FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

"Alright, settle down! Shut it!" Thomas called out, though the kids were hardly listening to a word he said. Thomas was almost on the verge of sweating at them, though thought better of it. After all, it wouldn't do to get fired. With all the jobs he had applied for this summer, this was the only decent thing he could have gotten, save for working down at the local gas station. It was one thing to have to spend the summer from university in this shit-ass town, but to don the uniform and be seen by former classmates, admitting what he felt was a defeat? Thomas wouldn't have it!

Not that there were an array of options to suit his talents in the village, a deadbeat sort of place where only the elderly and tourists came and went. He hated the place, lamenting the fact that only a nearby university could give him a reprieve. Though with funds lacking, he was forced to come home for the summer months, demeaning himself with the types of jobs chaperoning children's summer camps and the like. Thomas had thought it prudent to accept the summer job teaching kids, something so easy he could essentially fall asleep and let the kids doddle on drawings or other activities. To top it off, it was only a minimum wage position, hardly enough for them to afford their weekend booze. It was better than nothing but only just.

This particular summer camp was at a local Salmon Museum, a tourist spot along the Miramichi River. The river itself was world famous for salmon fly fishing, and thousands of visitors came to the small village and those like it for sports fishing and a variety of other outdoor activities. The museum itself was a testament to that in both sports fishing and the local wildlife. Displays of various rods, flies, and the live cycle of the fish themselves, as well as maintaining the diversity of river fauna were all on display. An outdoor area overlooking the scenic river view was often rented out for parties and weddings, and several summer camps were held for local children to learn about local animals at their own pace.

His friend Darren had much the same inclinations. He was the only friend who bothered to hang out with Thomas, with most of their former high school friends gone from their hometown and leaving them with few other options. They had gotten along well enough, bullies of a sort and having camaraderie against the smart and abused kids at school. Heading out of class to smoke and even drink on occasion brought fond memories, the two of them never being ones for the rules. Hell, they'd even been successful in a few petty thefts from local businesses, nothing major but little victories they had never been caught for.

It was Darren who had come up with the plan one drunken night, and Thomas agreed instantly, despite how bad of an idea his hung-over mind eventually found it. There was not a lot of money in the museum, of course, it being a tourist destination in a small village as such. But there was enough that it would not go noticed if they were to sneak in and rob them. A couple of hundred dollars misplaced, and without cameras, no one would be the wiser. They hoped that the other staff would think it a low-income day. They would not steal all the money but enough to buy a few 24-packs. That was all they wanted in the end. Hell, if the place paid them more for dealing with snot-nosed kids day in and out, they wouldn't feel the compulsion to steal in the first place!

It was an easy enough endeavor to wait until the kids were gone and the lights were off to sneak into the office and lockpick the door. Without the keys themselves, they would not be the suspects in such a crime, if one was even noticed. The perfect theft, all things considered. With goal in mind, they wrenched open the till, finding to their delight a sizable stash of cash, several hundred more than what was expected. Enough to fund their drinking escapades for the rest of the summer!

"Excuse me? Mr. teacher?" Came a child's voice, and both men looked over to see one of the students, Finn, looking at them with confused eyes. Why he was there, they couldn't say. All of the kids should have gone home by now. His parents must have been late or something, they figured. Of all the bad timing...would he rat them out? Or would he think it was normal for them to be in there, being staff members as they were?

"Yeah?" Thomas said, mind-wracking through the excuses he could try to come up with. He was just a kid, right? But then, what if he told on them for being in the office with the till? It was too late to back out now!

"Do you know when the museum will get in salmon eggs? I want to see them grow up!" He asked, and both men breathed a sigh of relief. He was just a stupid little nerd that wanted to know more about fish, the kind of kid they would have bullied in school.

"Yeah, it should be soon!" Darren said, bringing his fake enthusiasm to bare. Though anyone who knew him would think it was sarcasm, the kid ate it up.

"How soon? I want to see them now!" The kid said, seeming to be almost on the verge of tears.

"Well, if we could make some eggs to show you, we would!" Thomas said, the annoyance in his voice not lost. He didn't want to get pissed off at the kid, but damn, he was trying their patience!

"OK..." the kid replied, sounding dejected. If Thomas had a shred of empathy, he might have felt bad. But all he wanted to do was to get rid of him, convince him to meet his mommy, take their money, and get drunk. It was the weekend, after all, and they had earned it!

