High Tide
Warning: This story contains transformation, growth, butt expansion and breast expansion. You've been warned!
High Tide, by DragonMasterX.
Many stories speak of a nameless sea dog of mysterious origin, He who single-handedly could sink vessels without firing a single cannon ball, He who challenged the infamous Edward Teach to duel and survived, He who was often mistaken for Devil Jonah, or the equally cryptic Davy Jones.
All the tales shared the same common denominator: That tool He would never be seen without. Envious and admirers alike would name it the sole reason He's accomplished all the feats that so far had placed him in the 18th century's Atlantic ocean's mouths and ears, until just recently.
This tool, a golden compass-shape of sorts, He would always hold in his left hand they said. The center was bloody red, and there was no way to tell why that was, but many speculated it was a mystical artifact said to draw the power of those the holder had slain, others attributed its good luck to witch-craft and the sort, but they were all wrong in conjecturing, or at least not entirely correct.
His all-important 'trinket' was of mystical origin, without a doubt, for no common man, not even the mighty pirate Blackbeard, could work wonders such as His.
A scholar of the occult once had managed to spot, or so he claimed, that which had placed this man in such high regard, and in relation to his studies deduced the artifact had been none other than the Seal of Forneus.
A powerful high class demon, Forneus was said to possess vast knowledge on the human behavior and was able to grant any one man with his supernatural powers and endow them with the ability to accomplish anything they desired. Legend has it however that a righteous god sent an angel to strike this demon and seal the beast off its body by draining all of its blood into a container of sorts.
He was said to have been carrying the Seal in his hand, and all of a sudden the feats He had been said to have accomplished made much more sense.
"No, it didn't just make sense. This nameless dog had mastered a demon's power. Any pirate holding this artifact would be granted its power, yet... Word has it He has been stricken down by righteous hand. Rumors began as his frequency at sea started to dwindle, finally the churches in land began to preach about Him and His corrupted soul having finally been purified after all His evil deeds as a pirate."
"Why are you telling me all of this?" a shy voice asked inside the dark chambers of the S.S. Anthony's captain quarters. The female was tied down to a chair, her messed up dark hair draped over her deflated shoulders, sign of her lost hope.
"Hmph, it sounds less crazy to say I'm talking to a pretty woman than to myself, doesn't it?" Captain Locke turned around, his rough English accent transpiring through his mouth as much as the sweat that went down his thick neck. Captain Locke used to be a small-name crook in land and had somehow raised enough to commandeer a large ship with an adequate number of people for his crew. Now a pirate of the Bahaman seas, Locke prided himself in sea plundering and as many similar criminal activities as he did on land, now on a ship at the vast Atlantic ocean.
"When will we reach land? Am I going to be let go?"
Captain Locke let out a chuckle. "Haven't heard a word I've said, eh? But I'll play along, lil' miss. Normally we'd just... make use of your charms, if you will, and then simply discard you along the way, no commitments you see. However, during the visit we paid to the ship we took you from we heard one hot tip on the Seal of Forneus. Surprise, surprise... the reason He hasn't been seen around is because he's gone, but his pretty trinket went down with him, and there's a good chance it's still intact, and highly valuable y'see..." he grinned.
"Ugh... simple-minded brutes going after some sort of childish dream spurring from a street rumor about a super pirate... Just my luck," the girl thought, unable to find any solace, or any less, in the Captain's words.
Janice, or "Jean" to her parents used to belong to the high class of life in the European metropolis, yet by a cruel twist of fate she happened to be the person of terrible bad luck the Locke Pirates decided to take as hostage from the luxury voyage her parents had paid for her. Jean was supposed to meet the man of her dreams in that conglomeration of noble-classed people, yet someone must've found it humorous to make her the sexual slave of a bunch of smelly pirates instead. She hadn't even been keeping her hopes up in the voyage, and found that she had been the 'sacrifice' rather ironic.
"Dear, you seem lost in thought," the cheery, burly Captain groaned, displeased by her lack of attention to the tale and information he held in such high regard.
"Locke, I..."
"Captain Locke, my little sea biscuit," the man flashed her his best, sensual grin, but what he thought was sensual appeared to be making Jean's stomach do flips.
"...of course, how silly of me," Jean finally corrected herself after a pause, then followed: "I am to assume you're after this magical trinket of yours, yes? Surely you don't need the encumberance of a woman in your... fine ship."
"Why the hesitation?" Locke chuckled again, amused, as he sipped scotch directly from the bottle, then let out a hearty laugh, "You're being treated well aren't you? We give you food, we don't even ask you to wash our clothes! Aren't we true gentlemen?" he rhetorically asked. Jean couldn't help a grimace.
