Aquadynamic
#7 of Grant and Grace
If only you could be a little faster in the water. You could be a champion and you know it. Grant is willing to grant this wish for you but there will be a catch. There's always a catch...
You have always been a swimmer. As a child you were often found doing laps in the lake near your grandparent's property. The beach was essentially your home away from home. You had to be dragged away pouting when it came time to leave. Naturally when you began high school you were more than eager to join the swim team and join you swiftly did. You met with great success. Your diligence and practice paid off beautifully and you won first place in every event you undertook. A scholarship for swimming helped you into University where, unfortunately, you have had trouble competing. You train more than ever, but the crushing weight of doubt increasingly wears you down. The situation causes you no end of frustration.
Presently you are stomping away from your most recent disappointment. You placed third in an inter-collegiate swim meet in the breaststroke event which has always been your specialty. Third place in this particular competition is an admirable placement, but to you who have lived and breathed swimming for so long, it is a mockery. You grumble your way into the locker room wearing your skintight shorts and swim cap. The large space is almost entirely vacant. Your event was the last of the competition and the team has plans to meet at a restaurant for dinner. Your teammates have already left for the restaurant. You hastily make your way to your locker.
"Fucking Bishop." You whisper sharply to yourself. "How is he so fast? He barely trains, yet he flies by me every time!" You unlock your padlock and yank open the locker. After removing a towel you angrily throw your cap and goggles inside. "Damn. I just wish I were faster." You lean for a moment against the row of lockers. Seething with frustration and unwarranted self-loathing. When you finally regain your composure you shut the locker door.
"Faster? Hmm."
"Ahhh! Fff-what--?" You real backwards from the locker nearly tripping over a bench. Leaning against the metallic doors is a monstrous character. An anthropomorphic dog of roughly your height nibbles his thumb as if in thought. His fur is all white and appears to be a bull-terrier. The dog wears purple slacks which cut off at the ankle. An exotic looking sash adorns his hips. The general effect of the creature is one of fear. You make the mistake of looking into its eyes which are wholly black and soulless. He takes notice of your outburst. You hesitantly meet his chilling stare as you recoil in terror.
"Faster. How are we going to make you faster?" The dog muses in his velvety voice.
"What? What are you?! HELP! Somebody!" You shout.
"Lance, relax." The dog says calmly. "The building is empty, no one will hear you."
"What do you mean? There are a ton of people in the pool." You mutter as you back against the opposing row of lockers.
"Not right now there aren't." The dog states. The implications of the statement are lost on you. He stands aside from the locker before bowing deeply. "My name is Grant. I am a humble wish-granter. Whatever you desire I can make happen." Despite his cordiality your first instinct is to run. The unshakable feeling of wrongness wafting about the character offend your every sensibility. However Grant's words entice. By degrees you release your panicked, white-knuckle grip of the locker doors.
"You are a wish-granter? What, like a genie?" You ask, dumbfounded. "How is this possible?"
"For me, anything is possible." Grant replies with a smirk. "For instance... I can make you into a better swimmer."
You had been edging toward the locker room's exit, but you freeze when you hear Grant's suggestion.
"You can do that? How?" You ask incredulously.
"I just told you dummy. I can do anything I want." Grant replies, put out.
Your mind is suddenly awash with possibilities. 'If this thing actually exists right now.' You think, 'If this is real. It must be true. He probably can do anything.' You fold your arms and contemplate. You could wish to be the world's best swimmer. You could wish to have the strength to swim across oceans. You could wish to breathe water. The options... With every idea that crosses your mind Grant's fanged grin grows.
"I... believe you." You say. "But what's in it for you?" You eye the bull-terrier carefully. He shakes his head, ears flopping.
"Nothing. It's what I do. Granting wishes just pleases me. Trust me." The dog's suspicious choice of words is lost on you as your mind races with potentialities. You decide that you trust the dog enough to make a wish.
"Ok, ok. I um. I wish I were a faster swimmer. Really fast." You say excitedly. Grant continues to grin.
"Alright. I've figured it out. You just need to be smoother and more aquadynamic." Grant responds looking thoughtful.
"I guess... So how does this work?" You ask.
