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Ghost can barely believe his eyes.
Twisting and writhing in the net of his seiner is a merfolk. A tuna mongrel if the striping and the body shape are anything to go by. All dazzling blue scales, different hues of green glittering where he’d expect a real tunas yellow stripes. The fins are a brilliant sea-green, most prominently a large fin on his back that looks less like a typical tuna’s dorsal fin and reminds Ghost more of the sailfish he and Price went catching one time. It’s dark brown hair is cut, mirroring the fin, the sides shaved short and leaving him it with a thin strip of a mohawk. Young with how small it is.
And bursting at the seams with eggs.
A tirade of angry chittering noises is launched at Ghost. Blue, inhuman eyes barely slits as the poor thing tries to stare him down from where he’s all tangled at his feet.
If it wasn’t for those eyes his upper body could pose for one of the lost boys wandering the docks that Ghost will take out for a fishing trip sometimes. Give them a days work and something more if they’re looking for it.
Without another moment’s hesitation Ghost gets to work. The mer had done a fine job if getting himself wrapped, but he’s not about to risk a whack from that powerful tail. So he grabs more netting and makes a dash at the tail.
The mer is small for the size his kind can reach. Just a bit longer than Ghost is tall and merfolk keep growing well into their thirties so he must not be done yet.
That would explain how Ghost got so lucky. Young and in pain from being overfull of eggs the poor thing had gotten too close to the surface, suddenly caught in a net it should have seen coming. Considering it’s the end of September and mating season starts in June its no surprised his catch has reached the end of it’s strength too. It groans, pained as Ghost sits his weight down on it’s lower abdomen while he ties the tail. He’s quick about it, efficient, until he’s positive there is no chance for the mer to struggle free. No chance for tearing, the fibre in the netting is mixed with a metal mesh to keep big catches like contained. And apart from that, it’s arms are well and truly restrained from all the flopping around it did, caught in the heavy main net.
So Ghost takes his time now, hooking his catch up to the small crane, pulling him up until he’s hanging there, upside down. Like he’s ready to be gutted.
That would be illegal of course. Merfolk are under strict protections. And besides, while a few rich bastards swear on the taste there is something the privileged crave even more and his poor haul has plenty of that to give. Ghost decides that if he gets enough caviar out of the mer to retire, he’ll be kind and throw him back into the sea instead of also selling his parts off.
It’s less kindness than practicality. The black market for mer caviar is a busy one and he’ll be able to turn his catch into a profit without much hassle. Their meat is a different matter entirely.
He leaves the cursing thing to struggle against gravity a little longer, while he gets a suitable container ready. Fills a tub with some ice he and then puts in a tarp to make sure the eggs will stay cool but won’t freeze.
The mer flashes his fins at him in a threat display best as he can and tries to free himself. Or itself. Whatever gender things mers having going on Ghost doesn't know. It's got eggs but no tits like the females usually do. Face looks male to Ghost if he was asked, even got a good bit of a stubble.
Not like it matters. Of everything he's planning to do to the poor bastard, calling him the wrong gender is going to be the smallest offence.
The mer might not even understand him either. Not all of them know a human language. And even if he does understand english specifically all he'll be able to do is keep chittering and screeching. His throat isn't made for human sounds, his voice designed to work underwater.
That is why Price taught his pet mer some sign language. Because he's a sick bastard and wanted to make sure he knew the poor thing was crying for him to stop when he fucked it, if Ghost had to guess.
Ghost is a sick bastard too though and he does want to know if the poor fella will understand what he's about to do.
“You understand English lad?” he asks when the mer has to pause his chittering to gasp for breath.
They can breathe air, but it's ineffective feeling for them and his catch has been expanding rather a lot of it.
He makes an indignant noise now. Could be offended that Ghost is doubting that he can understand. Could just be angry at him vocalising.
Ghost likes to think he understands him.
“Gonna help you with that little egg problem off yours.” he pats it’s gravid stomach for emphasis and the mer hisses at him. Cute.
The mer's slit sits low on his abdomen, where the scales have taken over. Lower than Ghost figures would be equivalent on a human, but it’s hard to tell. It should be discrete, almost invisible. But the poor thing really is stuffed. Should, by all accounts already have spawned the eggs even without a mate. So it’s slit is puffy and swollen, signalling just how bad his little catch needs to get fucked.
Either he's too young or too stupid to realise the eggs will kill him if he doesn't get rid of them in time or his body is so egg-bound by now that he can't.
Either way he's doing him a favour as he lets his hand trail over the slit with feather soft touches.
The mer gasps, then catches himself and starts screeching at him in outrage.
All for show with the amount of slick that is pooling out within seconds.
“Gonna get all those eggs out and sell them for people to eat.” he keeps his voice soft and teasing ignoring the angry noises from below.
“You're probably gonna cream yourself about it too, slut that you are.”
The sound the mer makes as Ghost finally lets his finger slip into the slit is ear piercing. Outraged and afraid at the violation.
Ghost can feel his cock twitch in interest.
He could tell himself that it’s just the surprising, feverish warmth of the hole he slipped his finger in, but he knows that would be a lie. Had he spent less time at war and at sea he might be ashamed. Or at least feel a hint of guilt. But there is none.
Instead he slips in a second finger. For the first time the noises change to something human-like as the sweet thing whimpers for him.
Must realise now how alone he is, out of the water, tied up and dangling upside down on a boat miles and miles from the shore. No one around but Ghost.
“Now you get it sweetheart.” he growls, licking his lips like he can get a taste of that delicious anguish.
