My Little Ex-Mermaid

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All sexually active characters in this story are above the age of eighteen. All sexual relations depicted in this story are enthusiastically consensual.

Principal characters:

Medusa – a cecaelia (half-woman half-octopus)

Calypso – a mermaid, later a human

Oceanus – a merman, king of Caribbea, father of Calypso

Scylla – another cecaelia, friend of Medusa

This is an independent work of fiction. Any similarity between these characters and any other persons living or dead, or characters in any other fictional work, is purely coincidental.



Innocence is such a dull-sounding thing, like stale kelp. But Calypso’s innocence was the very opposite of dull or stale. There was a sweet, fresh *aliveness* to her character that quite charmed me, even from afar. She was so fully, exquisitely herself, if you know what I mean, with a touch of the headstrong about her. I admired that. Nothing like those priggish sisters of hers, who always did exactly as their father told them, performing like a troupe of trained manatees in those insipid musical debacles he put on. Oceanus thought those spectacles impressed the sea creatures of Caribbea, and helped legitimize his regime. But I kept my ear to the sea-floor: nobody was impressed, they rolled their eyes and laughed about them, about him, behind his back. I’ll never know how a narcissistic bully like Oceanus could have fathered a sweet, vibrant creature like Calypso. In that family, she is definitely the odd girl out. Well, I know how that feels. We cecaeliae are odd girls out by definition.

So I was not entirely surprised when Calypso showed up one day at the entrance to my cave, asking for a magical spell. Oh, that story about precious Prince Alaric I took with a drop of saltwater. I could see what she really wanted: escape from her father. Freedom to live her own life. I was happy to help her. The fact that I’d be sticking it to Oceanus was a bonus, I admit. I certainly did *not* exact a price from her. Taking away her voice or whatever. That was a vicious piece of slander put about by Oceanus’s little flunky, that odious crab Stephanus.


Prince Cardboard (snort!), I was such a guppy, it embarrasses me now to recall it. That infatuation with the prince was a daydream built on nothing, on a meeting that lasted no longer than a flip of a whale’s tail, with no understanding of what real love is. But it was a daydream fuelled by desperation, to get out from under my father’s thumb.

What I wasn’t ready to acknowledge to myself was my attraction to Medusa. I was curious, fascinated even, and my curiosity drew me to her. In my family, it was taboo even to speak of her, let alone visit her. And for a young mermaid of my temperament, the taboo has a certain irresistible allure. Plus there was the female attraction. Aside from my goody-two-fins sisters, there have been few females, of any species, in my life. I don’t remember my mother. She died when I was very little. Medusa seemed, well, I won’t say exactly ‘motherly’, not in any conventional sense of the word, but she was somehow comforting, reassuring, and exciting to be around, in a – yes – maternal way: she was an older, confident, experienced female I could confide in, open up to. I longed for that, hungered for it in fact. And I, um, admired her shape. We mermaids are angular, bony creatures. We have breasts, but nothing like Medusa’s, which are bountiful even for a cecaelia. I wasn’t yet ready to admit this, but the thought of resting my head on those huge, soft pillows, my body wrapped securely in her arms and tentacles – that daydream stirred me far more deeply than Prince Cardboard. I liked the way she moved her big, fleshy hips and powerful tentacles as she swam. I liked her smooth dusky skin, the little beauty mark by her mouth, her bold shock of white hair, the gruff confidence of her voice. Even before her spell awoke me to sexual hunger.


I didn’t need a magical spell to awaken me to Calypso’s physical beauty. Cecaeliae are all female – technically we’re hermaphrodites, and we reproduce sexually. Which is to say that we mate with each other, or with females of related species. And Calypso really is scrumptious. As I said, I was attracted by her innocent vivacity as well. So, yes, I had a bit of a crush on her. Yes, I fantasized about her, who wouldn’t? But I assumed my desire was unrequited. Up to that point, I’d thought of myself as unattractive – ungainly, to be honest. We cecaeliae are agile: our tentacles are good for sudden lunges and feints, useful in catching prey and avoiding predators. But we’re not sleek and streamlined like mermaids. We’re not built for speed or long-distance swimming. And I’m rather, um, bulky, even for a cecaelia. Besides, I knew that mermaids don’t have much of a sex drive. They lay an egg or two in a bed of seaweed, and then mermen swim by and fertilize them. That’s it. No cuddling afterwards.


