeling a hot milk feeling rise in her stomach, from the pit of herself, her very core that felt absolutely soaking, she ripped off her bra with abandon, and the mermaid watched her eagerly, her tail drumming madly, restless against the cold steel. Yes, yes. Wearing a skirt and thigh high stockings, she unzipped the side and couldn’t pull it off fast enough, nor could she pull of her saturated panties off leg by leg with grace, and momentarily was embarrassed to have seemed foolish before the creature between her thighs.
Naked but for her stockings, a welcome reprieve from the absolute cold of the table, she finally slipped off her shoes and hovered her sex above the flesh just ahead of the mermaid’s waiting, stiffened cock. She was drumming frantically against the table, a woman lost in the moment, squeezing her own breasts with her hands, intensely impatient, longing, and, making her first noise, she whined lowly. Lowering herself onto the flesh of her lower stomach, the scientist took a blue breast her hands, and slowly licked the nipple, dragging her warm tongue along the tip, tracing the areola. She sucked, hard. Her companion, helpless, tried to find an outlet for her hands, and grasped at the air, the edge of the table, her naked back. She moaned into the nipple, and still squeezing the other nipple with her hand, moved her mouth lower, along her smooth stomach, tasting sea salt, and something sweeter. Nibbling, nipping, licking, the tumescent penis rubbed between her breasts, and she went lower, and with a licked thumb, rubbed her clit, and took the phallus into her mouth and slowly bobbed her head, sucking hungrily. The mermaid rain her webbed hands through her blonde hair, pushing her head down, lower, lower, until she yanked her up and they both gasped. Wrapping her arms around her, and with a small surprised noise, the merwoman flipped the arrangement with an unexpected strength. She was on top, in control. Her tail and cock rested between her now captive’s legs, her head resting on the outside of her pussy, on the edge of oblivion, teasing her. Moaning in anticipation, the scientist could feel nothing but a desire to be filled, to be fucked, as she felt a boiling heat inside, a slow burning, bubbling, hunger.
With a slow push, and an expression of ecstasy, the mermaid finally pushed herself inside, and drummed her tail loudly, hard, as she slid in and out , her thickness and length swallowed whole by her snug cunt, and the two moaned loudly into each other, slipping back and forth on the wet table, her legs wrapped tightly around her lower back, but not as tightly has her muscles contracted around her cock as she fucked her, relentlessly, harder. Thrusting in and out, faster, she pushed her hips harder into the mermaid, taking her entirely, gasping as she reached a spot inside herself again, and again, their clitorises rubbing together like sticks to match the flame that burned in the centre of both of them, and the hot cold contrasts in their sex. Every hard thrust brought her closer, and she feverishly sucked and bit at blue nipples, lost in the moment. Her lover gripped the table above her head tightly, her face contorted to one of bliss as she made clicking, gleeful and guttural chirping noises, not unlike a dolphin. Inside, low in herself, she felt her orgasm building, and muscles contracted, and her lover went faster, faster, and oh god, faster, until in their speed, the ardent thrusting, her cunt clenched hard, and with a white hot, golden internal explosion, and they both came, chirruping and screaming. The mermaid came pearlescent strings of inky black semen, that shot up into the centre of the scientist, that effused from her dripping pussy, and onto the table. They held on to one another for dear life, still convulsing and moaning, breathing heavily. In the corner of her eye as the scientist gasping toward the ceiling, her mermaid, her mermaid, draped over her, she saw her gills opening and closing wildly, and wondered idly how she was breathing currently. Webbed hands dug into her shoulders, and a mouth was on her neck, kissing, sucking wetly, and she was breathing hard into the hollow of her collarbone. Gingerly, the scientist nibbled along her lover’s jaw, and ran her fingers through her silky black hair. The intense throbbing in her pussy ebbed away to a low contentedness, and with a long sigh, she nuzzled the creature in her eyes, whispering sweet nothings.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the mermaid pulled herself up, and apart from the sticky mess between their legs. She swung her tail over the edge of the table, looked back at a stunned blonde scientist, and warbled plaintively. The language barrier seemed too great. Confounded, all she could do was shake her head at the increasingly distressed sea creature. With webbed fingers, she attempted to scoop up water and whatever else was on the table and rub it on her drying skin. Sickening realisation crawled up her throat, and she nodded emphatically, sinking worry in her stomach. Naked, but for stockings, she slid off the table, and placed one arm under her tail, and another around her back, and heaved the mermaid off the table, and her legs, weak from rippling pleasure, nearly toppled the two of them, but she pressed on, taking careful, weighted steps back towards the locked tank. With a great lift, she heavily dropped the squirming woman as softly as she could into the deep container, and watched her, with both the detached avid fascination of a scientist and the tenderness of a lover, as she swam back and forth to the extent she could, drinking deeply of the water, running it over her gills. Finally, she looked back at the scientist, gazing at her amorously, but with a barely hidden gratitude. She gestured up to the lid, and disappeared into the depths of a tank that seemed to go on forever, and with a sigh, she closed the container on the mermaid, flicked the latches shut, and walked down the aisles aimlessly.
Pulling on her lab coat and shoes, she sat nearly naked, freezing cold, and took a deep breath.
Finally;
“I did it for science!”
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