The Dragons' Mermaid

Chapter 5

I miss him like crazy, Andrea pondered, turning over and over in her lonely bed. Oh Rick, the things we could do right now.

Her fingers wandered down over her body. She cast the sheets aside and laid naked in the pale light as the moon rose over the sea. Her hands followed her slender sides and traced the lines of her ribcage. Lifting her palms off her skin as she neared her chest, Andrea let only her fingertips graze her n*****s. The faint touch made a tingling echo, spreading from her chest all through her body until it reached the top of her head and made her hair stand on end.

"Hhhhahhh —," she inhaled. Left side first, her areolae contracted. Andrea felt the flesh under the slight bumps as it turned hard and made the skin wrinkle. The sensation spread out, and it felt like weight. It also felt like heat, a wandering wave of heat with a shiver and goosebumps in its wake.

Her index fingers tapped on her n*****s again, and once again, the rousing sensation spread like ripples in a pond.

Tap.

Tap.

Andrea's rhythm accelerated. The heat of each wave front no longer had time to fade. It collected on her skin. Thin droplets of sweat appeared. Her areolae were all crinkled up now.

Tap tap.

"Mmmnnnhh —"

Taptaptap.

"Mhhhh. Mhhhhh."

She bit her lower lip.

Yes, yes! More! Need ... stronger!

She grabbed her flat chests and squeezed her fingers into the thin layer of womanliness over her ribcage. Angling her hands, she pinched her itching, hard n*****s between thumbs and forefinger.

"Guuuhhh!" groaned Andrea. She twisted her hips, she rubbed her one leg against the other, holding them closed tightly, trapping her aroused crotch between them. The faint rubbing noises of dry skin on dry skin turned into moist smacking. Wetness coated her thighs, and the heat in her crotch grew stronger.

Not just her n*****s itched and throbbed from the inside now; the strange and delicious sensations spread out over her body. Her eyes bugged as she recognized the building arousal.

Last night, were her scattered thoughts. In me. Oh Rick, Rick, so deep, in me, to the hilt. You brought me those feelings. So good. Just ... some more ... then ... then ...

She almost felt Rick's hands again, his arms around her narrow waist, and he inside her, embedded so deep, oh so very, deliciously deep, in her quivering cave, for those endless moments. Her left hand moved down and cupped her crotch. The touch of her palm on her swollen bud drove her wild. Andrea pushed down harder, rubbing the ball of her thumb all over her vulva. The frantic sliding of skin on skin coated her matted blond hair with the froth of ecstasy.

More! she moaned inwardly. So close ... can't stop ... bliss ... coming —

Her legs trembled in spasms, her whole body arched upwards. Thin jets of liquid sprayed from her crotch and splattered against the foot board of the bed. Her chest heaved, her insides contracted, time and again, squeezing out more of the silver arcs.

Andrea sagged down. Her hands cupped her reddened, wide open labia. Her glazed fingers spread the cooling liquid across her gaping hole, soothing the burning sensations of her raw-rubbed skin. Dragging a trail of moisture along, she let her left hand wander higher until it reached the onset of her breasts. Her skin glowed with inner heat. She sighed delightedly.

A sound like a quiet inhale, somewhere in the distance.

What the —

She jerked and opened her eyes. Blueish moonlight revealed her glistening body, but almost nothing of the bedroom. Andrea strained her ears to no avail. The only thing she could make out was the wind rustling dry leaves in the bushes.

Stop that, she chided herself. Who'd come out here that late at night anyway?

As the rustle subsided, the weird noise came back. Perched at the edge of perception was some strange ringing sound. And the odd feeling of her head caught in a vise, of a numb pressure on her ears.

Is that what the other girls meant when they whispered they heard the bells ringing after a good romp? Andrea frowned, and tensing her forehead brought the onset of a headache. Ugg. That's not worth bragging about, it's rubbish.

She swung her legs out of the bed and struggled upright, clutching her temples. The ringing in her ears grew stronger. Andrea stumbled to the door. She clung to the doorpost and inhaled the cool night air.

It's better with Rick around. It was good, though ... didn't know my fingers could do me like that, but I really need him to hold me in the afterglow. Feeling ... so weak ...

She moistened her lips.

No wonder. I'm parched. A little sip might be a good idea.

Andrea turned around and took the earthen jug from the shelf. The gulp ended up a bit bigger than she had planned. Coughing, she corked the liquor and stowed it away. Warmth spread through her innards. She shuddered in delight.

Mmmh. Much better. Much — gaah!

Her eyes grew big, and her hands clutched her crotch. Muscles deep in her womb contracted and pulsated. She panted, slack-jawed with her tongue hanging halfway out.

Can't be — can't — c—

Rick was inside her again, she milked him again, drawing every last drop from that huge rod again.

"Mnnnhhhh!"

Sagging against the wall, her face contorted to a delirious grin, she came again, jerking and twisting. Andrea's hands overflowed with another helping of her ample juices. Wisps of fog rose from the warm puddle on the floor between her legs.

Where did that just come from —?

She struggled upright once more. The itching all through her body receded, but it did not go away completely. In fact, it rapidly grew stronger again. The calm before the storm upon her was going away fast.

