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Suck me Softly - chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 06:57:21 +0000 UTCThe storm outside roared, rattling the windows of the clinic, but within its walls the three friends huddled, seeking refuge from the tempest. Rainwater plastered their hair to their faces and soaked their clothes.
"I-it's s-so c-cold!" Cassie shivered, her teeth chattering, leaving a small puddle where she stood.
"Here," Stacy said, tossing her a fluffy towel. "Let's get out of these wet things. Monica, are there any bathrobes in the closet?"
"Umm, yeah," Monica replied, a strange hesitancy in her voice. "There are three in here." She tossed a robe at Stacy, avoiding eye contact.
Cassie, vigorously drying her legs, suddenly stopped and wrapped the towel around her waist leaving her wet shirt on. A furrow appeared on her brow. "Hey, Monica… can I check your back? It looked… odd when you were sleeping."
Monica stiffened. "You were in my room while I was sleeping?" A flush crept up her neck, though whether from embarrassment or something else, it was hard to tell. The changes happening within her were bringing with them a growing unease, a sense of desire, a kind of dirty little… well not that little, secret.
"I was just checking on you," Cassie insisted, her voice laced with concern. "Your back looked…i don't know, scabbed? Anyway, If it's just a bad scrape, you might need a bandaid before you put on dry clothes."
Monica hesitated again. How much did Cassie see? She wondered, a flicker of panic rising within her. Did Cassie see…everything? She clutched the towel tighter around her waist, to conceal the burgeoning change to her privates.
Yet as she looked over at her friends she noticed that the shirts that Cassie and Stacy wore were soaked and looked painted on. Cassie's nipples were tenting the shirt fabric from the cold, and Stacy's breasts were hanging free as she struggled to free herself from her shirt. Monica felt a slight flush coming on.
Monica's eyes darted back up from Cassie's chest to her eyes and seeing her concern, she knew there was no avoiding her. Cassie wouldn't let it go until she was satisfied that everything was okay. With a grimace, partly from a stiffness in her back and arms, and a stiffness in her panties, but also partly from the creeping dread. Monica reached for the hem of her soaked shirt. The wet material clung stubbornly to her skin, making a soft, wet thwack as she pulled it off, followed by the gentle slap of her breasts.
"Oh wow, what did you do to yourself?," Cassie gasped, her voice softer now, filled with gentle concern. "Does it hurt?"
"What hurt?" Monica asked in genuine ignorance. She felt the weight of their gazes, the air thick with unspoken questions. “What??”
With gentle fingers, Cassie touched the rough, grey protrusions that covered the center of her back, lining Monica’s spine. "Gosh, it's like...it's like these aren't scabs but rocks." Her touch was hesitant, as if she were unsure what she was feeling.
Monica winced slightly, but not from pain but how dull the sensation was on her back. She only registered the pressure of cassie's finger and just slightly. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice a soft whisper. "Everything's been a little…weird lately."
Stacy, who had been quietly toweling her hair, stared at Monica's back, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her own words were barely audible, a mumbled confession. "That's kinda like my…what the fuck is happening to us?" She stepped into the bathroom to peel off the sopping wet shorts, her panties clinging to them like a second skin. Slightly embarrassed and shy, she checked that Cassie or Monica wasn't looking and gently touched her thigh. The skin was rough and pebbled. Stacy pulled her robe tight around her waist.
The storm outside seemed to be reaching a crescendo, the wind howling. The lights in the room flickered a bit.
“Geez I'm glad we're off the boat!” She could hear Monica say from the other room.
A sudden click at the door caught the girls off guard, and they turned to see the receptionist standing in the doorway, two envelopes in her hand. "Girls, each of you has your own room," she said, her voice calm and warm.
Stacy quickly shouted "dibs on this one," from the bathroom her voice laced with a sense of possessiveness.
“Oooookay Stacy… don't want to share a bed?” Cassie grinned. “Okay where are our rooms then…um Jenny?” She asked the receptionist, eyeing her name tag.
“Just across the hall over here” Jenny replied
Monica followed Cassie out of the room, her mind reeling with questions, feelings and fears. The receptionist Jenny led them across the hall into their own rooms. The doors were a bit separated but on the same side of the wall.
Walking in Monica saw her room was nice, with a king sized bed in the center of the side room. A door in the far corner of the living room caught her attention, and she walked over to it, her heart skipped when she saw it had a deadbolt lock above the handle.
She opened the door, revealing another door behind it. "I knew it! Conjoined rooms" she thought, a sense of curiosity building in her chest. She heard a click, and the other door opened, revealing Cassie's room.
“Well hello neighbor!” Cassie giggled, her hair in a wrapped towel.
"Connected rooms, Cassie!" Monica exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.
In the other hallway, Katie walked down the corridor toward Heather's room, she’d carefully put her hair in a sheeps-head wrap concealing her ears. A flash of lightning illuminated the corridor, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. The storm had not yet begun to ease off.