Yet, what they were not expecting was for the kid to keep staring at them as though with expectation. It was an eerie expression, like something out of a horror movie, as though the kid had some supernatural power. Hell, with that in mind, it seemed that his eyes were glowing, an eerie blue in the low light from the window. Almost as though...

Just as soon as the idea crossed their minds, the kid seemed to snap out of it, as though he had put himself in some sort of trance. "Ok, my mom's probably out there. Bye!" Finn said, turning around and heading out the door. Both men breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone, the sounds of the doors down the hall opening. With that, it was easy for them to take the cash, close everything up, and take off. And then they would be Scott-free, keeping their jobs and their creditability in the process!

Later that evening, his house empty for the night, Thomas and Darren were clinking their bottles together, celebrating their successful heist. There was no way to trace the absence of $500 from the till to them, so, they were free to get drunk, with no work in the morning and no other obligations. A brief reprieve from an otherwise shitty village and a shitty summer with little else to entertain them.

Though it was getting later in the day, the sun low over the treeline, Thomas was sweaty, skin soaked as much as the condensation on his bottle. Even with all the sweat over his skin, however, he still felt dry, as though the skin was cracking underneath. Playing it off as a trick of the mind, eventually, Thomas ended up scratching a dry patch over his arm, looking down and seeing the skin was a little off, reddish with an odd texture. Almost like...where had he felt that before? Must have been starting to get buzzed already!

"What was up with that weird kid?" Darren questioned, rubbing his skin in the same patches along his arm. Eventually, he started to rub his back as well, as though the irritation had spread all over. Thomas felt a little concerned but figured it had something to do with the air, dryer than usual in this dump of a town.

"Beats me," Thomas said, he, too, rubbing his back. More of that odd texture met his touch, and he was sure this time he had felt it before. But not on his own skin. It was almost as though he was touching...

"Fuck, must be sitting on something..." Darren moaned, getting up and rubbing the spot above his ass crack, where his tailbone should be. There was definitely a bump there, one larger than a bruise would elicit. As much as Thomas didn't want to look, he couldn't stop staring at the growth, seeming to get bigger before his eyes.

"What is it?" Darren asked, reaching back to rub at it. Both men jumped the moment his fingers touched it and it twitched, as though the thing was alive and a part of him. But what in the hell...?

With that, Thomas felt a corresponding lump in his own pants pressing against the chair and gasped, getting up and reaching back to touch what he knew was there already. He, too, had an odd swelling, one that twitched the moment he touched it. Almost like he had some kind of...but that was impossible, wasn't it?

"Fuck, mine too!" Thomas called out, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

"Pulls down your pants!" Darren said as if it was the most common reaction in the world.

"Fuck that!" Thomas called out but was already pulling down his pants, wanting to rub the protrusion and not caring that his friend was likely looking.

Yet, the moment his fingers touched it was the moment cold shivers ran through his being. He was definitely aware of the texture now, like the smooth scales of a fish. Like he had a fucking...but no, there was no fucking way...

To Thomas's terror, the thing he was touching seemed to still be growing, pressing against his hand and making him have to move it to make room. Thomas could almost feel a series of soft pops and cracks from the growth as it lengthened in real time. The more he focused on it, the more Thomas was aware he could move it back and forth just slightly as though it was a tail. A fish's tail, if the feeling of scales was any indication. How it was possible, he had no idea. But there was no denying the sight of it above his friend's ass as well. It really was a fish's tail twitching back and forth the more he watched!

Soon, the size of their tails seemed to reach down through their ass cracks, cheeks parting to make room. It was as though the tails were trying to reach the circumference of their bodies, far larger than an actual fish's tail but in proportion to their own bodies. Cold shivers ran through the two of them at the implication. Were they...turning into fish? How in the fuck...?!

The feeling of cool scales, something they were starting to become aware of on their skin, spread to their upper bodies, sending alarm through their forms. It only took another glance at each other's backs to see the scaled skin was slowly moving across them, skin reddening before peeling away for a silvery, unforgiving wave. The skin of former ass cheeks was soon coated, as well as the skin above their tailbones, a line above their spines toward the center.

A peculiar ache started from their spines in tandem, as though something was poking from under the skin. Reaching back, Thomas was greeted with a sensitive bump, one slowly swelling at his touch and moving upward to a point. A spine in its own right, it seemed to be sporting several spines of its own, ones that were being filled in with a line of thin webbing. Had the pair not been so involved with a children's summer camp, where they watched their charges doodling over images of salmon, it might have taken a few moments for them to realize that they were developing piscine dorsal fins.