He spreads those two fingers apart in the slit and is rewarded with the hottest thing he’s seen in a while. The flesh has the same green-bluish hue as his scales there. At what would be the top if the lad was the right way around sits a little surprise. Now if Ghost remembers his sex education from decades ago correctly the clitoris isn't supposed to be in the hole but outside of it. Then he’s never fucked a woman and he’s not exactly working with a human here.
“Looks like you’ve got a little cock hidden away after all.” Ghost croons because that is what it looks like and he’s more fascinated than he’d admit. It’s small, maybe eight-ish centimetres as it’s straining all proud. Tempting Ghost, especially considering he knows how to work a cock, actually has experience with that, compared to his shortcomings concerning anything resembling female anatomy.
When he brushes his thumb over the bright green cocklet it squirms and splits. With an eyebrow raised Ghost learns in closer. Turns out it’s not one small cock like he thought, but three small tentacle like things, wound tightly around each other. The little heads, the size of Ghost’s thumb each are bulbous and taper to the base. They’re translucent too he realises, he can make out the vague colour and outline of his own fingers on the other side. Just barely and discoloured by the green of the appendages.
Certainly doesn’t bring him any closer to solving the mystery of the mers gender.
Instead of worrying much about it he blows on them and they squirm, clearly sensitive if the choked off noise the mer makes is anything to go by.
Very fucking intriguing and if didn’t have another objective right now he’d see how long he needed to play with them until he could make the mer cry. Wonders how they’d behave if he tried to suck on them.
Well, there’ll be plenty of time after he secures his retirement.
Ghost focuses on the real prize again and digs his fingers further into the hole until he suddenly feels the faintest hint of resistance. Some sort of membrane blocking his way.
“Fuck, you a virgin sweetheart?”
He’s met with those unnaturally blue eyes staring at him. Even if he does speaks he probably doesn’t understand the sentiment. Well, no matter, he will in a second.
Ghost can see the moment the mer realises what he is intending to do as he gently pushes against the slight resistance. Suddenly full on thrashing again. Trying to build the momentum to swing away from him, like he’s got any chance to escape. Ironically he ends up doing the work for Ghost with that, drives himself right onto his fingers.
The resistance gives and the mer wails. Stops swinging, desperately trying to curl in on himself. But the tug net is big and heavy. Too heavy even for someone with such a strong core.
And Ghost’s fingers immediately meet something squishy.
“You’re bloody backed up right to the entrance.” he curses “Christ, no wonder you’ve been suffering.”
The mer doesn’t answer, it’s abs still working like somehow it’ll manage to roll in on himself. Doing nothing but working for Ghost. Now that there is no hymen in the way the motion starts pushing the eggs out like the mer is having contractions. Ghost grabs one of his buckets with his free hand and just spreads the mer’s slit wide with his other hand.
Not a second too late, as cyan coloured, squishy roe starts spilling forth. To his feet Ghost hears a startled, pained moan and he can see the little tentacles writhe as one by one the eggs press through the tight hole. Each egg a little smaller than a chicken’s if Ghost had to guess but not by much. Like a young hen’s first clutch. He cannot afford to ponder if the mer’s eggs will also grow, should he get more used to laying. Each of those eggs is worth more than a days catch and he won’t waste a single one if he can help it. Certainly not because he is thinking with his cock, which is already hard just from the sight of that tight hole straining around each egg. Struggling before releasing it. The next one already pressing up behind.
At least they aren’t as delicate as chicken eggs, slightly gelatinous and more likely to bounce than to break. Only reason Ghost dares to use a bucket for this instead of meticulously picking each one up.
Probably he wouldn’t even be fast enough. It’s like the lads brief struggle opened a floodgate that he can’t close again. He’s panting where his head is resting just barely on the deck. It’s not just trying to get in air if Ghost had to guess, not with the way his little cocks wind and unwind from another, shivering all the while.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ghost doesn’t really expect an answer but he takes the little mewl he gets as a sign to go ahead.
Fingering a merfolk was the last thing he expected to do today but as he digs around in the tight hole, helping to coax out the eggs he can’t help but count his blessings.
Ghost spreads his cunt just a little further and the eggs start coming faster. The sticky slick that coats them making them glide over the little cocks and drop from edge of his slit into the rapidly filling bucket.
The sight of them pushing out of that teal coloured passage is driving him insane. Any pretence Ghost was holding on to about not fucking the mer once they’re done here is vanishing at about the same pace as the eggs get squeezed out.
With the first bucket full he draws out his fingers and waits a second to see if the flood will continue. The mer makes a new distressed noise as suddenly an egg is pressing against it’s cunt but not just slipping free. Meeting his eyes, Ghost can tell he’s dazed and confused.
All the better, no need for him to start acting up as Ghost hurries to draw the big tub near, depositing the eggs into it so they can go right into refrigeration as soon as he’s done.
When he steps back the mer makes a questioning noise. His hole still straining against the same egg, having made no visible progress at all.
“You have to push sweetheart.” Ghost tells him, mildly intrigued to see if the lad will figure it out for himself. He gets some seemingly annoyed back chatter for that but even though the mer’s core is working overtime his hole refuses the release the egg half lodged into it.
There’s tears gathering in the mer’s face as Ghost lets him struggle for a few minutes, his noises turning from confused to desperate.
“No wonder you ended up so fat with them. Little hole is too tight even for your own eggs, isn’t it?”
The mer chatters at him again, no longer annoyed but almost pleading Ghost thinks.