Before the spell changed me, the way cecaeliae procreate seemed pointless to me. And undignified. Yes, Gaziantep Gecelik Escort I understood the need to reproduce, I even understood the desire for companionship. But the passionate way cecaeliae go about it, ‘fucking’ – all tentacles penetrating orifices, sucking and licking and touching and squeezing, and that intense emotional bond that follows. It seemed to me then like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Which gives you an idea how tepid and shallow my feelings about Prince Alaric were.


Cecaeliae have a natural aptitude for magic. Mostly we use it for stunning prey and warding off predators. But you can put magic behind any intention, if your imagination is vivid enough to see it through. Calypso wanted a human form, so I went with that. (Well, not completely human: she had to be able to keep breathing underwater, like a mermaid, or she’d drown before she even reached the surface.)

Calypso’s fresh innocence was certainly appealing, but I couldn’t help relishing the prospect of corrupting her a little. Not in a bad way, just introducing a bit more … complexity, just adding some deeper colours to her palette. Because along with those shapely human legs she wanted, I’d be giving her a sweet human cunt, and the powerful sex drive that comes with it. Something fiery to match that flame-red hair of hers.

The cauldron, the potions, the incantations – those are just props, aide-memoires. The real magical work is mental and emotional. And this transformational spell for Calypso was a tall order. I had to put every fibre of my being into the desire for her to have those legs, that cunt. My knowledge of human female sexuality was admittedly superficial – I had fucked a few human woman over the years, and they seemed similar enough to cecaeliae in that regard. So it seemed safe to extrapolate from that. But honestly, there was nothing in that spell that predisposed her toward females. I wouldn’t have done that to her, sabotaging her chances with Prince Alaric. Not deliberately anyway. As far as I can tell, that same-sex orientation, and her submissiveness, comes one hundred percent from her.

The thing about magic is that it always has an effect on the one working it, at least as strong as the effect on the object of the spell. It’s just not predictable how that effect will manifest itself. I put everything I had into that spell. I went into it with a mild crush on Calypso. But in the working of it, that grew into an absolute aching need for her: sexual, emotional, on every level. Just as she shot up to the surface with her new human legs. Off to the world above to find her prince. Away from me forever.

I felt like my soul had been ripped away. Despair overwhelmed me. I went a bit insane.


The world above turned out to be not nearly as pleasant as I had thought. Well, the truth is: I hadn’t thought. At all. About a thousand unappealing and intolerable things involved in living up there. Clothing. Money. Dryness. I won’t even talk about the awful burnt food humans eat.

My handsome prince turned out to be rather underwhelming as well. Oh, he fell for me easily enough. My very first day on dry land, in fact. He falls for pretty women regularly, it seems. He’s famous for it. I probably could have manipulated him into a marriage. But me, with my new human sex drive, and the anatomy to make it all happen … I looked at him and felt nothing beyond a mild awareness of his regular facial features. The human women excited me far more to look at, especially the plump middle-aged ones.

But nothing excited me like the memory of Medusa. That night, after an awkward encounter with Prince Cardboard in a rowboat, I went to my solitary bed in the palace; and in the dark, I thought of Medusa. Why hadn’t I stayed with her? The question cut through me like a knife. Sharp regret. And even sharper arousal. My fingers found their unfamiliar way between my new thighs. My cunt was wet for her. And the more I thought of her, the wetter I became. I brought myself to climax with my fingers – I had never done this before, but my body somehow knew what it needed. And as I came over and over again, I longed for her tentacles to touch me there. I longed for her kisses. I longed for her motherly breasts in my mouth. And I longed for that rarely-glimpsed nether opening, at the junction of her tentacles, where I somehow knew I could give her pleasure.

An hour before dawn, I crept out of the palace and made my way down to the harbour. On the dock, I pulled off my human clothes and shoes, and dove back into the cool embrace of the sea. It was tiring to swim with human legs instead of my tail, but my need to be reunited with Medusa drove me onward. By midday, I had reached her cave.

The interior was scarcely recognizable. All her belongings had been smashed to pieces. I feared she’d been attacked by my father’s hench-mermen; perhaps they’d killed her. But I found her at last in a deep crevice at the very rear of the cave, curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly. Her black sheath dress was in shreds at her feet. It took some effort to persuade her that I was real, that she wasn’t just imagining me. After some time of holding her hand, stroking her face, murmuring reassurances to her, her eyes began to clear. I drew her out of that narrow crevice, so I had room to hold her properly. I now saw the terrible depth and urgency of her need. Her life force was at a low ebb, but I was determined to bring her back. Now she needed me, in every way I could give myself to her. And my new human sexuality showed me how.