"Dude, we have to get help!" Darren said, starting to run for his car. They were certainly buzzed by this point, not in shape to drive. But what other choice did they have than to sit in Thomas's yard and slowly turn into...fish!

Getting into the car was difficult with the growth of tails, so both bent over, hunched in the seats so as to not crush them with larger human bodies. Darren got the car going and took off, thankful for the late hour and lack of traffic. At least the cops shouldn't be out, though Thomas had no idea where their goal was. Part of him wanted to get help, but who the hell would they see about such a thing? At the very least, and the darker possibility, they needed to get to the river, especially if the changes were to continue to their obvious conclusion.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Thoams yelled out, feeling shivers running down his back. It seemed his back was being coated with the damnable scales, though he was afraid to keep rubbing them for fear the action might cause them to spread to his hands.

As though his thoughts were a catalyst to further change, a coolness in his hands drew Thomas's fingers downward to see a thin sheen of webbing between the fingers. The digits started to ache slightly, as though their joints and sinew were being robbed from him. In desperation, he tried to wriggle them, though, in a manner of a few minutes, it seemed he no longer possessed the ability to do so. Even his arms felt weak, as though holding them up was becoming a chore. He was changing, losing his hands, his way of interacting with the world!

Yet, worse than that was the realization the same changes would soon be encroaching on his friend, who was currently behind the wheel. It was only a ten-minute drive to the river, but at the rate his hands were changing, it seemed likely Darren's would soon go the same way. Thankfully, that did seem to be the case, though Darren was definitely smaller in the seat, clothes looking loose on him, exposing more silvery salmon scales. It was getting harder for him to hold the wheel, Thomas could tell, the same weakness playing over his form. But Darren was determined, driving with the insistence of a madman fighting for his life. And, given their changes and the implication they gave, the duo really were struggling just to survive!

An eternity later, the truck pulled into the familiar lawn of the Salmon Museum, somewhere Thomas did not want to be, though likely simple muscle memory from his friend. The moment Thomas's one hand opened the door, and he fell out on the lawn was the moment any feeling was lost in his other hand, the ability to move robbed from him. Darren, too, managed to get out, though it was likely his last chance to use his hands, they in the same state as Thomas's own.

Getting up was a precarious affair without functional arms, ones that were diminishing faster than the rest of their bodies, as though they had been crippled from some sort of injury. But they managed, running toward the building for a moment on legs that were concerningly wobbly. For a moment, Thomas considered making it to the door of the lodge but then thought better of it. There was no cure, no aid within, and no staff working the late Friday hour. Thus, come hell or high water, their only chance was to make it in the river to prevent desiccation and death should the changes meet their inevitable end. Were those really the only options available to them?!

It was obvious that clothes were larger on the two as though they were shrinking. Thomas could hardly keep his pants on and he didn't have any strength to hold them up any longer. Only his tail was keeping them up, but a simple reflexive twitch had them falling to the ground, leaving nothing to the imagination. Underwear barely stayed on for now, but given the spread of cool scales, there was little worry about maintaining their modesty. Shirts were billowing around them as well, and shoes were forfeit, kicked off so as not to trip over them.

Yet, trip they did, almost falling over each other in their panic and fear. Thomas hit the ground hard, hands not able to hold him up. There was little pain or scraping with his clothes in the way. The distance to the ground was shorter than he had expected, translating to about a foot lost in height. He was only a few inches from Darren, but he might as well have been miles away with their steadily shrinking bodies.

With some sense of desperation, Thomas tried to pull himself forward, but there was nothing he could do with his hands in their current state. The fingers were stiff, bony protrusions covered by a layer of slimy webbing. His arms, too, seemed to be weakened, the bones cracking within as they continued to dissolve away. He could barely move them, joints of shoulder sockets still present though shoulders were compressing into his torso. With the loss of functionality in his arms, Thomas desperately tried to move his feet as well, though, like his arms, his legs started to fail him. Toes no longer twitched if he tried to, and he was sure they were gaining the same webbing as his feet. It was soon worse, the anatomy no longer needed on his forms as the stumps of his feet were dragged forward beyond his socks. Thomas did not want to see them, scared of what they meant about his eventual fate.