He wants to be a bastard about it, wants to let the poor thing dangle here until he figures out how to squeeze his own eggs out for him, no matter how long it might take. And it would take a while, considering he’s struggling so hard even with the stretching Ghost provided him. The effects of which probably wouldn’t last forever.
But he hasn’t forgotten why he is doing this in the first place and there is plenty of opportunity to torture the mer while also actively making a profit from it. He slips in a single finger again. Immediately silencing the desperate cries.
Ghost curses, his cock throbs insistently and he can’t help but let his finger trail down where he knows it’s little cocks are hidden.
The little whimper the lad lets out when he brushes along them almost does him in. He pushes his thumb in with the other finger and starts his best approximation of stroking. Catching as many as he can in a motion as the little things start wriggling desperately.
The mer has gone completely silent, staring at him wide-eyed, mouth open. A faint blue blush painting his cheeks as he’s gasping for air noiselessly.
When he feels him starting to tremble Ghost has enough situational awareness to get the bucket up and ready just in time to catch the eggs being shot out off the hole with the mer’s orgasm.
It cries a single note, pure and beautiful and it’s little cocks wind around Ghost’s fingers with surprising strength, leaking milky white.
There is no time to give into the impulse to lick his hand clean as Ghost strokes the lad through his orgasm and makes sure all the eggs are going into the bucket.
He only stops, long after the poor thing has started complaining again, when the bucket is full. Granting it’s little cocks, that have actively tried to start evading him, a short break.
They keep going like this. Ghost alternating between teasing and spreading it’s holes and abusing the small tentacle cocks. He stops counting the times he makes the poor thing come at some point. Not like he can go about bragging to anyone but Price anyway.
The mer goes from sobbing, to moaning to silent tremors. His face covered in tears and snot and probably some of his own juices that have run down his torso by now. A lovely overstimulated mess, twitching like he can get away from Ghost at the faintest brush of a touch anywhere near his sweet little cunt.
Ghost is just experimentally tugging on one of the little pricks when the mer convulses bodily and passes out. Eyes still open but rolled back, staring into the void, chest still heaving for breath. The seemingly endless flow of eggs comes to a stutter and then to a halt.
“Shit.” Ghost laughs to himself, looking at the utter debauchery of the scene in front of him. The mer’s abdomen is covered in it’s own slick. It’s slit is gaping open, the little cocks haven’t so much deflated as just stopped holding themselves up, sprawled out of the slit now that Ghost has left off of them but twitching irregularly with the sheer overstimulation. The once bulging stomach has gone down somewhat. Giving Ghost a hint at the streamlined form the eggs had ruined.
Speaking off the eggs. The tub is half full of mer roe and Ghost is fucking rich.
That calls for celebration.
With the rest of the bucket safely put away he lowers the rope the mer is dangling from gently, until the lad is laid all out on deck for him. He keeps just the slightest tension, still not in any way inclined to get whacked with that tail. He shucks his clothes off, having to peel his cock out of his boxers, sodden with how bad he’s been leaking through all of that. Only keeps his shoes on, needing every bit of grip he can get on the deck. It’s slippery on a good day and today there is a solid layer of mer slick adding to the danger.
That massive fin on the lad’s back folds surprisingly well to the side, which Ghost is glad for. If he’s not selling of parts he’s not gonna break him before dumping him back in. He’s a massive bastard but he can make some exceptions. Especially for such a handsome creature.
He finally straddles the lad and let’s his weeping cock drag across the smooth scales around the slit. It feels amazing. Better than amazing. He has to stop immediately. Doesn’t want to waste his load outside.
Might be selfish but he wants the mer awake when he fucks him. Wants to see his face and hear his little noises.
So he staves himself off until there’s a hint of consciousness returning. A slight flutter of the eyelids. Makes him look almost human.
He’s really good looking, Ghost catches himself thinking, wondering why the mer had failed to secure a mate with a face like that. Lovely pouting lips and strong features. The hairstyle is a choice, but he supposes it suits him in a way, works with that fin of his. He’s built too. Ghost can see without problem where his body must be quite well defined when it’s not bloated out by eggs. Young and fit like that he should have found a mate without an issue instead of ending up on Ghost’s seiner all alone.
With a groan the mer’s eyes open again, taking any hint of humanity with them as their unnaturally bright blue finds Ghost.
“Time to properly lose your virginity lad.” Ghost smiles and draws his attention to where his full cock is resting. He can see the moment the mer realises what’s about to happen. He starts chittering again, clearly alarmed, trying to free his arms from the net where they are still restrained.
“You should be thankful,” he lines himself up with the hole “That hole clearly needs some stretching or you’ll end up on another boat next year.”
Selfishly, despite knowing he is large, not beginner size at all, no matter the species, Ghost pushes in with a single thrust. Tight, wet heat splitting suddenly around his cock.
The mer wails. Throws his head back against the hard plank with the pain of Ghost carving out space in him. The noise ear-splitting high and Ghost has to clamp a hand over his mouth to avoid going deaf with it.
The little cunt is squeezing Ghost so hard he almost passes out as it’s ineffectively trying to stop him. Maybe if this was a drier affair, if the mer hadn’t already come his brains out repeatedly, it would stop Ghost from seating himself balls deep with that one magnificent thrust.
Instead he bottoms out. The sensation so overwhelming he ends up half collapsing on the lads chest.
They are both catching their breath for a moment before he dares pulling it back. The mer is silently sobbing now. Still hysteric but no longer threatening to take out his ear drums.