She knocked gently on the door.
“Just a sec!” Heather called from within, her voice slightly muffled. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing her in a similar state—a bathrobe tied snugly at her waist, her hair loosely tousled.
“Oh, Katie, come in!” Heather smiled, her eyes wide with relief at the company.
Another flash of lightning startled them both, casting a bright glow in the dim hallway.
“Gosh, it looks like we just made it in before it got REALLY bad out there,” Katie said, her voice a mix of humor and trepidation.
“Yeah, still, I hope it doesn’t get much worse and damage the ship.” Heather replied, though her voice was steady, she couldn't hide the edge of concern lurking beneath. “But honestly, it’s better to be here than out on the open water.”
Katie couldn’t agree more. “Yeah, seriously! So, what's the plan now?”
“Well, I guess we’re here for tomorrow at the very least. Let Whit see to Monica. But I mean, honestly? If the guests want to, we could just stay here for the rest of the charter and take them back on Sunday,” Heather mused, a glint of mischief in her eye.
“Three days stuck here? Ughh wouldn’t that JUST be terrible!” Katie grinned, adopting an exaggeratedly disappointed tone.
Heather giggled. “Now, now, you’re still under contract for this charter. Can’t go running off with your boy toy,” she teased, nudging Katie playfully.
“Did you see in my room?” Katie said absentmindedly, scratching her left side. The gesture was subtle, but Heather noticed the faint flicker of discomfort in her expression. Katie didn’t seem to notice, or at least, she didn’t acknowledge it.
“No? Why?” Heather asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Somebody had some flowers waiting for me,” Katie said, her tone casual but her cheeks betraying a faint blush.
“Aww, look at you two!” Heather teased, nudging her playfully.
“Ooh, I know, it’s so cute,” Katie replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile.
A light scent of fish wafted through the air, subtle but unmistakable. It wasn’t overpowering—just a faint hint of something oceanic mixed with the hotel linens scent. Heather sniffed the air, her brow furrowing slightly the scent wasn't in the room before Katie came in.
“Ooo, I see,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement. “Then that explains the makeup! Practicing for tomorrow when he’s here in the morning?”
Katie froze for a moment, her fingers pausing mid-scratch on her side. She had nearly forgotten about the makeup, And her HANDS!—though now that Heather mentioned it, she made sure to check her ears were still covered and decided not to argue. “Yep! Just making sure I look definitely seductive,” she quipped
“And since he’ll be here in the morning I’m going to bed!” Katie smirked before leaving the room, a smile lingering on her lips.
“Well, goodnight!” Heather called after her, locking the door and stretching her arms out as she headed to her bedroom. “I need some rest,” she added, plopping down onto the edge of her bed.
She wrapped back into her robe. Pushing her concerns away. “ We're all safe and sound, it's just a little fatigue, nothing too bad for them. And PLEASE no damage to the ship!”
She flicked off the lights, wrapped herself up in the blanket. Ready for sleep. Listening as the storm settled slightly.
Katie smiled entering her room and seeing the flowers from Whit again. She took a deep breath in to enjoy their aroma. But her nostrils were met with a slick, fishy smell. "Oh hell!, is that me? Guess I need a shower." She slumped and stomped, "But I just got dry!" she whined.
Stepping into the bathroom there was another surprise. Pink silk button pajamas were folded neatly on the counter. Katie stopped and grinned at Whit’s second little gift. “Pink silk, huh?” She thought.
They looked expensive, impossibly soft. For a moment, the fishy smell and the odd feeling on her skin were forgotten, replaced by feeling like a silly girl with a crush. She carefully picked them up, seeing the webbing between her fingers remained longer than normal., the fabric cool and slinky against her fingers, before placing them back on the counter. “Maybe a bath would be better?” she asked herself, flexing her fingers.
Turning, she reached for the tap, turning on the water to get warm. While she waited, she glanced in the mirror. Still had that blue 'makeup' on. Though now there were strange, vivid yellow highlights on her eyelids. It didn't look like eyeshadow anymore; they had a faint, almost iridescent sheen she still couldn't quite wipe away. Were they... part of her skin now?
Pulling her hair back to check her ears again Katie leaned closer to the foggy mirror. Yes. Still definitely not normal ears. They had taken on a very aquatic and very fin-like shape, laying flat against her head but with several distinct,long rigid ribs visible beneath the skin. "OMG, is it getting worse?" she gasped, running a trembling finger over the strange structures.
Looking away from her reflection she saw on the marble counter a paper-wrapped bath bomb, complimentary from the resort, waited like a small indulgence. She unwrapped it, rolling the sphere in her palm. Its surface smelled faintly of sea salt, citrus, and something floral but unfamiliar—a perfume like moonlit gardens. Strange, but inviting.