"You and your flea circus have been raping me since day one!" she suddenly shouted, her chair rattled, the frilly dress bouncing with her as she attempted to stand up, blind in fury and to the bonds restraining her.
"...ah ah ah... tsk tsk tsk, we've talked about this, dear Jean," Locke set his bottle of whisky down on a side table and made his way to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You should save the frisk for the bed, and nothing else. We're taking you along for the ride, and you don't have to do much else than... well, what else is a woman good for?" he laughed, causing Jean to growl right back at him. Locke glared at her defiance and pulled her by the hair, causing her to scream out from the sharp pain. "Now you listen good, wench. First you ignore me and my tales, next you dare insult my crew in front of me and now you go and decide to snarl me. Don't you got some balls under that skirt of yours?" he then brought his hand down and smacked Jean across the face, "Understand this, because I'm tired of hitting you, of damaging that beautiful face of yours," he grunted, holding Jean's head by her jaws, the girl looking back at him with teary eyes, yet with the same defiant expression in her face, "You are mine, and when I say you'll give pleasure to my men, you'll undress yourself and take it with a BIG smile. If I bring you to my quarters to chat, you'll listen obediently and nod with a BIG smile. You'll do anything I tell you, won't you my pretty?"
Jean couldn't do much else but nod, her battered face hurting too much for her to receive another smack from that heavy hand of his.
"I asked a question, curse you!" he yelled.
"Yes I will..." she coughed, eyes scrunched shut from his shout.
"I can't hear you!" he pulled again on her hair, making her scream.
"YES I WILL!"
"You will what?!"
"I'll do anything you tell me! I'll do it!" Jean cried, emotionally broken and beyond scared. "Stop it, stop pulling, it hurts! Please!!" she sobbed, her teeth gritting together as she bore the pain.
Locke smiled and finally let go, crouching slightly so she could see his face as she spoke to him, bathing her face with the smell of alcohol: "So long as you get it, dear."
She sobbed, unable to get back at him, the impotence of the situation having drained both her strength and will. Jean felt horrible, she could do nothing, say nothing. She was no less than a slave. No, she was much less than a slave. She was an object exclusively for their relief. They all saw her as nothing else but a tool they could use and then pass to the next one that needed it. She sobbed, begging the gods for mercy, praying for a miracle, reciting orations for solace, asking with her mind for a miracle to save her from this inane life-style that had been forced upon her poor soul.
Her prayers however would not be answered until 3 days later when a serious storm was rocking the boat. It was the middle of the night, and every man was busy keeping the ship from losing to the unforgiving powers of mother nature. Jean was naked and in one of the rooms for the crew; just until this moment one of the men had been abusing her as usual, but the sudden storm that hit them required everybody to leave and man the posts. Jean was alone, and for the first time she felt lucky in spite of the current situation.
For a while she sat at the bed, grabbing to a support pole on the side in order not to fall over from the wild rocking on the ship. Jean was looking absent-mindedly at the wooden floor, thinking she must've been crazy to even consider what her head was suggesting her to do. She was alone, and no one was watching her; they were all too busy. This was her chance, the chance she had been praying for.
On the other hand, what sort of crazy lunatic would attempt to escape a pirate ship during such a big storm? Yes, she must have been crazy, but any more days in this ship would drive her unrecognizably insane to even matter if she was ever rescued. She had to try. If she died trying, she would at least finally be free.
With her priorities in order, Jean quickly got herself in her undergarments and decided to take her chance. She went outside and instantly bore witness to the chaos that was the deck: Men yelling incomprehensible orders at each other, the creaking sound of wood resounding along the area, the thundering roars of the black skies as lightening struck in the distance. Jean would've found this especially scary on any other day, but the prospect of being able to steal a boat right now and escape this living nightmare made her ignore everything that was happening and head to the boats on the side of the ship.
Making sure nobody saw her, which was already hard thanks to the hectic moment plus the darkness that helped her with concealment, she managed to sneak over to the boats, and with the sharp knife she had managed to secure from the emptied crew's quarters, she began with the chore of cutting the first support rope enough so the boat would remain where it was but would fall after the other rope was cut down. "This knife they dropped in their haste really is sharp... I'm glad I'm getting out of here," a shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the last week, a horrible time in her life she would never want to go back to. She was so focused on the reminiscing that in that very brief moment she bumped onto one of the men that was running her way. Jean could've hidden behind a barrel, crate or pole, but she had to decide to let her guard down at the last second.