“Fuck. See? You’re so fucking tight. Can’t be good for you.” Ghost groans, justifying himself even as he starts building a rhythm, “Need to be broken in.”
The mer’s mouth opens, this close his sharp teeth are visibly on display. He makes some wet garbled noises that Ghost doubts resemble any kind of speech even below water.
“Told you you’d cream yourself about it, didn’t I? Now everyone can hear how fucking wet you are for this. For me.”
The day is still, overcast but not overly windy so the sea lies quiet. The only noise apart from the quiet licking of the waves on the sides of the boat are the filthy, wet slaps as flesh meets flesh. Then another slurred moan escapes the mer and he grows tighter yet again around Ghost.
“So easy to please sweetheart,” Ghost laughs, fighting to stave off his own orgasm, “Gonna ruin you for everyone else.”
He has to actively work for it now, to keep that rhythm going. If he didn’t he’d spill within a few thrusts.
Not that he’s got anything to prove, he’s not trying to win the lad over as a lover and by the rate things are going he’s got nothing to compare this to anyway.
It’s mostly for his enjoyment that he tries to hold back as long as he can, thrusts growing rougher as the mer’s cunt learns to give way for him. Holding on to his abdomen in lieu of legs to fold over and pushing deeper and deeper as his motions grow less controlled and more brutish.
“Doing so well for me.” Ghost grunts, those incredible blue eyes are hazy from how fucked out the poor thing is, “Let me stuff you back up.”
It’s his own words that seal the deal. The idea of fucking the poor mer so full his stomach gets bloated worse than it was when they met.
The mer lets out another shattered cry as he comes again, strong muscles convulsing as he just gets impossibly wetter, his little cocks spilling what little they have left to give.
Ghost is dragged over the edge with him thrusting in deep as he can. The tip of his cock meets something firm but squishy and when his brain catches up that there must be more eggs in there, what might have been a few more good thrusts is ruined as he spills himself with stuttering motions and a dark moan deep inside the mer.
Coating the eggs like they should have been months ago by a member of their own species if they were to ever have a chance of sparking new life.
The mer’s strong core continues to clench around him, milking him and pressing the eggs up against his softening cock. Trying so hard to get fertilised.
If Ghost was a few years younger he wouldn’t need to pull out, he’d go straight for another round from that realisation alone.
Luckily for the mer he isn’t. The poor thing looks like he’s going to pass out on him again any moment now.
It looks, if possible more debauched than he did earlier. Lying there, fucked out and sloppy. Face covered in tears, spit and snot from all it’s crying. It’s hole, dripping with his load and gaping even wider. Clenching around nothing now that Ghost’s cock has left it’s imprint.
“Can’t believe you thought you could hide some eggs from me sweet thing.” he growls.
The mer makes a weak mewling sound. Must be exhausted by now.
He could have his break while Ghost figured out how to best get to those remaining eggs of his. Even with the strong muscles working overtime it hadn’t been enough to push them out. Ghost had likened them to contractions and he realised that this is where he’d been wrong. Whatever weird and mythical mix of fish and human the lad had going on, he might not have a uterus. Maybe had a skein? Or some sort of organ that took up the majority of his abdomen, both the fish and human parts. Something that was able to store eggs. Probably not a direct match to what Ghost knows from salmon but a much more efficient solution for his particular biology. But with the eggs so far spread squeezing the muscle would be ineffective. It might be possible but would take a long time until he’d worked them all out that way. And with the mer exhausted like he was it might take even longer.
The alternative was getting in there himself and getting them out. Or gutting the boy after all.
“Gonna give you a fair chance to let me get them out without taking all your organs with me as well yeah?” he grunts, wondering again if the lad understood a single word of what he was saying or if he was just making noises based on Ghost’s tone.
The next step was bound to get messy, one way or another. So he puts the chest waders back on, not bothering with the rest of it. No need for modesty when the only witnesses might be some gulls.
In a fit of inspiration he decides to pull the mer back up a little with the crane. The position is awkward for him, tail and torso pulled in the air with his weight resting on his shoulders. It’ll give him a good view of the scene unfolding if nothing else.
“Day of many firsts for you sweetheart.”
He lets his fingers run over the slit again, so very puffy from the rough fuck. About to look much worse.
The mer’s response is a questioning chitter. I thought we were done? Or some sentiment like that. Only they’ve just started, now that Ghost knows there is more to get.
He slips three fingers into the hole, easy now that he’s relaxed it. Starts stretching them apart working the muscle even more loose.
It would be more efficient to go straight in, but it is more fun to watch the poor thing get worked up again.
He slips in a fourth a few thrusts after. Really starting to stretch him. Seems to do something for the poor thing because he can’t keep quiet. A constant flow of vocalisation escaping him. Chitters and moans, like he’s trying to talk Ghost out of it but just can’t help himself with the stimulation.
“Should be happy I fucked you that well. Got you all wet and dripping.”
And he was, Ghost had briefly considered getting the lube he kept amongst his things in a small locker at the helm. Had no intention of turning this into a bloody mess unless he brought a knife out specifically to make it so. But there is no need yet. Slick is pouring from that greedy little cunt eagerly. As if to invite him to make his way further in.
An invitation he takes to heart. Tucking his thumb in and pushing his whole hand in. The mer’s hole is searing hot and wet inside and so tight it feels like his bones are about to be crushed.
It is a fucking revelation, feeling the way he takes up all that space. Like he owns him from the inside out. He gently spreads his fingers ever so slightly apart and the mer’s punched out gasp in response is music to his ears.
