FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Again, don't read if you're not supposed to.

Please comment and critique!

Sorry, this chapter doesn't have much yiff, but the next (and final) chapter will.

Since birth the mermaids were taught the sea-song. Deep beneath waves they dwelt in happiness, their song giving them life, power, and prosperity.

It was the mermaids who taught the whales to sing. Everything they did, from gathering their food, to protecting their fair underwater city to their very speech required their beautiful song. Scores of mermaids would go beyond the city to hunt, others would tend to their gardens, and still others would work on the various tasks that a kingdom required. There was even a legend that some mermaids were so powerful that they could even sing new shapes for themselves and others. All was done in happily.

All mermaids when they came of age were required to undergo a ceremony. The mermen, whose singing was not so enchanting, were usually delegated to other tasks, but the mermaids' siren song was strong. They were tested on their song: they had to wander where the current took them, waiting for their sign and then had to charm their "catch" with their song. Most mermaids went out and returned several days later with a school of fish eagerly following their lilting tunes. Some brought back other animals: a pod of dolphins, a swarm of plankton, one even returned with a humpback whale. But those who had lured the attention of men had a different problem altogether. Often, their lilting tunes would reach the ears of one man, who would blindly leap from his ship into the waves, so enchanted by their song, and other times entire ships would steer off-course, seeking the source of the sound. The mermaids had a strict code about interaction with the humans. While they deliberately avoided dealings with men, when one occurred the mermaids were required to undergo a special ceremony. Since human blood was strong, the mermaids would be required to couple with the men, saving them from drowning in return for the planting of their seed deep inside their wombs. But sometimes the birth would not be that of a merchild, but a human. And then the mother would have to abandon her child upon the shore. It was cruel, but necessary. A human could not live long under the waves. But that was their way.

* * * *

He wished it could be a fairy tale. He wished that he was a prince who lived in his estate on the sea-side in a castle that towered up like a mountain cliff and whose windows at night would be alight like a sky filled with stars. But that was just a dream, a hope of school boys who in their youth didn't yet realize the full tragedy of their mundane existence.

Her face often haunted him at night. He would see her in the shadows, standing in the corner of the room, smiling on the roadside, laying beside him in his bed; but he knew that she had no legs to stand on, she would not smile in the cold air of the surface world, and that her silvery fins would wither and shrivel if she laid upon his bed without water. Still, he would hum the strange song that she made during their brief encounter in the water. The tune relaxed him and comforted him; he liked to pretend that she could hear him humming it and he often pictured her smiling at his devotion to her. But no matter how far the wind carried his voice across the waves, no matter how often he wandered the shores of the sea, no matter how long he gazed at the great expanse of water, he never saw her.

After his miraculous return he had lingered in a nearby town working as an apprentice for a good man. When he told them of his "rescue" the townsfolk would laugh and tell him he was dreaming: a hallucination conjured out of desperation and they immediately dismissed it. He even tried to believe that they were right: for the longest time whenever the lightning streaked across the sky and he heard the roll of thunder and the crushing waves he would shrink back in fear. He remembered the terror he felt when his lungs had burned without air, the exhaustion that overwhelmed him when he dragged his body up upon the beach. But, when the seas were calm and the sky was clear whenever he gazed out at the sea he would see a face float in his memory. She was beautiful, he knew, but she was also a dream. He had fallen overboard from a ship and somehow managed to swim to shore, the desperation to save himself overcoming his weariness. That's what all the townsfolk told him. That is what he believed. But on clear days the feeling that the story he had accepted as fact didn't feel quite so right and the dream felt more real than it should have.

Years had passed. His master was a good and just man but was old and childless. When he passed away he left his small inheritance to his apprentice, instructing him to find a good girl, settle down, and start his own business. It seemed to storm less to him, and the townsfolk still only laughed when he mentioned the beautiful lady who had saved him. They told him while he inherited his master's wealth that the sea-maiden was a dream. They told him when he established his own business that he needed to forget her. They told him when the business became successful and he became a wealthy man that he needed to settle down and get married to a nice girl.