Darren had some more luck, arms still slightly functional enough to pull at the grass. But soon the pops and cracks stiffened his digits to the point where they were immobile and then pulled backward with his arms as their range of motion became limited to the sockets of salmon fins. As his legs continued to contract back into his body as well, it was obvious the two of them could barely move, and they were only part of the way across the grassy lawn, nowhere near the potential life-saving water they needed to survive. Both were stuck, changing into aquatic creatures while trapped on land.

The relentless march of scales continued over their forms, playing over their bellies now and up the side of their torsos. All the hair on their body was loosening from its follicles, leaving them bare from the chest down. All the definition of Thomas's body, what he had worked on for years, was started to be worn down for the striated salmon muscle whose flavor was enjoyed by thousands that flocked to the village every year.

The more his compact body continued to weaken, the stronger his tail became, thin fins growing along the end of it and feeling odd trailing in the grass. With some awareness, Thomas found he could move it and gathered the muscles needed to push it. Though the effort was largely fruitless, the rest of his body was currently too heavy to move even with as powerful as his tail was becoming. The exertions only had him moving forward just a tiny bit, not nearly enough to make it toward the life-saving river beyond.

"Fuck! Thomas! Help! HELP!" Darren tried to call out, though his voice sounded altered, distorted from the change in stature. There was little to be done for it. Neither one of them was able to help the other, and both were stuck in place as their humanity was steadily robbed from them.

"Shit, what are we going to do!?" Thomas responded with desperation in his voice. Not that his friend had any better idea of what to do or how to get out of this curse. It had to be some kind of alcohol indicted nightmare, though the grass on their slimy, scaly bodies, the expanding clothing around them, and the dull ache of muscle and joints being removed from former limbs were all too real. No surreal imagining could replicate such experiences!

By this point, the efforts to move them toward the water left them to crawl out of their clothes, though it was hardly a determinant to their sensibilities, anatomies as altered as they were. No sooner did Thomas's penis and bare-skinned testicles hit the warm evening air than they started to retract into his body, leaving a bizarrely sensual sensation. Pressure started to build up, and it was as though he was about to orgasm from the force of it. And he did, cum escaped from his balls and emptied onto the ground as he winced from the pressure. No pleasure came with the release. Rather it was a forced sensation, making him moan from the strain. A similar sound came from his friend, though the two of them said nothing, obviously powerfully embarrassed by the uncontrolled action.

That was not to be the only thing to come from his body as another pressure built up, this time in his guts. Thomas had no control over his actions as his bowels and bladder emptied in tandem, filling his clothes with both solid and liquid waste. Control only returned after he had been emptied, his smaller body evidently needing to remove his waste as it changed. It was all he could do to get away from his mess. The scent of fecal matter rang in his nose, and he figured the same was happening to his friend. He didn't want to look but figured they were in similar dire straits. How much humiliation were they expected to suffer before the changes were done with them?!

Yet, it was about to get much, much worse. Anus clenching, Thomas could feel it moving, as though trying to seek his genitals. His penis seemed to have opened up, urethra clenching as it stretched impossibly wide. Foreskin, shaft, and all were pulled inside of him, making Thomas painfully aware that salmon possessed no external genitalia. And one singular opening, the one his anus and intestines were relocating to merge with. He would have vomited if he could, though the organs had, at least, thankfully already emptied themselves of waste. Soon, Thomas was left with a singular hole, testes pulled inside and rearranged into his internal anatomy as he continued to shrink and change.

It was then a strange sensation started to emanate from his loins, building from within and reforming into something Thomas could barely comprehend. Whatever was happening to him seemed to fill him with a bizarre sense of pleasure despite himself. Though nothing about the change should have invoked any enjoyment, a wave of arousal flowed over him, making him blush with the still human skin of his cheek. His loins were on fire, and a new pressure built from within, stranger than any before. He thought for a few moments that he might mess himself further, but that was not to be the case, the sensations opening him from the inside further than possible.

"Urrgg...what the fuck!?" Thomas managed to call out as something started to push at his insides, forming far more rapidly than what he perceived as possible, though nothing about the change was rational. He was left to stifle a series of moans as something started to push out of his new slit, making him powerfully aroused and confused in equal measure. It was like nothing he had ever felt before and was turning him on like it had no business to. Though without the ability to control it, Thomas was left looking down at what was happening to him and what it would mean for the rest of the changes going forward. And what he saw filled him with dread...