“Your cunt must feel so fucking full right now. Finally got some eggs out and now there’s my hand.” he can’t hide the pleased tone. That possessive feeling mixing with his own need makes him feel almost dizzy. He wishes he could spend hours just with his hand in here, wringing soft gasps out of the sweet thing.
Gathering his senses Ghost swallows and starts ever so gently to push his arm further into the mer. Watching mesmerised as the motion churns out more slick and his own cum.
“Fuck, I’m so deep inside of you lad.” he groans.
Can see the mer staring at his hole, at Ghost’s wrist vanishing inside it.
His dick has forgotten all about his age and the head is rubbing against the inside of his waders leaving them sticky with precum.
The mer only makes a miserable hiccuping noise in response.
“Hush you.” Ghost scolds him, pressing in a little further. Making sure he knows they are far from done.
The mer seems to get the message, or maybe it is beyond speech as Ghost’s fingers meet the egg that he’d bumped into earlier.
“Now we’ll get to the fun part love.” he croons and starts really spreading his fingers apart. He goes slowly, not wanting to push the eggs further out of his grasp. The mer’s body does it’s best to resist and keep crushing him at first, but with a little patience the muscle starts to loosen. It’s face at this point wearing the most fucked out expression Ghost has ever seen on anyone, human or mer. It’s blue tongue poking out of the corner of it’s mouth. Panting like a fucking dog.
It’s oddly charming. And Ghost feels a pang of possessiveness in his chest. Hoping selfishly that he’ll be the only one ever seeing him like this.
“Might just fucking keep you if you keep looking like that lad. Better be careful.”
The words are meant as idle dirty talk, more riling himself up at this point than really hoping to convey a message. Even if the mer had understood english to begin with, Ghost wasn’t sure he had the capacity to with his hand wrist-deep in his hole. But even as he says them he feels them take root in his brain.
He shakes his head, he can daydream about that later. Right now he has eggs to retrieve.
Ever so carefully he pushes in further, scooping for the egg.
Only when he’s pushed a few of them past and down he widens his fingers again, so they can slip past him and starts guiding them out with gentle pressure. It works much better than he’d expected at first, the mer’s body more forgiving on the way out, than in clearly.
He catches the eggs in the bucket as one by one they are pushed out and secures them, before letting his hand sink back in.
It is slow, maddening craft. The mer makes him fight for every centimetre and every egg. Convulsing around him with weak, blubbery orgasms again and again. Threatening to actually crush his hand until the tremors subside and Ghost can make more progress. It’s worth it though, as he slowly guides out more and more eggs.
After a while the mer has gone basically slack, taking shallow hectic breaths but no energy to make a big production out of it anymore.
Ghost is working his hand into him again, displacing slick and cum as he goes deeper in his search for eggs. Suddenly he realises he can see the motion through the mer’s stomach. He spreads his fingers experimentally and groans when he confirms that he can see his own hand bulging out the poor things stomach.
“Look at that sweetheart.” he repeats the motion a few more times for good measure. When he manages to tear his eyes away from the scene he can see the mer’s disbelieving gaze fixed to it too. It whimpers, the noise small and needy.
“You should be fucking made for this shouldn’t you? But here you are. Needing my help getting all those pesky eggs out so they don’t hurt you anymore?
He keeps flexing his hand. Can’t help himself. The view is mesmerising, only added to by the soft little groans that tell him he is about to force yet another orgasm out of the poor thing. The little cocklets still strain, curl and uncurl and shudder with the stimulation even though the movements had become weaker and twitchier.
“Taking me so well.” he murmurs not taking his eyes from the scene. Keeps moving his hand until the mer’s cunt squeezes his arm in desperation and his eyes slip shut with a little garbled trill. Only then can he tear himself from it and resume his hunt for more eggs.
Elbow deep into the mer, his prick rubbing itself raw against his waders he can’t help but wish he’d listened more to Price’s ramblings about merfolk.
Increasingly both finding and reaching them becomes harder. He doesn’t quite know how far up into the human torso, or further down into the fishy midsection and tail the skein-like organ might go. Has to rely on pressing against the mer’s flesh from the outside, trying to find clusters of lumps that seemed to be a good indicator for more. The old bastard was fucking obsessed with mers. No doubt he would know without a doubt how to locate those the rest of those eggs and how to squeeze them out.
Not that being elbow deep in the lad was much of a hardship, but he’d rather have his prick in his free hand. Or his phone to film it for some lonely nights. Instead he takes a good long moment to commit the sight to memory. That lean body, the stomach bulged out obscenely from his hand and the massive clutch he’s carrying. A contradiction to how he is hydrodynamics made flesh in every other way. The slack face, unnaturally blue eyes glazed over, looking fucked out and exhausted. The small rhythmic chirp that escapes him with every breath like he is begging for a break or for mercy. And then on top of it all the heat of the lads body that wants to suck him in. Seems to crush and caress him at the same time.
People getting those armbands tattooed that symbolised how far they had showed their arm up in someone else had never made much sense to Ghost. But right that moment they do. It seems like getting one done when they were finished here would only be appropriate. Maybe try and match the blue of the mer’s hole all stretched out like this, drained of some of it’s deeper colour. Feels only right to etch the experience into his body, it will certainly leave a mark on the mer.
“Only a few left now, would be easier if you tried to push them out love.”
The mer makes a clipped noise being spoken to, but no noticeable effort to help.
There is an easy way to get to the rest of them. The knife tucked away into Ghost’s pants is a simple reach over away.
He pushes his arm in deeper, succeeding in fishing out another two eggs that have been evading him.