She looked up and widened her eyes. The man standing before her was the same guy that had been raping her before the storm hit. She groaned and suddenly rage welled inside her. Jean didn't even let the pirate say a word; he was as startled as she was it seemed. Jean didn't think about it, her arm moved on its own, her hand clutching the knife as hard as she could muster, and she slashed.
The pirate screamed in pain as he felt the gash form across his face. He held a hand to his skin while he thrashed about with his free arm. Unfortunately for Jean he managed to easily knock the knife off her hands with a single whack of his closed fist. Terrified, Jean attempted her last ditch effort and tried jumping onto the boat, praying for it to somehow fall into the sea with her on board, but the sailor reached for her, roaring in pain as he finally uncovered his bleeding face, "You! You bloody witch! You'll pay for this, dun' matter whatta captain says!" he hollered, attempting to strangle her in place after having extracted her from the safety boat. Jean closed her eyes as she gagged, starting to choke. Maybe this was the end, but somehow it didn't please her that she was going to die at this fop's hands, even if death she was prepared to embrace. Just then, however, a sharp cry alerted both of them.
"Get to your post, you fool! What in tarnation do you think you be doin'?!" a voice distracted the pirate just in time to let the weakened Jean breathe again as his grip softened, but then the ship rocked violently and he completely lost his grip. Jean fell off the edge followed by the burly pirate.
"Hey, heeey!" the other pirate yelled, "Water! Man in the water! Man fell down!" he shouted, attempting to hurry over to the edge but was promptly stopped by Captain Locke.
"He's gone, matey," Locke grunted, quickly looking over the board, "Can't help him now. We don't do this now, we can all celebrate at Davy Jones' locker. Now move!" he barked.
Little did the Captain know that he had just lost more than just a crew member to the raging sea.
The Bahamas is well known for its touristic attractions, but many ignore the beautiful natural undersea caves that hold tons of natural treasure. As a part of the ignorant mobs of the time, Jean felt dumbfounded when she woke up inside one of them, her throbbing head unable to make sense of anything that had happened until this moment.
Her body felt weaker than usual, was bruised and hurt all over. As she managed to stand up on her two feet she noticed thanks to the faint glows of the stalactite and some other shiny paraphernalia around her there was someone beside her. That's when it all came back to her. "The ship... that good-for-nothing, I... ugh... is he alive...?" her mind was in disarray, but the priority to her own survival, and well being, seemed to be fine. On her knees the young woman went and shyly she poked the body next to her. The man didn't respond, but she still tried to elicit a response.
Eventually, she gave up on his consciousness and attempted to flip the poor sod over. Jean had to put her own strength to work here, the man wasn't light at all, but eventually he was on his back, and as she inspected his face her gaze averted. "Ugh... I did that...?" she questioned herself. The guy still had a gash across his face, she had no idea how long they had been drifting through the sea currents, but with her alive she determined it hadn't been long enough to drown but certainly long enough for him to bleed to death.
"No," she straightened up, "They were monsters, he... he deserved that," Jean said in an attempt to calm herself. She had never had a chance to picture herself murdering someone, and now that it happened she wondered what it would've been like if she had tried defending herself with a weapon earlier, maybe hatch a clever plan to overthrow that son-of-a-whore, Locke. She shook her head, none of it mattered now.
On her own, without anything but a dead body next to her, Jean was sure this was some sort of safe haven for the time being. Way better than with this guy's friends at the least. Jean sighed, finally starting to look around in order to collect her bearings. She was at an underwater cave; she had read about these in books but had never expected to actually end up in one.
The view around her was beautiful and soothing, in a way, able to put her worries and the fact she had just been at a pirate ship full of rapists at ease. It wasn't long before she noticed the extra shiny paraphernalia around her happened to be immense amounts of loot, ranging from piles of gold coins to chests full of precious gems and other valuable pieces of treasure. Her eyes widened at the collection, it was all probably worth ten, no, a hundred times her family's fortune!
And then her heart suddenly sank. "No... don't tell me this is a pirate hideout?!" her mind went wild with pessimism, needing to hold her head with both hands in order to settle her nerves down. Jean wasn't ready for another scuffle, plus if she was seen with the dead body of a pirate they might kill her on the spot thinking she was a threat!
She thought of finding a place to hide, but then realized that she couldn't hear anyone but herself in the cavern. In fact, she assumed that if someone hadn't found her already with all this loot up for grabs then either this was an abandoned place or no one was home. In either case, Jean allowed her exalted respiratory system a much-needed breath of relaxation and decided to take a small walk to clear her messy head.