Katie disrobed slowly, skin prickling in the humid air. She caught a glimpse of the rest of her body in the wide bathroom mirror: eyes shadowed, lips pale, hair frizzed from salt spray and storm. And her legs looked very bruised. She looked away quickly, as though refusing to give the thought a place to settle.
The bath bomb fizzed the instant she dropped it into the tub, bleeding spirals of teal and silver into the water. The scent swelled in the steamy air, thick and intoxicating like deep ocean currents pressing against her lungs. She slid into the warmth, letting the fizz crackle around her thighs, the colors swirling and obscuring her body until the bath resembled a shifting lagoon.
Her shoulders sank. Muscles she hadn’t realized were clenched seemed to unravel as if the water tugged them loose. Katie gave a soft sigh and closed her eyes. The tub cradled her, the swirling shimmer hugging her skin in ways that felt oddly intimate, like a lover’s fingertips brushing along her ribs.
For long moments, she just breathed, releasing each ounce of tension. The sound of her breath and the fizzing bath were the only rhythms. She thought of the ship’s deck, the crashing disorder of waves, the way rain had needled her face, how the ocean had seemed alive, hungry, beckoning. How nearly they didn't make it. But the more she thought of all that, the mystery of what was happening to all of them still lingered.
The low itch beneath her breasts returned again, deeper now, as though something beneath the skin stretched forward, pressing for release. She shifted, water lapping at her collarbones, the scented fizz gliding over her chest. Her palms hovered, then pressed gently against the spot, shocked at how sensitive it felt, how the touch sent a ripple of heat down her stomach. She frowned. That wasn’t normal.
Her breasts, too—they felt different. Full, heavy, straining against her own touch as though they had been gathering weight for days. Katie let out a low, unbidden sound, half sigh and half protest. Maybe it was hormones, nerves, exhaustion. She told herself anything to avoid the truth whispering in the back of her mind.
The fizzing bath obscured her view, the shimmering teal veil hiding her skin beneath. Running her fingertips down her torso, the water turned patches of her skin hypersensitive, as if every nerve ending had been amplified. That’s when she brushed a horizontal ridge across the tender space beneath her breasts. It wasn't a scratch, nor scar, but a shallow seam. Raised and deliberate, like her body had decided to write its own lines into her flesh.
Her breath caught. She pressed more firmly, and the ridges flexed faintly beneath her fingertips. A soft gasp slipped from her lips, more startled than afraid. “What now?”
The steam thickened, curling around her face as she drew her knees up into the water. The movement revealed something else—something brushing faintly through the water along her hips. She reached downward, smoothing her hand over her side where the sensation lingered. Beneath the silky veil of water, her skin was textured. Not wrong exactly, but… folded.
Pleats. Thin, pliable folds of flesh that flexed against her palm. They gave under her fingers, supple yet resilient, rippling when she shifted her legs. The resemblance was unmistakable: fins. The memory of childhood aquariums flickered in her head, watching tropical fish flick their bodies with effortless grace, their delicate fins fluttering like silk.
Her pulse quickened. She clenched her thighs together, the movement causing the water to tug strangely across those new pleats, the sensation intimate, invasive, yet sinfully delicate. Katie exhaled shakily, pressing her head back against the porcelain lip of the tub, eyes squeezed shut.
“God,” she murmured, voice trembling but hushed, “what is happening to me?”
The bath bomb had nearly melted away, its cloudy veil fading. The shifting water still disguised some detail, but she could no longer ignore her body. Her toes curled against the porcelain bottom of the tub. Something felt wrong there too. With sudden determination, she sat up straighter, dragging her feet upward through the lapping water until she could see them.
Her stomach tightened. The webbing between her toes stretched longer than it should, fine membranes gleaming faintly blue green in the warm light. She flexed, and the skin pulled taut, quivering like sails waiting for wind. It looked… functional. Made for water. Not human.
Katie sucked in a sharp breath, panic rising at last. She pulled the stopper, the water spiraling downward. The draining pool revealed more than she wanted. Her calves, still glistening, caught the light in unusual textures. What she had dismissed earlier as bruises weren’t fading. The damp air clarified them: dark, marine-blue patterns, geometric like overlapping scales lying dormant beneath her skin. She pressed one trembling hand against them; they were hard, protective, foreign. Her heart punched against her ribs.
“What?!, no, no—” Her voice cracked.
She stood too quickly, nearly slipping on the slick tile, and grabbed for the towel. The bathroom mirror caught her then, betraying more than she wanted to see. Blue patterns climbing, her eyes fever-bright beneath strange, yellowed accents at her lids, her damp hair framing her like she was both herself and someone else entirely.
Katie’s breath came fast, shallow, the steam no longer comforting but stifling. She pressed the towel to her chest as though she could cover the seams?, the folds?, her fins! but the truth pressed outward, undeniable.
“Whit,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please come soon.”