He’s in to his bicep now. Getting to the point where it doesn’t much matter if he cuts him with the knife or tears the tissue with his arm.
Only he can probably cut the eggs out without killing it. Long as he stays in the upper tissue layers and doesn’t slip into anything important. Which he has no idea where anything important is.
It shouldn’t matter anyway. If he slips he can sell the the cuts of meat for good chunk as well.
Only the idea has his stomach turn a surprising amount for a man who has killed plenty of his own kind without a hint of regret.
Probably shouldn’t have fucked him. Now he was getting all sentimental like Price. Didn’t help how good of a fuck it had been. Probably one of the best of his life.
“Stay here lad.” he growls, pulling his arm out.
The poor thing just makes an “oof” noise but Ghost can’t really appreciate that nor the wet little “pop” of his hand emerging from it’s cunt. He’s too annoyed with the mer and himself.
Heads to his locker at helm after all, digging out the satellite phone he keeps there for emergencies. Hell of an emergency this was. With an IFAK clamped under his arm he punches in the number he knows by heart. While he’s waiting for the old bastard to pick up he wonders how honest he should be about the whole mess. Price wasn’t going to call the authorities on him. Not with his own personal sexslave mer in the big tank that made for the centrepiece of his house.
But he might want a cut for his help.
“Simon.”
“Jonathan.”
Price grunts. Can tell from the tone of Ghost’s voice that he isn’t in any deep shit.
“What do you need son?”
Ghost sighs. Knows he’s going to be honest about it. Wouldn’t make sense to leave out info when he’s trying not to gut the poor thing.
“How do I get those last few bastards eggs out of a mer?” he not going to offer to slice the lad open as a first resort. Not when Price with all his misguided interest might know a better way.
There is a moment of stunned silence until Price barks a laugh.
“That entirely depends on what kind you managed to haul yourself.”
“Looks like a tuna and a sailfish had a good time from the waist down. Very blue.”
Here is to hoping Price can work with that, because Ghost didn’t splurge on a satellite phone with a camera. Hadn’t been able to imagine a possible reason he might need one.
“Some sort of ray-finned variant then.” the captain muses and Ghost just grunts like he has any idea.
He lets Price mull it over, chewing his own tongue all the while. Hard not to feel stupid when he’s standing there in nothing but his waders and suspects he knows the answer already.
“You could just gut it.” Price says like Ghost knew he would. Testing him.
“Thanks Captain. Hadn’t even considered it.”
The bastard laughs again. Got just what he wanted out of that Ghost assumes.
“Well you’ll have to cut it open either way. It’s that or you miss out on the money and it’ll die a slow death from sepsis if they remain stuck in there. Which they will with the rest already taken out.”
Ghost sighs again. Had feared Price would say something like that.
“Can always bring it back to port if you need help. I’d make it there in a few hours.”
He stiffens. Price knows his mer anatomy. Would probably be better suited to the job. But he’d also see what Ghost had already done. Probably take a few liberties himself. Or a few organs depending which mood struck him. It might ensure the lads survival, but it would by no means be the less cruel option.
“I’d rather get this over with and dump it back in. Don’t want to get caught.” the excuse sounds lame in his own mouth. Like the two of them couldn’t easily best some police. Like Price won’t know there is some other reason. “Just walk me through it.”
It takes them a solid fifteen minutes to talk through the details until Ghost feels confident enough to continue. He promises Price he’ll call back later, no matter the outcome.
At least his former captain hasn’t tried to convince him not go for it. Not that Ghost hadn’t heard it in his voice anyway.
When he steps back on the deck the mer is still where he’d left him. Had wiggled a bit more, sitting slightly displaced, whether to get free or to comfortable Ghost really doesn’t care. He still looks like he’s been put through the wringer. His eyes only barely focusing on Ghost.
“Alright love, we’re gonna get to the part you might not enjoy now.”
The mer makes a croaking noise. His vocal chords, not made for land anyway entirely wrecked at this point.
Ghost fishes his knife out of his pants. He has decided drawing the mer back up with the crane will probably be for the best. That brings some life back into his catch wiggling with what little strength he has left trying to free himself.
“We’ve been there love, that’s not going to help you any.”
The mer chirps a sad noise as he comes to much the same realisation. But he keeps the struggle up for good effort.
“Are you all done yet? Because when I start cutting you’ll want to hold still.”
To emphasise his words he pulls out his knife. It’s a fishing knife, the blade long and thin. And by virtue of being Ghost’s it’s wicked sharp and painted black. Just in case any of the lads at the harbour ever got ideas and forgot that he hadn’t always been a fisher.
The mer, spotting the blade trills an alarmed note and quickly starts rambling in a reassuring tone, not quite able to hide the edge of panic beneath.
Ghost has heard many people begging for their lives in his presence, many of them in languages he didn’t speak. Didn’t need to understand to get the message. The same holds true now.
“Not going to kill you if I can help it lad.” he promises, still a bit bewildered at how much he means it.
The mer isn’t impressed by his sincerity however, keeping the stream of unintelligible pleas running. Right up until Ghost sets the knife against his scales. A warbling little whine escaping him now instead.
Without any more hesitation that will just torture them both Ghost presses down at an angle. Scraping off the scales along the path he intends to cut. From just above the mer’s slit, up towards where the scales merged with the skin.
Just as Price had promised it was relatively easy going. The scales are smooth and protective, but rather ineffective with him being able to take the time to carefully wedge between them. The mer stops his pleas and hisses in pain as more of his dark blue skin beneath the scales is revealed. The same dark blue found in the slit Ghost thinks and his mouth starts watering again.