There were immense amounts of treasure, some pieces she had heard of belonged to royal auctions or places in high-class that even her family wasn't part of. The beautiful sparkle of man-made treasure under the bask of the natural stalactite was a sight to behold. Jean could feel herself relaxing, but the break lasted even less than the last as in her admiration of the dim-lit cavern she bumped into the clothed skeleton of a dead man, the figure stuck to a big golden cross, "AHH!" she screamed, stumbling down onto the ground. She kicked the bone pieces that came off and near her away, then hugged her knees and sobbed, then laughed at her embarrassment. Jean really was alone, there was no one threatening her anymore, and she was surrounded by dead people, her beating heart mocking their sad tales; her form was surrounded by treasure both artificial and natural, and it all seemed... almost out of a tale, fiction maybe.
Which reminded her of the story jackass Locke had been lecturing her with earlier. Settled down, she reminded herself of the tale as she revered the crucified skeleton with her eyes. The nameless sea dog, only dubbed as "He" or "Him". She spat to that, as if defying the lack of proper identification for the character. What kind of legend depicts a heroic figure without a name to properly address them with? She tried to remember more of it and chuckled, unable to shake the feeling her mind was in the mood to play with her feelings, currently reminding her of the man she wished she had killed instead of a lowly grunt.
Nonetheless she entertained the thoughts, but as she did her eyes caught sight of something by the skeleton's left hand. It was holding something, clutching more like it, something that glowed as bright as any other treasure in the room but it piqued her curiosity even more as she reminded herself of that 'compass-like artifact' Locke had mentioned before. The Seal of Forneus, was it? A demon whose essence lay trapped within a special trinket, the holder of whom would be granted special powers to do anything they wished...
Right now, all she wanted was return to the surface and go back to feeling good about being a woman.Her virginity lost to the sea brutes, she felt the anger well up inside but she tried to hold it back. Futilely so, as she soon let out a loud scream from all of her pent up anger. Curse the pirates! Curse those rapists, they had ruined her life! They had turned her into nothing more than an object, nothing less! Curse Locke, that slug of a man! She felt all of her anger gather at her right hand and then she suddenly shouted as she felt it impact against the skeleton in front of her. The bone was so brittle and creaked that the spine she hit burst into a small cloud of dust.
Gasping for air, Jean held by her aching hand and cringed, trying to block the pain out. That had been stupid, but at the same time she felt so good after doing it. Letting go felt good, very good. She only wished she'd been able to do this before when she was back at that god-forsaken pirate ship. Soon enough, she stood back up, coughing slightly from the thick dust flying around her and then finally noticed her punch had managed to knock the little device off the skeleton's hand. It looked like a compass. She chuckled to herself, thinking this was amusing more than coincidental anymore, "A holy cross smiting the evil vessel of an evil demon... right out of a tale like those dumb men would..." she reached down for the compass, but upon grabbing it she shrieked in pain as she felt a needle stick into her palm. She watched as the round, flat device's crimson red section seemed to drain off as if it had liquid inside.
Jean had no idea what was going on, but she seemed to be in a trance, as if she needed to pay attention to the draining of the liquid. Finally, when it was all gone from the compass she felt herself regain control and finally swatted the spiked thing off. She looked at her palm for the injury but was surprised to find no damage at all, as if she had not been pricked at all.
Blinking in surprise, she turned her attention back to the object and carefully lifted it again, relieved that it didn't hurt her this time. There seemed to be a needle of sorts sticking out of the compass' back, but she was sure it was red in the front's center, yet now it was all blank, as if the color had been completely faded out in two seconds.
She dropped the compass suddenly. Jean was feeling light-headed, as if she had been intoxicated with something like alcohol, except it felt greater than inebriation, as if every fiber in her body was being softly massaged at once by the most delicate and loving set of hands in the world.
Jean arched back, her eyes dilating as she seemed to enter a trance of sorts. She was hugging herself as if afraid, jaw dropped and mouth hanging open. The woman was staring at nothing in specific of the vast amount of space before her, yet she was looking at much more than any other human being had seen for centuries.
Somehow, visions were being projected directly into her brain, and as her surroundings faded she instantly realized she wasn't at the cavern anymore, but at the bottom of the sea. She was breathing normally, and somehow she felt as though nothing had changed in spite of it being full of swimming fish and other sea animals. With the schools of little fish escaping she then discerned a pair of figures facing off against each other; one of them a winged being and the other appeared to be a large type of shark. The winged one was winning, and it wasn't long before the shark had doubled over and began to float up. Jean saw the victor stop the apparent corpse of its opponent and appeared to take out a small device of sorts, it shone with a familiar glow, before the winged one plunged it in on the shark's sides.