‘Yes love’, I moaned in her ear, ‘take me. Please take me now!’

With something between a sob and a roar, she lunged at me, grasping my wrists in her hands, coiling two tentacles round my knees, yanking my willing legs apart. She kissed me hungrily, her tongue invading my mouth, her naked heavy breasts and soft belly pressing urgently against me. A tentacle plunged deep into my vagina, while the tip of it forked off into a separate little tendril, vibrating over my aching clitoris. Another tentacle slipped between my buttocks, secreting a slippery fluid, then burrowing deep into my anus. Two more tentacles played over my breasts, the suckers latching onto my erect nipples.

‘Oh, *fish*, yesss!’ I swore.

I began to come at once, but Medusa didn’t relent, pumping her tentacles vigorously in and out of my holes, going deeper with each thrust, twisting, drilling into me, flexing inside me, the fluttering suckers caressing the walls of my vagina and my rectum. The tentacles grew thicker, hotter, and harder as they filled me. Her other tentacles and arms supported me and held me immobile.

I don’t know if it was one climax that went on and on, or a long series of climaxes back-to-back. But I gave myself to her. Completely. Again, my body somehow knew what to do. I let her take from me whatever she needed. Whatever life force I had to give. Her tentacles swelled up even thicker inside me, to the point that I wondered if she might rip me open; but if that was what she needed from me, then so be it, I wouldn’t hold back. But just at that point, Medusa shuddered violently, moaning into my mouth, and all eight of her tentacles convulsed, spurting thick blueish-white fluid, surrounding my body in a milky cloud, and flooding both my nether holes. I blacked out from the pleasure.


We both did, I suppose. I awoke some time later, on the floor of my cave, my arms and tentacles still wrapped around Calypso. My breast was in her mouth, and she was sucking away gently on me.

‘Why did you come back?’ I asked, stroking her hair.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she smiled gently. ‘I love you, Medusa.’ She switched over to my other breast. My three hearts sang.

‘You’ll stay with me? You won’t go back up there?’

‘Fuck the world above. Everything I want is right here in my arms. I hope you made me pregnant just now.’

‘I probably did,’ I grinned, blushing. ‘I came really hard, and I didn’t think to use any magical protection.’

‘Good. I want to bear you lots of beautiful little cecaeliae. Now tell me – what exactly happened to you while I was gone?’

‘I suppose I spent all my energy on your spell. In the process, I fell in love with you, and then you went away, and I had nothing left, no reserves, to hold myself together. I … I lost it. I guess I went into a kind of shock. I must have let loose a magical blast-wave.’

‘When I saw the state of your cave, I was terrified you were dead, that my father had killed you. And then I saw the state of you … Darling, you’re really all right now?’

‘Mmm. Very all right, now that you’ve come back. I’m sorry I frightened you.’

‘Ssh. I’m the one who’s sorry. Medusa my love, I … I can be a stupid, selfish brat sometimes. Swimming away from you was absolutely the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And in spite of that meltdown I just put you through, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Far stronger than my father. I need a strong, mature female in my life, someone who loves me enough to be my anchor, to take charge of me when I get stuck in guppyish daydreams, to grab me with her tentacles and fuck me raw till I remember what’s really important. Will you do that for me?’

‘Sweety’, I chuckled, ‘you’re pretty much describing the ideal relationship for a cecaelia. We tend to be on the dominant side. So the answer is definitely yes. The sex really wasn’t too rough? I know I got a bit out of control, I can make love tenderly too.’

‘I loved you being out of control. I think I’ll love you being tender too. I … I got a bit out of control myself, in a submissive way.’

This sex talk was making me horny for her again. But I was extraordinarily hungry, and so was she. I hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, Calypso had swum a great distance. Then we’d depleted our bodies further with extreme sex. So now we went out and foraged for shellfish and seaweed outside the mouth of my cave, till my net bags were full. Then we returned to my cave and happily gorged ourselves.

Calypso, petite thing that she is, didn’t require much to fill her up. So as I finished the rest of our catch, she set about clearing away the rubble inside the cave, dumping it in a deep trench a short distance from the entrance. She returned carrying large armfuls of seaweed, to make a fresh bed.