He shakes the thought lose and sets the blade again. This time cutting flesh. The hiss of pain turns into a anguished shout that rattles his brain. But he’d expected it and keeps his hands steady.
Dark blue blood wells up where he splits first skin then fat then muscle. A lot of muscle too, much like Price had warned him. Strong and corded but his knife is up to the task and parts the tissue like paper despite it’s bulk.
As wound oozes navy, viscous, almost syrupy blood Ghost feels an insane urge to lick it all up. Somehow convinced it must be the sweetest thing he could taste. Maybe, he tells himself still baffled at the lack of his restraint, as a treat once the business part of the work was done.
He cuts a reverse route to how he’d scraped the scales off. From below the navel down to the slit, stopping a few centimetres above.
The mer whimpers pathetically, his own blood dripping into his face as he couldn’t do anything but watch his body being opened up. Seeing his face so pale with fear and streaked with his own blood does things for Ghost they probably should not be doing.
Insistently his cock urges him to reconsider his priorities, reminding him that he had not taken care of it after sticking his arm up into the poor thing. And now has whole new hole at his disposal.
He pushes that thought aside too. Clinging to the idea of the payout with all his might.
The eggs that have so far evaded him sit to the side of the abdomen. He hasn’t retained any of the anatomy terminology that Price had thrown around. Only that mer’s usually produce their first clutch in their mid twenties when their bodies are big enough to contain them. Especially with mer's resembling ray-finned fish like his, an egg-carrying mer would produce a shit load of them, packed tight into the skein-like tissue all over the abdomen. Those that produced them too early sometimes died miserable deaths from internal bleeding, so his lad hadn’t been all unlucky after all. Another mer was technically able to fertilise all of them too but the eggs usually absorbed other, less viable ones until only one or two remained and got carried to term. Brutal business, but since they carried the growing eggs until right before they’d hatch it was the only way that allowed the mer carrying them to survive.
Two cuts to either side would have been an option but he trusts his old captain’s advice on just doing one. Wants to give the lad a chance to heal. Apart from the fact that he knows he’ll enjoy the digging around more than any sane person should.
Putting the knife aside he uses his left hand to feel out one of the elusive clusters and slips his right hand into the cut. The mer wails, panting for air. His eyes are panic wide and Ghost knows that any noises he makes are unlikely to be coherent speech at this point.
If he was torturing him for information and not for monetary gain this would be the moment where he would stop. Give his target a chance to compose themselves and tell him what he wanted to hear.
“Calm yourself.” he warns instead “Gonna end up hyperventilating and have no one but yourself to blame.” Still not sure why he keeps speaking to the lad.
He carefully scoops the first evasive eggs out, mindful not to squish or tear anything in the mer that might be vital.
“Can see the outline of the eggs here,” he points out, “See how I get ‘em out.”
The mer is actually watching. Seemingly transfixed to witness what for all he knows might be his own undoing. Still madly pumping air, but watching.
Ghost’s cock twitches again.
He wonders if the lad would keep watching him if he fucked his guts, his quick unsteady breath just enough to keep him conscious for a while until too much blood leaked out of him. The thought makes him groan and his dick leaks a fat drop of precum against the inside of his waders.
“Think the next batch is pretty high up, almost to your ribs.”
He lets his hand slip back into the mer, slowly working his way through. It isn’t surprising he is all bricked up like this. The tight press of hot, wet tissue he is making his way through doesn’t feel any different to when he had stuck his arm up the mer’s slit.
The noises coming from his mer are getting more and more muted now. No more high loud wails but weak pained groans. Ghost is impressed as it is that he’s managed to stay conscious for as long as he has. For all his crying the lad is a fighter.
With the eggs under the ribs located he starts scooping again. According to Price the eggs that proved viable would migrate closer to the slit during the pregnancy. As he draws the route with his free hand he idly wonders if it felt something like what he is doing. If his little mer would have ended up panting and crying on the seafloor had he gotten pregnant, as eggs made their way through his body, heavy and threatening to crush all his soft bits.
Tracing over the puffy slit he can’t help himself but dip a finger in. Laughing when he finds the three little tentacles straining, un- and rewinding at a frantic pace.
“Shit, love, are you getting off to me messing around in your guts?”
The mer doesn’t answer, but his cocks do, winding desperately around Ghost’s fingers as he brushes past.
“Whore.” Ghost chides him fondly, ignoring what it says about him that he is now helping the mer get off with his forearm deep in viscera.
“You were a crying virgin an hour ago. Broke you proper, didn’t I?”
The mer makes a slurred noise that Ghost can only imagine is meant to be a protest but falls woefully short of doing it’s job. He lets his thumb glide over the heads of the little cocks and the mer’s body starts leaking more and more slick.
Those intensely blue eyes that have been observing him so astutely even through the pain are starting to go unfocused with pleasure.
Just when he is about to draw his right hand free and tease the eggs out Ghost uses the other to squeeze the little cocks together between his fingers and tug at them. His mer cries out, another beautiful clear note as he comes undone with a shudder. And finally that is too much for him, the high note breaks mid cry it’s entire body going slack all at once.
That’s probably a mercy.
It allows Ghost to carefully scoop out the remaining eggs and stay on task.
The poor things little body had really tried it’s hardest to hide them in every nook and cranny available. Going both deeper and higher than he’d expected. Without Price assurance of it he would certainly have missed some of them.