The vision faded, then suddenly Jean wasn't in that surreal version of the deep sea, but back into the stalactite undersea cavern, yet something was different. She could swear she could listen to two people argue. Two figures stood before her, both obscured by shadows, yet the distinct shape of the one intimidating the other figure made her realize it was the same winged one from before. Jean had to avert her gaze as the figure with the wings lifted what seemed to be a heavy blade and impaled the startled other dead before leaving.
The figure impaled by the giant sword came into focus, the same device as before clutched in his hand. Jean was convinced now. She was somehow watching the events of what led the compass to its present location! "But then this means..." she hesitated, looking down at the shattered trinket, "The Seal... The Seal of Forneus! It was real... then... this must be that pirate..." she deduced, looking at the remains of said pirate.
Her senses came into focus again and she could see all before her once more. Jean shuddered slightly. What was to become of her now? Now that she had seen all of that, now that she had held the accursed amulet, that fabled compass. It was then that she nodded her head, holding by her forehead as a pounding in her brain made her cringe. "It hurts... what's happening?" she asked no one, expecting no reply.
"Thou hast unsealed mine essence, woman," a sinister voice rung in her head, scaring her to the point she began looking everywhere for the source of the sound until she realized it was in her head. "Thou whom mortality aches for greatness, thou whom mortality desires more than thine bounds allow. Let mine essence envelop thou."
Jean had no idea what to respond with. What essence was the voice talking about? And whose voice did it belong to? Then the pieces began falling together on their own. The prick she had felt earlier, the draining liquid; she had somehow injected herself with it. All that remained was to determine whose essence this was, but it wasn't going to be long before the answer clearly manifested itself.
"Our bond is now unbreakable, mortal. Let it be known that Forneus is back, although weakened and in spirit form, severed from mine original body and now residing in a different plane, mine powers now belong to thee."
"Power? I don't want power! I don't want the power of a demon!" Jean finally snapped, holding by the sides of her head. "Leave me, foul creature! Evil is not what I want to be in exchange for power!" she begged, the voice appeared amused.
"Thine concept of evil is flawed, mortal. For thou can see it through the eyes of thy god, or through thine own eyes."
"Whatever are you speaking of?!" Jean demanded.
"Thy god be no more than a manipulator, one who wishes to enslave thee to His eternal will. Leave the false lessons that have modeled thee in his image, there is only one will that matters; thine own."
Jean fell silent. Was the demon attempting to seduce her? All along her life had been that of a high-class woman under the wing of her parents, who would not let her choose and would choose for her, and the cycle seemed to repeat itself no matter where she looked at it from. Where it wasn't with her family it would be in church, and where it wouldn't be in church it would be with strangers, those like Locke that would take power into their hands and employ it for their selfish gain. Anger seemed to seethe through her flared nostrils as she thought back to all those moments where she wished power was hers, so she wouldn't be bothered, so she could defend herself and her own interest, allow herself to choose.
The demon's words rang true in her head, and bit by bit she seemed to convince herself that this was, all along, what she had been waiting for. The chance to turn her life around, to forget about others and to simply think of herself.
"Forneus, is it?" Jean spoke, loud and clear, her eyes trying to look above her head as if the demon was actually floating above her. "Power... in exchange for what?"
"Thou hast already assimilated mine essence, mortal. It had been sealed by He who would hamper us demons and manipulate humans. In escaping my prison I left my power to he or she who would chooseth to live free of bounds, free of obligations... Mine only wish is that it is not restricted."
"So you're not a demon that asks for souls, are you? Interesting," Jean said, apparently taking a liking to conversing with herself even if would've sounded like lunacy any other day, "According to what you say, I already have the power. Was it your blood in that compass?"
"Correct."
"What about that man? Or what's left of him at least. Did he not have the power as well? How come he ended up like that?"
"He was a fool who couldn't figure out how to extract mine essence. The vibrant aura of the holy trinket might have endowed him with supernatural power, yet simply carrying that object with himself made him a beacon for those accursed angels. It wasn't long before he paid the price for being careless."
"Will angels come down to strike me now, then?"
"He moves in mysterious ways, sometimes in ways that even us demons cannot understand. It is mine belief that He will eventually become aware of your corrupted soul."
"Wait, my soul is corrupted?"
"Mortal, thou must surely not have expected the power of a demon without consequence?"
Silence.
"Master of the rhetorical is one of the many names I go by in Hell, woman," the demon in her head said. Jean couldn't help herself but giggle. All of her life she had expected demons to be fearsome creatures that would shred humans to pieces simply because of looking at them but here she was, having a casual conversation of supernatural characteristics with one. She felt almost as if she had already embraced what had happened to her, and why not? Now she was powerful, she was finally one with her true self. She was going to use her power for herself, and no one would be able to say a thing about it.