"Like this." The first word Grant says hits you from where he had been standing, but the second word is whispered in your ear. The dog is instantaneously behind you. Before you can whirl around in surprise he wraps his arm around your neck and gets you into a head lock.
"Urrk, What are you doing?!" You pull and twist, but can't slip from Grant's grip. His arms, while not overly muscular, are like metal. You plant your hands on his furry fore arm, but it doesn't budge.
"Open up." He orders.
"Huh! Ahhhhh." Against your will your jaw drops and hangs open. Grand holds his hand above your face pointing his index finger. At the tip of his big, black claw a liquid congeals. Black, like the claw itself the fluid accumulates into a solid drop.
"Uh-uh, Uhhh!" You moan as the drop falls from the dog's claw into your mouth. Grant releases you and you fall backward against the wall of the locker room. The drop has already travelled down your throat and vanished. You feel a startling coolness. Grant watches expectantly. A glint shows in his dreaded eyes.
"What was that?! What did you -koff, koff-" You begin to shout, but are cut off by a fit of coughing. You begin to notice an unsettling sensation of something crawling up your throat. You point a finger at Grant and attempt to speak, but there is no sound; no breath even.
"Here it comes." Grant whispers.
You feel a surging fluid fill your mouth. As it does so you vomit it out, but it has a mind of its own. The black tide, presumably from Grant's drop, creeps out of your mouth and creates an unformed snout. It covers your mouth and extends outward. It looks rough at first, but slowly becomes smooth. As the substance coats the rest of your face you bring a hand your transformed mouth. It is a very long maw, like that of a dolphin. When you touch it, and the parts inside you find they are rubbery and pliable. You look at Grant with terror in your eyes as they too are coated by the substance.
Your hair is coated and dissolved into the shiny black substance. As you attempt to scream your long, mouth flaps. You are temporarily blinded as your eyes are covered. When vision returns you blink and find the black snout occupying the middle of your vision. You bring your still-human hands to your face and find that it is entirely covered. Soft and black. The creeping fluid descends down your chest and arms. Your body retains its musculature, but takes on the shiny, and squeaky, second skin. It feels strangely tight and the coated areas tingle wildly with sensation. You feel the changes more than see them as your new snout blocks much of the view.
The substance reaches your hands and you are momentarily left with useless, solid mitts until fingers become apparent. Two fingers and a thumb. Large and featureless fingers with webbing betwixt them. You flex them in shocked disbelief.
"Murr, Granting wishes definitely gives me pleasure." Grant groans. He adjusts the increasingly apparent mound in the front of his pants.
You open and shut your long snout uselessly. You don't seem to be breathing and this terrifies you. You cannot speak. Only a series of squeaks accompanies your wild yapping. At your ass a huge, ellipsoid mound extends outward. Evidently a forming tail the mound grows and grows weighing you down in a new and uncomfortable way. You struggle to balance its alien weight. At its termination two fins appear. The tail of a dolphin. Suddenly you understand what Grant has done.
An especially surprising change then occurs. Between your butt cheeks the latex hardens to form a steadily widening rod which creeps its way inside your rectum. You squirm and squeak as it fills your backside. Once inside an arm of it explores and finds your prostate. You would groan at the obscenely pleasurable sensation if you could. Instead your rubbery tongue lolls out of the side of your maw. Your penis springs to life as the latex begins to coat it. The fluid generously enhances the size of your cock. The smooth, black rod stands terminally stiff. As with the rest of your coated parts your penis is especially sensitive.
"Look at this, I think he likes it." Grant chides. He sucks the claw of his thumb as he kneads his balls inside his pants.
Your legs bulk up under the black tide. As the fluid approaches the ground your legs are left lean and fit. The legs of a swimmer. Through the horror of the moment you are happy at least to know that you will still be able to swim. And probably faster than before as Grant had promised. Your feet are covered and shapeless. When the details appear you find two nubby toes conjoined by webbing. You twiddle them disgustedly. When the changes have apparently stopped you look yourself over. Grant pulls open a locker which has a mirror on its door. You see a tall, black thing. A curvaceous and fit anthropomorphic dolphin. Your eyes now resemble the black, beady ones dolphins possess. There is a dorsal fin on your backside. As you examine yourself you are continually squirming due to the latex in your anus. It reacts as if intelligent. The more you try to ignore its insistent titillation the more intense it becomes. You try to hide your exited dick from Grant.