He hoped that his dream was a reality. Or, he believed in it so strongly that it had become real to him. Sometimes he would wish it were real so that he knew he wasn't completely insane. Other days he prayed it was just a dream so that he could remember the pleasantness of its course, but still be able to move on with his own live. Then the fear would come back that the mermaid was real that that he had abandoned her by trying to forget her memory. He couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with her. Why had she been so inviting toward him? Why had she encouraged him, allowed him to pleasure her, to make love with her? He kept going over and over the so-called dream in his mind, wondering why she chose him of all people.

He was working in his shop one day when it hit him: he loved her. He loved the mermaid; he didn't know why and he didn't know how else to describe it, but he did. He knew it was insane. He knew no one believed that his story was true, but it didn't matter. He knew it was real and he had to find her. He found every book on the subject of mermaids, desperately trying to find a way to find her again. He had visited mystics and witches and fortunetellers, trying to find a way for him to live beneath the waves. They were always understanding but skeptical, but they gave him their so-called spells anyways, so long as he paid. Still, he was bound to the land, unable to embrace the sea. They could never be together. She lived under the waves, he lived on the shore. It could never work. So he kept her close to her heart while he attempted to pretend his encounter with her was nothing more than a dream. He did as the townsfolk recommended: he found a nice young lady, courted her, and then proposed. That was, of course, the way things were supposed to work.

He sighed inwardly. Of course Miss Rose lived on the seashore.

* * * *

It had been years since she had last seen the human man.

Their union had, as she knew, resulted in a pregnancy. She gave birth to a beautiful baby boy with curls of golden hair, bright eyes, and a silvery fin, just like hers. She had cared for the child as long as she could, and she loved him dearly. But as the years passed his fin divided into two, and then those two fins became more fleshy and less scaly, until finally, he had two legs. She sang and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to breathe under the waves while she herself wept. What was she supposed to do? The child was definitely more human than merman and couldn't survive beneath the sea. He needed to go to shore. Summoning her strength, she took a leave of absence from her people to take him there so that they could part forever. That was the way of her people.

She had tended to him on the sea shore, caring for him until he could run about the sand like any normal human child. She gently pushed him toward the nearby town, watching him tearfully as he ran toward the glittering lights laughing happily. She knew someone would take him in and raise him and he would grow up as a human and never know his mermaid mother.

But the child always came back, always returned to cling desperately to the waves until she wrapped her arms around him in comfort. He didn't want to leave. Finally she kissed his forehead and weeping bitterly, began to sing. She gave him all the magic she could, singing him the image of his father and the human speech she had heard. She gave him strength and courage, doing as much as she could to prepare her child for what had to happen. She sang so that he might find his father and know at least part of his family, since he could no longer know her. She had to let him go.

With the siren song in his ears, the child had wandered away from the sea and toward the town, seeking the human settlement. The mermaid wept but she had no choice. It was the way of her people.

* * * *

Miss Rose was thrilled about the engagement.

She had come from a well-to-do family, the youngest daughter of a wealthy man with too many daughters to begin with and not enough sons and so her family was thrilled when he proposed. That was the way things were supposed to work. It seemed too good to be true: he was kind and gentle, she was beautiful and intelligent. She wore her hair pinned up, dressed in the latest fashions, and would say all the right things that were expected of her. But as he got to know her, he realized that they were indeed compatiable. He could talk to her for hours without ever growing bored, he could tell her whatever was on his mind, they agreed on most topics and the ones they disagreed on they were polite enough to have civilized debates about. She trusted him and confided in him. She told him that she had always wanted a child, that she wanted to be left in peace in her seaside mansion, free to roam the beaches, delve into her books, and wander her gardens. He told her he longed to return to sea. They understood one another and while he knew she loved him more than he loved her, he also knew that their marriage would work well. He pined for the mermaid but pretended to be excited about his upcoming nuptials instead; he would smile politely when the townsfolk told him that they would make the perfect couple.