No, no, please, I can't take any more of this, so weak, why —

Oh the gods — here it comes agaiahhh—

Andrea's breath raced. Her knees trembled and lost their strength. She dropped, swaying, as the pressure inside her rose higher. This wasn't like the first times, it was like diving down, deeper and deeper, feeling the crushing weight of water piling up above her — only it was all wrong, it was upside-down, inside-out. The weight was in her and it wanted out, it needed out. The pliable but unyielding weight of the endless ocean amassed in her and surged in waves against her skin, filling her up.

What is that? What's happening to me? I'm — I'm growing! I'm swelling!

Her fingers cupped her breasts. Tautening, the former palmfuls spread her grip, stretched out and rose. Tossing and turning on the cold kitchen floor, Andrea squeezed and kneaded, but the new flesh didn't disappear, it just kept on piling up on her chest, her rear, her legs. She tried to get up, but her limbs disobeyed. Vertigo had her in its grip, and the spinning in her head grew faster and faster. She desperately reached for the table's legs. Swirling darkness filled her sight.

Birdsong rang through the brisk morning air. Andrea came to only slowly. She squinted and recognized the wooden plain before her eyes as the hut's floor. Her tongue circled her dry lips. She felt truly parched now.

Need the well. Need a whole bucket. Gods, what happened last night? These delights, that can't be normal. All this touching was just so —

Wonderful. Yes, wonderful. That's what it was. It felt so very, very good.

Andrea bit on her lower lip, struggled to her elbows and on into a push-up. Her arms trembled with the effort.

So weak. Why am I so weak? This should be child's play!

Her strength wasn't enough. Her elbows bent outwards, and she slammed face down onto the hard floor.

Almost.

Andrea's nose just barely touched the wood, then her head dangled down inches from the ground. Her n*****s ached as they were pushed back into the firm-soft masses that had caught her fall. She felt the two weighty pillows under her, the slightly painful stretching as her voluminous breasts flattened against her ribcage and bulged out to the left and right.

"AAAAAAaaaaahh!" echoed her scream over the cliffs.

"No, no! That can't be! That's not happening!"

Andrea stammered and panted, pulling herself upright on the edge of the table. Heavy and round dangled the two elongated bulbs from her chest. She sagged down on the chair. Her hands cupped the warm, soft underboobs and raised the enormous expanse of her cleavage. The skin at the onset showed faint stretch marks. As her fingers dug probingly into the weird new flesh, it firmed under her touch and seemed to shrink back down a bit after the rough spreading and flattening from moments ago.

She pinched her eyes shut and kneaded and squeezed the melon-sized lumps until all of her chest was numb with burning pain.

Calm down. Calm down. That's not happening. It's just not happening. That's just another weird dream.

Andrea opened her eyes again.

See? There are no bloated pumpkins hanging from your chest —

She was right. Pumpkin was a gross exaggeration.

Yet there were still two nice, abundant handfuls more than she had started out with. Milky white skin covered a most pliable and graspable stuffing of girl meat. Andrea's breath raced.

Not happening! Not happening!

She staggered to her feet and stumbled outside. Several splashes of cold water from the bucket by the well calmed her down. The droplets ran along her new bust line. Andrea prodded her assets. They yielded to her fingertips, but were frighteningly real nonetheless.

What am I to do now? Is that how it starts? Is that how women grow old? By blowing up in their sleep? Should I not have touched myself last night?

An unusual strain announced itself in her lower back already.

Oh no! Is this some kind of punishment? I don't want to lug those around all day!

Her hands weighed the milk dumplings.

Mmmh. Doesn't feel all that bad, though.

Andrea sat down on the coarse bench. Moments later, she launched like stung by a wasp.

"Oh the gods, no! No! What is this?!"

She twisted and turned, running her hands down her waistline. Right at her hips, her fingers needed to take a detour outwards, over the meaty globes bulging from her rear.

"No! Oh please, no!"

As her hands examined the firm hemispheres, her incredulous gasps and desperate shrieks culminated into a single heartrending cry:

"I'm fat!"

Rick tied down his boat and looked around.

That's the first time in weeks she isn't waiting for me.

He frowned as he looked up to the tiny hut perched on the cliff. The chimney didn't smoke either, and nobody was outside in the garden.

His stomach turned into an icy knot, and his call echoed from the rocky slopes as he darted up along the winding path.

"Andrea—?!"

The bucket laid overturned near the well. The hut's door was left ajar. He hesitated, then he grabbed it and pushed it open. A trembling woman-shaped lump cowered in the far corner and hid its face from the bright door frame.

Rick gulped and whispered, "Darling—?"

"Don't look at me," sobbed Andrea, huddling deeper into the dark corner.

Rick hurried over and held her in his arms, rocking her gently.

"Darling, what's wrong? What happened while I was away?"

She wrapped her arms around him, and once again, he was surprised at the strength of her embrace. Andrea always looked so lithe and fragile, even while inside she was just as much a fisherman's wife as the sturdier women from the village. Rick gasped for air in her arms' vise.

"Nngh! Come on, tell me. What's wrong with you?" he groaned.

"I've grown fat and ugly!" she wailed. "And I don't want to be!"

"Andrea, what are you talking about? You're as beautiful as ever! There is nothing wrong with you at all!"