A slick squelching sound could be felt as something moist and mucus covered started to poke from his hole, sending orgasmic shivers through his very being. The forceful opening of his new vent was powerfully erotic, leaving him to shiver as a series of rounded orbs were expelled with little fanfare. So lost in his orgasmic reverence, Thomas barely noticed the orange orbs quivering with mucus he had discharged. He could only shake in reverence of the expulsion, needing it more than anything he had ever experienced.

"Dude...those are eggs! You're a chick!" Came Darren's cry, and Thomas opened his eyes to see that he had indeed expelled a small clutch of salmon eggs. There was no denying their state, having been intimately involved in teaching the students about the salmon of the Atlantic. There was no denying the orbs he was expelling were fish eggs, marking his gender as a biological female!

In terror, Thomas did everything he could to stop the process, though the arousal playing over his loins was beyond anything he could imagine. It was akin to fighting a torrent of water to the point where he could no longer resist the sensations. And a growing part of him no longer wanted to, feeling an intense satisfaction at the egg-laying act. It seemed to fulfill a primal need beyond anything the man had ever experienced. As though he had achieved it all, Thomas felt his mind white out, reveling in the pleasure wracking his loins as even more orange orbs passed sensually through his slit. At first, the sensations were powerfully confusing, turning him on to a level that surpassed his understanding. But there was no denying the effects of marking his stint as a female and making him love every moment!

"Ugghhh...fuck...I'm sorry...can't hold it!" Came Darren's cry, and looking over, Thomas was privy to the sight of Darren's fishy body spasming like his own. Only instead of more orange eggs, a spurt of sticky white cream was ejaculated in its place, obviously the equivalent of salmon cum. Part of Thomas felt he should have been disgusted by the notion, though an increasing part of his psyche was glad of it. A strong, virile male was fertilizing his eggs. They would grow and hatch the next generation as was the purpose of his short-lived species. No matter how much the two of them were disgusted by it.

By this point, scales had covered what were becoming relatively tubular bodies, leaving them bare of skin up to their heads. A popping sound echoed through their necks as they suddenly stiffed, leaving both future salmon to stare at each other in wide-eyed horror. The terror was only solidified as their eyes, too, lost the ability to blink, forced to look ahead as more semen was ejaculated on what was a growing pile of eggs left by Thomas's aching cloaca.

Worse was the sensation of their earholes diminishing as their cartilage was pulled inside. The holes left were minute, unable to pick up what were now silent screams as the two tried desperately to call out to each other. The only reprieve from their lack of vocal communication was the fact they could still see each other, bodies shrinking and writhing and trying desperately to flop in the direction of the river and freedom. Though as the moments passed, it became increasingly true that would not be the case, and they would perish before entering their necessary medium.

Though their changed necks lacked the vocal cords to cry out any longer, it was still jarring to feel their faces pressing outward, forming a blunt snout of sorts as teeth sank into the gumless jaws of their salmon maws. Thomas, even from his limited vantage, could tell this friend's jaw was now hooked, unlike his own straight and blunted one. Nostrils faded, still in front of faces though little in the way persisted of smell. Water was their preferred medium, after all, and the pair were so far from it...

There was one more change for their steadily shrinking bodies, one they knew was coming but feared all the same. Even as lungs collapsed and swim bladders filled with fluids, obvious indents formed on the sides of their necks that opened to the cool sensation of the wind. Yet, the moist, mucus-like sensation of their new gills slits became a detriment as air dried the skin and the slits began to ache. Even as they gasped their mouths in frustration, it was obvious they could no longer draw in breath. Only water passing through their gill slits would allow their blood the necessary oxygen intake, something they lacked access to. They had only minutes to survive, prolonged by the tingling of slimy scales spreading over their faces and the last remnants of hair falling away in the wind.

Even if it would take some time for them to perish, the two of them knew their time was up. Even now that efforts to flick their tails allowed them to flop helplessly, the fading sun they were forced to stare at through one eye told them nothing from the angle of shrinking salmon. There was no way to make it to the river now, no one to come and help them. The only reprieve was the ever-present pressure in Thomas's guts that forced more mucus-coated eggs through his slit, the tremors of pleasure making him forget only for a moment that he was not dying...

Yet, the sensation of something against his scales altered Thomas to being picked up, the world around him spinning from the change in perspective. The salmon instincts within him were sure he was being preyed upon, that some dog or bear or bird had gripped him and was taking him to his inevitable end. Better than drowning in the air, perhaps, but only just. Still, there was no pain, no digging into his flesh and signaling his end. The grip stayed firm, even as Thomas's salmon body wriggled insistently, trying to get away in piscine panic.