They would kiss, whenever they were alone. When her parents were in the room they would exchange demure glances, their cheeks might flush, and sometimes their hands might touch lightly. At first when they were alone, they would partake in passionate embraces, driving their tongues into each others mouths, grasping one another's bodies, feeling their hearts racing wildly, pounding against their chests. He almost convinced himself that he loved her.

But as they began to have more and more alone time together, he began to notice that their passionate embraces were just a mere embrace for him while Miss Rose was the one to put the passion into it. It wasn't that he didn't care for her: he did. But the love that she apparently had for him simply was not reciprocated. And as much as she loved him, he could never match her devotion; not when his mind could only stray to the mermaid beneath the sea.

To his horror she would begin to try to find ways to draw them away from the servants and her parents so that they could be alone. Her fingers would trace over his skin and make him shiver as she unbuttoned his shirt. But to his embarrassment, he was never quite so ready to receive her. She was beautiful and he cared for her deeply, but he never felt the blood rushing between his legs whenever they were together. They tried multiple times, but every time they were about to be intimate, his mind would wander to the mermaid and Miss Rose, however beautiful, could not compare. He felt guilty about it, remembering what it was like when he was with the mermaid. It wasn't a problem in the least. There was no doubt: he loved her. He didn't love Miss Rose.

He took a deep breath. The whore house was his last resort. He could delay their consummation for now but on their wedding night it would be unavoidable. If he couldn't make love to a woman here, then he didn't know what to do on the night of his marriage.

It wasn't difficult finding the right woman there: he told the madam he wanted a blond before he even realized what he had wanted. When he had them arrayed before him he quickly selected a whore who, to his surprise, was a slim, beautiful girl with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was not the mermaid, but he had apparently chosen a woman who was the most similar to his aquatic lover. Reasoning that that was probably the best approach to his problem, he reluctantly followed her to her room, hoping for the best.

He thrust into her desperately, trying to block out the image of her face. It was not the lined face of a weary whore, her makeup cracking and flaking away as the night wore on; no, it was the beautiful, pale face of the mermaid, her skin aglow with happiness and pleasure at their coupling. He pretended there wasn't a difference at the way she gripped him tightly. The mermaid had encircled her arms around him, kissing and caressing; the whore only clutched his skin and raked her fingers on his flesh. He finally had to close his eyes in order to continue: it bothered him the way her saliva gleamed on his skin; he could see the trail her tongue had made on him and somehow it disquieted him. Under the water there would be no trace, only the tingling remained. He felt as if the gleaming flesh was a way of cheating at the game. Closing his eyes, however, might have been a bad idea because now all he could hear was her sound. He ignored her throaty moans, he tried not to think of animals as he continued to service her, fucking her as hard as he could, willing himself to cum. But her squeals and grunts were nothing compared to the soft sighs of the mermaid, the surprised gasps, and the humming she made when she was in the throes of pleasure. Even the sounds of sex was something entirely alien to him. He was disgusted by the squelching sound his penis made when it penetrated her netherlips, the heavy panting of the woman and the groaning of the bed. The sounds of water rushing about him, the tender moans of the mermaid: that had been magical. This just felt ridiculous. He gripped the whore more firmly as her head lolled on the bed, adjusting himself before continuing. If he could just cum then he'd be able to get it over with, he would have proved that he was capable to marrying Miss Rose. But the longer he thrust, the more he knew it was hopeless. Even if he closed his eyes and ignored the sounds, he couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle the way her legs wrapped around him.

The whore had been understanding when he finally gave up and pulled his softening cock from her, slick with her juices, leaving them both unsatisfied. She was very understanding, so long as she was paid; but he saw the smirk on her face when he turned away to leave.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered into the night's cool darkness. It was as if the mermaid had unintentionally cursed him. He was disgusted by coupling with a female of his own species, though, granted, the whore had probably been a poor choice. Still, he couldn't understand why something he had looked forward to his entire life suddenly didn't feel right to him. Was it because the mermaid had done something to him? Given him unrealistic expectations about sex? Or perhaps, he reasoned, he was simply not in love with anyone else. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. How could he possibly be in love? They had met only for a few hours - a few, glorious hours- and they hadn't even spoken. She had made beautiful sounds in her own language, but he didn't understand a word. He sighed. It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. The way she had touched him, guided him, held him - surely it meant something. But he was being a fool dwelling on it. After all, it had happened years ago. SIghing in resignation, he trudged his way back to the house.