"What now, Forneus?" Jean said impatiently, already eager to test something, anything, out.
"A contract, mortal. That is how us demons operate."
"Yes?"
"As I've said, thou must never forget... thine power will forever be unrestrained, and never will thou allow anyone to stop thee or thy way of life. Forneus' power must live, and all will bear witness to it."
"No problem," Jean casually said, smiling deviously.
"With that, the contract is fulfilled... mine powers, mortal, are now thine, forever."
With that Jean finally felt that rush of pleasure which had made her feel so good earlier. It was as if something had unlocked within her, and she couldn't wait to accept it. If what the demon had been saying was true, her power would be immense and she would become unstoppable. That was her biggest wish. "Make me powerful!" she yelled, her scream filling the caves.
Hugging herself, Jean felt a tingling sensation fill her every cell. She hugged herself and laughed as she bent forwards, feeling a pair of bumps forming at her back. One was located just above her buttocks, while the other seemed to take up most of her back. An aura of dark blue began swirling around her and she grinned, eyes shut as she reveled in the transformation taking place.
Her ears picked up the sound of clothes shredding as the bump on her back grew and easily tore through the back of her shirt, revealing what seemed to be a semi-crescent shape. Meanwhile, the bump below was growing longer and thicker, dropping past her knees and then to her shins, eventually becoming a long, thick, powerful looking tail that forked in two at the tip and then spread equally to the sides, forming a fin.
That process was just the beginning. Jean was still grinning, feeling the power envelop her, the aura glow brighter as she felt full of strength for the first time in weeks. Opening her eyes, her wicked smirk directed its happiness at her open hand, fingers of which were starting to be joined by a thin, clear membrane that resembled a webbed paw. Her nails seemed to have grown and joined her fingers, forming sharpened claws. Jean laughed louder, looking at the same changes occurring to her other hand and feet.
"Oh!" she moaned as she suddenly felt the pleasurable sensations move to her chest and hips. Jean was actually an attractive woman with a healthy appearance as well as beautiful endowments. She became especially ecstatic once she realized her breasts were stretching the dirty rag she had been using to cover herself during her escape. The shirt had already been damaged on its back thanks to the fin that had grown on her back, but the stretching sounds this time made Jean especially proud as her already large breasts expanded. She had always had a bust size perfect for handfuls on each mound, but now she could feel her tits were growing, her nipples forced to rub against the rag's wet fabric.
Bigger and bigger they swelled, quickly becoming larger than her head each, reaching mouth-watering sizes of at least twice the size of her own head. By that time, Jean was holding them, or at least trying to, in her claws, squeezing them to experiment, moaning from the rubbing of her nipples on the fabric, the pressure she was exerting with her hands and of course their expansion.
As she relished on the changes, her eyes were seemingly too busy on her growing orbs to notice the thickening of her thighs, a necessary change as her hips widened to support the growth of her rump. Her buttocks were inflating like balloons, and she could feel it, but her knockers were taking up most of her attention. Her under-garments protested, not made to hold so much flesh, much less a growing butt. Eventually, she let out a scream of bliss as both sets of curves finally won in the pushing contest and practically tore her clothes apart.
A goddess in bodily shape, Jean noticed the swell of power intensify at that moment. She had to let go of her new tits only to hug her whole body as she felt the changes go from the tip of her clawed toes to her hair. Her skin hardened, became much paler, but also turned more beautiful as she seemed to have been sculpted from ivory now. Jean's skin had become much harder, yet to her the white skin was as soft as the finest silk. She felt beautiful, no, incredibly beautiful; but the changes did not stop.
Just as body suffered major physical alterations, her head was about to as well. Jean shut her eyes tightly and grinned again, the tingling sensation spreading all over her face. She moaned and giggled at the same time as her cheeks lifted all the while nose melted into her face, which was contorting into the shape of a triangular-tipped snout. Her grin became more devilish as she vibrated with power, her nose now only marked as twin line-slits at the sides of her pointy snout. Her teeth sharpened and grew, forming a fearsome yet particularly sexy wall of pearly white fangs. Jean's ears had melted into her skull now, and her up-until-now messy black hair had grown both in length and volume, the black having faded into a beautiful white that shone with a silver glow. The silver hair flowed straight down her shoulders and all the way to the base of her new tail, parting into two cascades of beautiful long hair at the fin on her back.