"Go on. I know you want to." Grant says suggestively. You turn to face him with the nearest approximation of anger into which you can contort your dolphin-like face. In his typically black eyes are terrifying white shapes. Indescribable and horrid they writhe and play. He stares at your groin. You rub your squeaky thighs together as the pleasure increases to loftier heights at Grant's command.
'That's hnng--not fair.' You think. You stumble toward the benches with the urgent goal of relieving your twitching penis.
"Fap for me. Now." Grant insists. You are nearly helpless to comply. Your body feels entirely compressed and sensual. The sleek and soft surfaces of your new form are inherently sexual. After fumbling with your weighty tail you collapse onto the bench and immediately wrap your two-fingered hands around your enlarged black shaft. You've been dripping pre since the transformation reached your penis so it is thoroughly lubricated. Of course your smooth hands would slide over the surface easily anyhow.
You've never felt so horny; not even during actual sex. As you run your free hand over your muscular, yet supple thighs electric ripples of transcendent pleasure shoot through your entire body. Your passionate masturbating causes you to squeak and squelch loudly. But this is beyond your control.
Grant, feeling particularly heated, sneaks behind you. As you pump and pump he works his arms under yours. He runs his claws tantalizingly over your smooth skin. He traces the muscles of your chest and breathes heavily In your ear holes. You can feel his fuzzy chest tickling your dorsal fin. You are too horny to express your displeasure at the dog's groping. All you can do is pump away at your rubbery shaft as Grant has his way with you. You look down with a start when you feel one of Grant's hands cupping your testicles. He kneads them masterfully pushing you closer to the unstoppable climax.
Your squeaking increases. Grant chuckles as you blow your load surprisingly early. The waves of satisfaction knock you back into Grant's arms. Your maw hangs open. When you are sufficiently satisfied you look at the ground to find a black puddle. When you hold up and examine your hands you find that your ejaculate has been replaced by liquid latex. It drips from your finger to the floor. It coats Grant's hand as well. The dog licks the back of your neck lasciviously. He rubs your shoulders as he rises.
"Mmm doesn't that feel better Lance?" He whispers.
Now that you've relieved the urge to masturbate you find that fear is taking its place. 'Oh god. I can't talk, what do I do?' You think in a mounting panic. You rise to your feet and wipe clean your messed hands on a towel.
"Uh oh. Don't look now buddy, but I think some of your friends are coming." Grant says. The dog, with the tent still showing in his pants, walks to the locker room wall and leans. You hear voices approaching from the hallway. John and Duane, your friends from the opposing swim team are coming. In a blind frenzy you look around for a place to hide. Unfortunately you are too late. The boys round the corner and spot you immediately.
"Hehe yeah--Woah. Dude check this thing out." John nudges Duane who was involved in telling a story. Duane turns his attention to you.
"Ahh what the hell is that?" Duane wonders. "Is it a mascot or something?"
You have an idea. You begin pointing first to yourself and then to your locker which has your name written on it. You flap your mouth in an attempt to speak, but of course only squeaks are heard.
"Lance is that you?" John asks, slowly approaching. Grant begins to grin and then laugh. The shapes in his eyes dance as the latex in your anus springs to life again. Even though you have just climaxed your rod engorges and stands erect. You shiver from the prostate tickling.
"Awww, John look at its dick. Ew." Duane comments. "I don't think that's Lance man. Hey, who are you?"
You flap your useless snout desperately. You point at Grant who grins lasciviously. John turns to look at the wall, but doesn't see the bull-terrier. Duane is increasingly alarmed.
"Hey, I asked who you are pervert!" Duane repeats. Deflated you look at him. You again try pointing between yourself and the locker.
"John. Call the cops. Now. I don't know who this is, but he is fucked up." Duane orders. John hurriedly retrieves his cellphone and dials.
The police would arrive a short time later. As you had no way to communicate or identify yourself you were swiftly placed under arrest. The demon dog Grant followed you for some time. He would wait for extremely inconvenient moments and cause the latex to arouse you. You were put in jail. Grant followed and sat beside you on your bed. As you sat and looked at your stout fingers and webbing Grant whispered in your ear "I wonder what they'll do when they find out there is no person inside..."