Though the sounds didn't make sense to his new holes, there was a series of vibrations coming from the being holding him he was sure were words. The firm grip, after all, could only come from hands, albeit ones that were not as massive as his fish body should have perceived. Still, the world rushed dizzyingly by, greens and blues and greys making him woozy until a white dome came to rest below him, and he was unceremoniously dropped in. Thankfully, the bucket, for that's what he assumed it to be, had water, blessed oxygenated water that flowed over his gills and started his lungs intaking oxygen again. Whatever had saved him placed him in a bucket, likely to be taken to the river to start his new life. A wanted outcome? Hardly. Though Thomas still didn't think it a fate worse than death, wanting to live if only for a modicum of that past pleasure once more.

Another massive fish-shaped object was placed in the bucket, one Thomas was sure had to be Darren. They had no way to communicate in these damnable fish bodies. But the sensation of scales against his own comforted him almost to the point he laid another clutch of eggs. Thomas was still relieved to know he and his friend would not die. They were being lifted, the bucket carrying them to a fate unknown, though one likely better than the death that awaited them.

Expecting to be taken to the river, the duo was shocked to be dropped into a body of water far too dark and dirty for the fast-flowing rivers of the Miramichi. It took him a few moments to come to terms with where he was as his fish body started to swim in panic at being in new surroundings. Once his nose hit some sort of barrier, the truth of their location came to the forefront of his awareness. He had been taken atop the roof of the building to be dropped into the fish tank of the Salmon Museum. Part of him wondered what was worse; a limited existence within the confines of a tank or the world at large where he would be subject to the whims of predators and the elements. Still, he had no choice in the matter and swam around, left to his fate in a tank full of others like himself.

Or, herself, Thomas was quick to realize with the pressure in his guts. Though he had expelled some eggs already, the ache was present in his loins, needing to eject the rest of her burden and spawn the way her new species was meant to do. Though part of her was relieved to recall that Atlantic salmon could survive the spawning experience, it was of little reprieve to know this would be her life now, and she needed to lay eggs like the female she had become.

There was little left to do but to follow her instincts and move to the bottom of the tank where a layer of dirt persisted. She was compelled to push at the dirt, creating a depression in the soil. The work was surprisingly taxing, especially with the energy she had expended already while fighting for her life. She was expected to dig until the hole was large enough for what she knew would make up her brood.

Hole dug to salmon specifications, Thomas allowed herself to rest at the bottom, feeling the pressure building past the tipping point. She would sigh if he could, though allowed her body to relax and violently push out a mucus-covered pile of eggs, larger than what she had managed in the open air. It was as though that primal part of her was well aware she needed water in order to fertilize those eggs, that it was the proper environment. That being the case, Thomas let loose with the entire load her ovaries had prepared, the pressure building beyond anything she was prepared for.

Though part of her had no way to tell which of the salmon in the tank with her was Darren, Thomas had a good idea that the one to move down and release his seed was her former human friend. Moving out of the way and hovering in the water, Thomas was privy to the sight of a cloud of off-white sperm descending over the clutch she had laid, hundreds by the time she was done. The potent semen Darren was planting over them would ensure they would be viable, the last act the two of them would ever perform together. Though it was an abhorrent situation, there was some level of companionship between them despite it all.

With that, Thomas let herself go. She was spent, exhausted beyond belief. Salmon instincts still persisted in her mind, and she was content to let them do as they would. For she no longer desired to be human and did not want to remember all she had lost and would never see again. It was far easier to sink into a salmon's existence, swimming back and forth in the tank until it was time for the reproductive pleasures to invade her loins once more...

******

The magic having died down, for now, Finn walked toward the lower viewing platform of the tank. He watched as the fish continued to spawn with the remnants of his spell. A part of him that wished to learn more about the salmon life cycle had triggered the changes, unknowingly activating his magical heritage. Things like this simply happened to him from time to time, and Finn really didn't understand what he had done. Perhaps someday when his family thought it prudent to teach him about his abilities, then Finn might realize he had taken the lives of two human men and would return them to their former existences before their salmon lives were forfeit. One could not tell the future for certain.

With that, he left, knowing that the eggs would someday hatch, and he could come back any time to watch their development. In Finn's mind, he was simply helping the museum showcase the life cycle of salmon. Part of him was aware that the two salmon were once his former instructors, but he thought nothing wrong with their change in life and perspective. After all, it was their job as teachers, right?