Finally, Jean felt the swell of power subside momentarily. She was grinning wider than ever, her fang-filled mouth would terrify anyone, yet also draw attention. Her arms, now slightly more muscular, threw themselves at her back to experiment with her longer, more beautiful hair. With each stroke her claws gave her mane, her massive boobs bounced and jiggled against each other. She walked around to test her new body.
Catching the reflection on the water and even the shining treasure, Jean managed to apprise all of herself in her full splendor and new-found beauty. It didn't matter to her that she didn't look human anymore. To her, this white-shark-like form was fitting. She was the kind of being that was both fearsome and beautiful at the same time, and that's exactly what she had vowed she would be from now on. Reaching down to feel the water with her paw she noticed the distance between the ground and herself had increased, and that put her into an even more content mood. Before she had been below six feet in height before, but she was now convinced that throughout her change just now she must have at least doubled that. She was now sure no one would be able to stop her.
She was happy. She felt powerful. Jean had been transformed. No longer human, yet the visage of being a female was clearly there, and in kind. When she finally opened her eyes she revealed two blood-red orbs with no irises. Her grin shrank and only the devious smile of a demoness remained. As she flexed and stretched, her eyes caught sight of the dead pirate by the edge of the cavern and then she remembered. Jean already knew exactly what to do with her new body.
About half a day later, back outside, the storm had finally subsided, and fortunately for Captain Locke he had lost no other crew mates; his ship was mostly undamaged. He wasn't in the mood for reports after having lost the only woman they'd managed to keep alive for over a week and on board. "Grr," the captain growled, "Can't enjoy this damn whisky, curse ye' Neptune," he blasphemed, hurling the scotch through the air, the bottle hitting the door hard before it opened slowly with a creak. "What?" he snarled at his 1st mate who seemed to have the look of a someone who had just seen a ghost. "Out with it, man!"
"C-Captain, there is something... uh..."
"What, more bad news? Something break apart?" Locke stood up, groaning in anticipation. The pirate at the door shook his head fast, obviously at a loss for words.
"Remember that weird shark that's been swimming next to the ship for a while?"
"What about it? You all lost your gall at a shark? We've seen dozens of them already! Shot a couple for fun too."
"That's just it, Cap'n. Hanz was trying to shoot it, but it evaded every shot, even the sure-fire ones... And then, uh... Y-you might want to come out to see for yourself!" he gasped.
Locke raised an eyebrow, then went to the door. Once his head peered out he was met by one of the most fantastical sights ever in all of his years as a man of the sea. There stood a creature not fish, not human, yet somehow at the same time it was both. Not only was he surprised by the form, but also its size and... proportions.
The captain walked out boldly as the creature's red eyes followed him. After a brief glance of its large breasts, he assumed 'she' was keeping an eye on him, thus he had to act fearless. Standing directly in front of the immense female shark, surrounded by all of his men, comprised of those that would fear her and those that were very short of pouncing her in excitement. She was just standing there, allowing them to look at her however they liked, her confident posture with her claws on the sides of her magnificent wide hips indicating she was sure as heck she could make them all dance around her little finger. Locke fixed his eyes on hers and glared.
She growled at him, lightly baring her super-sharp teeth, making him jump back in a startle. The female giggled at his reaction, obviously amusing herself with his suffering. He saw her drop her arms and slowly walk in his direction, those long feminine legs crossing in front of each other with every step, her insanely beautiful hips swaying sensually behind her for every man to see.
"Who are you, what do you want?" Locke snarled, although it wasn't convincingly threatening as it was difficult not to get distracted by her bouncing assets or the fact she was a giantess that could very easily rip his head off if she so chose to.
Finally, the shark stopped mere inches from the captain, bent over while giving the men behind a very nice sight of her peach-shaped rump, and rested her hands on her knees while grinning cheerfully at the pirate, "Afraid?" she playfully asked as she acted bashful while using a hand to move some of her hair away from her forehead, purposely shaking her chest to bounce her huge tits in front of the scared man's face. "Mmm, I hope you don't think I'm a product of your imagination, little man," she spoke in a sultry voice, then suddenly her hand reached for his crotch and squeezed painfully, eliciting a groan of mixed sharp pain and pleasure from Locke, "Because I'm very, verrrry real," she purred, giggling as he tried pounding on her forearm to have her let go. Her rough skin made him think otherwise however, as it felt like punching a row of jagged rock to him.
The shark licked her lips threateningly, the pointy tongue wriggling like a snake as she played with the man's mind.
"Let go..." Locke whimpered, feeling as if she was about to pop one of his testicles with that iron grip, "Let go!" he cried.
"Did you mean 'Please let go'?"
"Stop fucking with me, just let go, you're gonna castrate me!" the captain shouted.