Our bed, our cave, our new life together. A feeling of deep happiness grew in me as I watched her bustle around. Calypso as a young mermaid had been a stunner. But the new Calypso – with her beautiful legs and her red-haired cunt and that perfect ass, and no silly scallop shells hiding her adorable breasts – well, she was a joy to behold.

But, I sighed to myself, now that she lived in the sea again, those human legs weren’t very useful for swimming. It occurred to me that, once my power fully returned, I could make her a magical removable tail, so she could swim like a mermaid out in the sea, but then take it off in our cave. And spread her luscious legs. For me. Mmm.


Watching Medusa eat started to get me hot. The intense way she slurped down her clams and oysters and chewed her seaweed was pure sex. Not to mention the fact that she was still naked, wearing nothing but her nautilus shell necklace. No bodice to hold back her huge floating boobies, nor her ample belly. Nothing to hide the deep cleft of her buttocks, where her enormous ass tapered off into a set of thick, supple tentacles.

I may have been new to sex, and I may be submissive, but I’m not shy.

‘Darling, can I ask you for something?’

‘Of course, sweety.’

‘Can we try out our new bed now? And, um, could you lie back and, um, spread your tentacles for me? I want to see all of you.’

‘Oh,’ she tensed up, blushing deeply. ‘Oh. Um, I’m not very … delicate-looking, down there. I’m a bit self-conscious about it, to be honest. It might not be much of a turn-on.’ It seemed my big dominant cecaelia had a weak spot in her confidence. Well, I could help with that.

‘Darling, it’s part of you, of course I’ll love it. I love every bit of you. Please?’

‘Well, if you insist … Just, don’t laugh at it, OK?’ She swam over to me on the bed . ‘Oh, this is very comfortable. Is this all just seaweed?’

‘Yup. I did it in layers: big springy pieces on the bottom, soft spongy pieces in the middle, and smooth broad pieces on top. Come on love, of course I won’t laugh … show me. Please?’

She leaned back on her hands, hesitantly spreading her tentacles back. The undersides were paler, each adorned with a double row of suckers, like hundreds of sweet little mouths. I gave a little squee of approval, and Medusa, encouraged, opened up fully. Her tentacles joined her body in a sort of webbed skirt. And at the pale centre of that skirt lay her luscious opening. I recognized it as a cunt, though it’s quite different from mine. Whereas mine is a prim, neat little slit, lightly fringed with red hair, Medusa’s is a gaping, blueish-purple, fleshy-lipped maw, ringed about with thick white pubic hair, like some kind of exotic anemone. Towards the rear, the hair thins out to reveal the muscular pucker of her anus, where the webbed skirt separates into her two fleshy buttocks. And in place of my little bud, Medusa has a thick, glistening protuberance – some kind of cross between an octopus’ beak and a very large human clitoris. She was right: it was not at all delicate-looking; but it was breath-taking, powerful, and beautiful, and I fell in love with it all on the spot.

‘Oh, darling, c-can I kiss it? Please?’

‘Really? You want to … ‘

Taking that for a ‘yes’, I began kissing the inner reaches of her tentacles, letting my tongue play lightly over her suckers. She whimpered with pleasure, and I began nuzzling my face in her silky, thick pubic hair. I moved on to sucking on her inner lips, burying my tongue in her vagina. I loved her taste, more delicious than the most succulent oyster, and I lapped and sucked at her hungrily. And, thinking turnabout’s fair play, I slipped a finger into her tight anus. Meanwhile, with my other hand, I grasped her slick clitoris and began pumping it. It felt more rubbery than I expected, and to my surprise it began to engorge, growing even longer, thicker, harder and hotter in my hand.

‘Octopussss!’ she swore. ‘Oh squid, yesss!’

Her tentacle tips were now wrapped around my arms and head, holding me firmly in place, as she thrust herself against my face and fingers, grunting savagely. And then suddenly, her powerful tentacles flipped me over onto my back, pulling my thighs apart. She mounted me, wrapping her tentacle skirt round my hips, covering my groin, sliding that huge, hot clit deep into my vagina, and pounding away inside me with all her might. A tentacle tip thrummed over my engorged clit, while another of her tentacles buried itself in my anus. Her breasts were bobbing in my face, and I captured one in my mouth and sucked hard, just as I began to come. And kept coming. Her clit pounded my cervix in a way that was different from tentacle-penetration – not necessarily better (you can’t improve on perfection), but more intimate somehow: she wasn’t just fucking me with an appendage, she was fucking me from her very core. Well, she was tentacle-fucking me in my ass too, so I was actually getting the best of both worlds.

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