Miss Rose looked up happily when he entered the room. "Oh good, you're back," she grinned, standing up to greet him. "You were gone for so long that I was starting to get worried that you might have fallen into the ocean."

He did not smile. He could not, after his mind wandered for a moment and he thought of throwing himself into the waves, waiting to be saved by the mermaid again. "Miss Rose?" he said softly, suddenly making the decision without even thinking about it. "May I ask you something?"

Alarm flashed in her eyes. "Of course," she said gently, but she suddenly looked worried.

He took a steadying breath. "Do you believe in mermaids?"

* * * *

She had refused to marry any of the mermen. While they were mostly quite handsome, all of them strong and proud, they were not her human. She knew it was foolish, hopeless even. But how could she give up on the man she loved so much? But her father had insisted and she had no choice. She had successfully completed her ceremony. Now she needed to find a mate and marry for life. Now she needed to forget the human.

The merman told her that it was a thing of the past: it had happened years ago. He told her to let it go: it was done and over now. But she could not forget. How could she? The memories of that joyful time with the human man who was so gentle, so loving, how could she possibly ignore them? How could she overlook the child that the union had brought her?

The merman held her in his arms for a few moments, telling her that this was the way of their people. She hesitated, unresponsive to his actions and he became frustrated at her unwillingness to love him. He instantly twined his tail around hers and began to violent hump against her. She tried to push him away, pleading with him to wait, to mate her another day, but he refused and roughly pushed his length into her. She screamed, the sound so deafening that the merman quickly grabbed her head and clamped his hand over her mouth. Angrily, he slammed his hips back into her. He thrust firmly for several minutes, grunting, then he slowed and held her close. He comforted her, apologizing, telling her that this was the way of their people, that she had to marry one of her own kind. She smiled through her tears, pretending that everything was alright because it was what a good mermaid would do, and, seeing her approval, the merman continued.

The ridges on his penis were supposed to provide pleasure, but she only felt the sharp pain within her every time one of them scraped her passages. When she shuddered, it was in disgust not in ecstasy. When she moaned it was in pain, when she gripped his shaft with her walls it was in prayer that it would end quickly. This coupling was the last thing she wanted. The merman seemed to enjoy his time with her. He gasped and grunted, snorting as he gripped her skin hard, desperately trying to find more leverage in order to thrust more deeply into her body until his penis pummeled against her cervix. She was limp in his arms, waiting for it to be over, feeling his massive girth pushing and pulling against her inner walls, throbbing and twitching with each passionate thrust. He began to thrust fast and faster, his eyes widened, his grip tightened, and then he let out a mangled cry of joy.

When he finished, she could feel the flood of his warm seed inundated her insides and she felt relief that it was over, relief that she knew she would not become pregnant with his child from his coupling. She knew, as soon as she felt relief that it was over, that she could never handle being married to a merman. It had to be the human boy. He was the only one she had ever loved and ever will love. Right then she resolved that she would leave her people that night and return to the seaside to find him.

* * * *

He sighed, sitting alone in a chair by the fireside, absently flipping through one of his mermaid books. He had told her everything, and even when she smiled and said it was just a dream, he had insisted until her smile faltered and she looked rather disturbed. Miss Rose had left, not sure what to make of his tale and more than likely thinking that he had lost his mind. She had kissed his forehead, glancing at the pile of books on the floor all on mermaids, and told him that he would feel differently in the morning. He had smiled, pretending that she was right but he knew she wasn't. In the morning he would still be just as much in love with the mermaid as he was today. He only wished that there was something he could do about it... even if the witch said the spells were dangerous, surely he could at least try again...

"Sir?" One of Miss Rose's serving girls knocked and appeared in the doorway, looking somewhat unsure.

He started in surprise and quickly closed the book. "What is it, Lizzie?" he said gently.

She hesitated. "There's a child here to see you."