"Ah ah ah... tsk tsk tsk..." she shook her head while mocking him. "Let's review things here, shall we?"
Suddenly, she let Locke go, only to grab him by the collar of his shirt and single-handedly pulled him up and off the ground, as high as her arm would take him. He kicked the air and attempted to grab her arm to push himself off but again found it hurt too much to attempt to damage her with his bare fists. "You worthless bastard, don't you learn your lesson the first time?" she laughed at him.
"Fuck you! Shoot her now!!" Locke barked at his men, only half of them were holding their rifles pointing at the shark woman. She looked back at them with a coy smirk and winked, and as if they were in a trance they all dropped the weapons and fell to their knees as she turned half-way, posing for the males with a profile view. They all had a hard on and were too much in awe to even remember what it was that they were doing there. "What... what have you done to them?! What have you done to my crew?!"
She turned her red eyes back to Locke and flashed him a cocky smirk, "Silly little man. Your crew? Don't make me laugh," she grinned, then suddenly slammed the captain against the floor of the deck in such a hard way that it broke and he fell to the floor below. He impacted against the floor below so hard that Locke coughed up blood when he groaned from the pain.
Before he had a chance to get up however, the shark woman had already followed him down through the very hole she had just made. She shrugged with a smile, "My... It seems I don't really know my strength. But I'm sure I don't need to worry about you, do I?"
With a big grin, the anthropomorph picked Locke up as if he was some sort of doll and suddenly gently cuddled him against her voluptuous chest, allowing his face to bury itself into her cleavage as she spoke to him in a condescending, sarcastic tone, "Mmmhmm, you're such a brave man of the sea. You can do anything as long as you've all your crew ready to shoot from afar, yes?" she mocked, "Oh. Forgive me, they're at my beck and call now, heehee." That giggle irritated Locke. Her laughter, his inability to fight back or even stop her... he felt truly helpless before this titaness!
"Shark got your tongue?" she smiled, picking Locke up by his hair as he screamed in pain, forcing his chin on her chest pillows, "Doesn't matter. You're a worthless man, Locke. You could've saved yourself all this trouble, you know?" she smiled wider, baring her fangs again, and then she slammed him fiercely against a crate column of supplies. Fruit and wine spilled all over as the man crashed through them.
"Ooongh! Ghhh..." Locke grunted and gagged, spitting out more blood as he held by his stomach. Coupled with the earlier smash, he just knew he had broken several ribs without to mention many other bones. "S-stop this... ahhh..." he whimpered, weak, "I'm dying... yer... yer going to kill me..." he looked up at the giant woman, her breasts bouncing delectably as she approached him, arms folded as she looked at his pleading eyes.
"Hmph, you're right," she admitted, "Killing you would be too easy, Locke. I want you to suffer... suffer for every life you've ruined over your selfish pirate game," she pulled him back up by the collar, this time with both claws, "Your ship, and your crew, they all belong to me. And you... you'll serve me, personally. You'll be my cute little pet," she smirked, "But don't worry, I'm not a cold-hearted person. I'll treat you well, like a mistress should its pet."
Locke couldn't respond, he was so damaged it was a miracle he was still alive after all that beating. And she had only thrown him twice! "D-do as you want..." he managed to say.
"Do as I want what?"
"..."
The shark grinned at him, Locke saw those bared fangs and quickly corrected himself: "...Mistress."
Finally, she dropped him cold on the floor, "Mm, oh. That won't do..." she looked down at him, "I almost forgot. You've no idea who I am, do you?"
"Ahh... h-how should I know...?"
"Rhetorical," she smirked, "From now on, it's Mistress Jean to you, little pet."
Locke's eyes widened and he looked up at her eyes. No... it couldn't be!
But before he could ask, Jean walked upstairs, having to bow down in order not to crash her head through the ceiling of their floor. He passed out.
As Jean emerged, she stretched her beautiful body upwards and inhaled deeply, her massive chest heaving up and then down when she exhaled. Jean looked to the side to see the worshipping eyes of the men she had charmed. With a smile, she walked up to them and looked down, hands again on her hips. "Dears, I'll need clothes. Oh... and heal your ex-captain before he bleeds to death on my ship."
All they needed to hear in order to comply was the snap of her fingers...
Jean looked over the horizon and a smile crept up on her lips. Now that she had done what she wanted, more ideas began to appear in her mind. With all of her power, she had just been granted the privilege, no, the very right to rule over the seas as its mistress. No one would stop her, and no one would dare to try either. After all, she had the body of a goddess and the heart of a power-hungry demoness...
The End.