He really does owe the bastard after that call. And so does his mer, without the advice he might have ended inadvertently filleting the poor lad after all.
An egg or two will probably do. Whether Price chooses to eat them or sell them is up to him. Knowing the old pervert the answer was neither and he’ll stuff them up his own mer’s little slit for the fun of it.
When the last few eggs are safely deposited in the tub, Ghost digs through the IFAK. Fishing out the stapler. After a life of stitching himself back together Ghost has a deep appreciation for getting a wound closed fast and it isn’t like a few more scars would even be noticeable on him. The mer might feel different about it but most of it should get covered in scales in time and the rest he could remember Ghost by fondly.
At least with him unconscious and no wiggling he manages to give him a clean line instead of some of the zig-zag patterns he has on himself. Doubts the mer will thank him for it but it’s the best he can do.
He steps back finally, giving his work a once over.
There is nothing gravid about the mer’s body anymore. His stomach flat and ordinary apart from the angry line of staples and dark blue blood. It makes him look younger. More helpless.
Ghost dick gives another twitch of interest. Unwilling to wait any longer after holding back for so long.
This is a chance he’ll probably won’t ever get again, having a mer all pliant and at his mercy. But Ghost isn’t going to ruin his work with the staples. So he has the crane draw up further, putting that slack open mouth at the perfect height for himself to fuck. Something he’d never consider if the lad was awake judging by the rows of sharp teeth in his mouth.
He shrugs his suspenders off, letting the waders fall to the ground and gives his cock a few strokes. Uncaring about the fact that he is mixing his precum with thick navy blood. If anything it’s a bonus.
The moment he feeds his cock into the slack mouth he knows he isn’t going to last long. The blue tongue keeps sliding over the head and top of his cock, creating an infernal drag that has his knees weak in an instant. He still makes sure to rub over it several times, coating it in the baby blue mix of precum and blood for an easier glide and to make sure his mer will wake up tasting what has happened to him. Then he lets his cock slip down into the mer’s throat.
Enveloped in the wet heat of a constricting throat Ghost groans and stills himself before realising he does not have to hold back or show any other form of courtesy. So he lets himself rut into the mer’s throat, first in short aborted thrusts, then growing bolder and rougher. There is a slight catch of teeth on the base of his cock when he gets to careless but at that point Ghost is in a frenzy. The slight prickle and promise of pain doing nothing but spurring him on.
The sound of them is obscene, the slap of flesh on flesh mixed with the wet gurgles of a throat being invaded echoing over the ocean.
Ghost leans in, with the mer dangling upside down he is at the perfect height for him to return the favour. Making the poor thing come again is probably not the best idea, considering that he’s literally just stapled him back together, but the little cocklets prove too alluring to Ghost and he lets his tongue glide over them. They twitch and recoil, oversensitive after all his playing.
He licks up, dipping into the hole. Finally tasting the slick. It’s tangy and thick and Ghost swears he could spend the rest of his life eating nothing else. He slips back down to the skittish little cocks, chasing them with his tongue and then goes back up lick up the fat new spurt of slick it earns him.
Right then and there he forgets about the damn eggs and everything else.
There’s only the tight throat around his dick, milking him for all he’s worth and the writhing tentacles that’ll reward him with more delicious spend when he chases them just right.
Nothing else matters has he buries himself deep in the mer’s throat and comes with a muted shout, the tentacles weakly winding around his tongue as the mer shudders. The creamy liquid they discharge tastes even better than the slick, still tangy but a hint of sweetness to it.
It takes a physical effort for Ghost to withdraw his mouth from the source of his treat. An even greater one to unlock his knees and draw his cock out. He wipes the head of it clean on the lads blue tongue before he draws his suspenders back up.
As he stands there, still catching his breath from one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, he feels something possessive tug in his chest.
Actual anger bubbles up in him like a pot boiling over as he imagines his mer coming that sweet cream on anothers tongue. Spawning his eggs for someone that is not Ghost.
It roils in him for a moment with blinding intensity and only recedes when he realises there is a very simple solution.
He could just keep him.
Make sure the lad actually survives, instead of tossing him back in the ocean when he comes to and let him take his chances. Being nursed back to health, not having to hunt for his own food he’d heal much faster. Better too probably. And obviously he wasn’t great out on the ocean all on his own anyway. Point and case him almost killing himself with his first clutch. Irresponsible little thing.
It had been a flight of fancy considering it earlier but now it was starting to take shape in Ghost’s mind.
If he kept with him Ghost would make sure he never got to this point again. Would help him with every single clutch instead of leaving him to die like his people clearly had.
The logistics of keeping a mer would be complicated and it was highly illegal.
Chance was he’d be fine if Ghost just dumped him back into the sea. He’d be safe from Ghost at least, as once those eggs were sold he wouldn’t keep breaking his back fishing.
Studying the mer again he can’t help imagining a big house, built around a tank much like Price’s. Overseeing a cliff with a view of the ocean maybe. But more important, wherever he went in the house he’d have his mer in sight. Could watch him grow fat with eggs again. And then, when it was time, fuck them all out of him again.
The upkeep would be expensive. But Ghost was about to make more money than he knew what do to with and had a man on hand who knew the exact kind of illegal networks that would make it possible. Fucking hell more eggs would make those expenses laughable.
Ghost had been poor his whole life, living on scraps as a kid and on the excuse the military called compensation and pension after. For the first time he’d have the money to just fuck around with as he pleased. And he knew, with certainty, just what he he wanted to splurge on.
“To hell with it love, you’re coming home with me.”