Well Suited
"Come on, you've got to have another one."
His friends all snickered quietly behind him while Derek pleaded with the man behind the counter. Whether the shopkeeper was aware of the fact that he was dangerously close to becoming the butt of several post-vacation jokes, he couldn't be sure, but the leathery looking old man just shrugged. "Not in your size, I'm sorry."
The group of friends had all come south for their spring break, and in between scamming on chicks at the beach and hitting up the numerous nightclubs that the city had to offer, the five of them had decided to swing on down outside of the town to do a little scuba diving. It wasn't the first time they had done such a thing as a group, and they had in fact done so very near this location. As it had been a last minute sort of decision, though, no one had brought any kind of gear for that kind of activity, and they had been forced to find a place they could rent from. With it being a busy spring break week, they had been lucky to find any place at all that still had any gear to loan them; he knew he should be grateful.
All the same, as he stood in front of the counter and glared across at the older man, he couldn't help but to wonder what kind of ridiculous luck he had. "Come on, man. They all got ... normal ones. What's up with that?"
"They asked first," he said simply enough, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know what's wrong with this one, either."
Again a quiet snicker erupted from the group of guys standing behind him, and Derek turned to shoot an angry look at them over his shoulder. It did not have the desired effect. "Because I'll look like some kind of freaking cartoon."
With that comment the assembled youths erupted in less than restrained laughter, causing the old shopkeeper to blink at them in confusion and Derek to smack his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I don't understand what the problem is," the old man said again, holding out the strangely patterned wetsuit. "It was custom made!"
"I can see that," Derek said, looking through his fingers that were now splayed over his face. The wetsuit dangling from a hanger in the old man's hand looked serviceable enough, except for the fact that it had very clearly been made to resemble the black and white markings of an orca. Derek could not fathom why anyone would want to make, let alone wear, a wetsuit like that. "What I can't see is why anyone would custom make ... well ... that."
The older gentleman seemed to be taken aback. "What's wrong with this? The orca is a fine animal, a noble creature of the sea if there ever was one ..."
Derek merely waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm sure it is," he said, turning back to shoot another angry look over his shoulder when one of his friends began to snort and giggle. "But look, all I want to do is go on a dive, not go trick-or-treating, kay?"
"Well then." The man scowled and turned away, heading back with the custom suit in tow. "I don't want to rent it to you, anyway, if you can't appreciate it."
"Dude," one of his friends said, poking Derek in the back. "It's all he's got, you should take it."
He simply grunted and frowned. "Seriously, you think I'm going to wear that thing and be seen in the daylight?"
His friend simply shrugged. "The man said it's all he's got left, and this is the last shop in town that's got anything left to rent. But hey, if you want to stay on the boat with Bobby's dad and, uh, talk about the weather while we're all down diving ..."
Derek snorted in irritation again but then sighed; he knew that was the truth of the matter. "Hey, old guy," he said, not knowing the shopkeeper's name nor in much of a mood to learn it. "Tell you what. I'll rent the thing for half price, ok?"
The man stopped in his tracks, and turned around slowly. He seemed to be wearing a mischievous little grin on his face all of a sudden. "Half price?"
"Half price," Derek said with a nod and an attempt to look disinterested.
"I don't think so." The old man's eyes twinkled, bright blue orbs nestled in a deeply tanned and wrinkled face. "This here's a beauty, a work of art. One of a kind, really," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Something like this I could only let go for ... oh, double the regular rent."
Derek's eyes widened, his voice starting to sputter. "Double? Come on, I ..."
Again the old man shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, it's a one of a kind." He leaned over a little, flashing a toothy grin. "Besides. Sounds like it's the last one in town that's gonna fit you. It's either double or it's Bobby's dad."
The rest of his friends exploded in laughter as the apparently shrewd old shopkeeper capitalized on Derek's misfortune, and all he could do was turn red in the cheeks and make a fist. "I guess I don't really have a choice," he said, digging angrily in his pockets for his wallet and breathing out a sigh of resignation.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At the very least, the friends had ready access to a boat, as Bobby's father lived in the area and was an avid fisherman. Derek quietly wished that some interest in scuba, or at the very least, a wetsuit, came hand in hand with owning a boat but such was not the case. He had tried hard not to get too worked up over the fact that his wetsuit looked better suited to a Disney movie rather than a serious dive, and at the very least the weather and the scenery had cooperated. Sparkling blue spread out in every direction from the boat as it cut through the placid water, leaving a wake that glittered in the springtime sun. The shore off in the distance contrasted the blue of the ocean and the sky by forming a line of green that cut across the horizon. When the boat had finally come to a stop near where they were going to dive, they had all marvelled at how perfectly clear the water was. They could not have asked for better conditions for a dive.
As the five friends suited up, however, Derek's mood took a turn for the worse. Luckily out here there weren't any hot girls to try to impress. His friends would be the only ones who would have to see him in this getup, but it was certainly not going to be the sort of thing that they would let him live down easily. He didn't bring his camera, and could only hope that none of the others had brought one as well. He was certainly in no hurry to have evidence of the incident.
Derek had already pulled on the lower half of the wetsuit, black in color except for the white that ran along the inside of the legs and right up over the crotch. That alone probably would not have been so bad except for the top half that accompanied it. As it dangled from his hips,he looked it over with a grim sort of expression. The front was mostly white and the back was mostly black, although along the sides there were the occasional irregularities, a little patch of white that made an excursion onto the field of black or vice versa; it would look absolutely ridiculous. With a sigh of resignation, he shook his head and started to pull it on.
He noticed that it felt a little odd going on, as well. The material was somehow slightly different than the neoprene that he was used to. It felt a little on the thin side, and the exterior had a slightly more rubbery texture than he might have expected but he thought little of it; it probably was just a by-product of it being an older, custom creation. He pulled and tugged on the sleeves to get them to fit correctly, smoothing out all of the little wrinkles. At least the thing fit him perfectly.
With a sigh, Derek turned to head over to where the others were suiting up; he would have to ask for help zipping up the back. As he made his way, he stopped to regard his reflection in one of the plexiglass windowpanes on the boat. If he ignored the ridiculous pattern of the suit, it suddenly didn't seem so bad. It fit him to perfection and molded to his features perfectly, showing off the musculature of his chest and his upper torso. Briefly he posed for himself and he smiled. Even in ridiculous black and white patterns, he still looked good. Derek winked at his own reflection and grinned, turning once more and heading to where the others were.
One of them saw him coming before the rest and grinned broadly. "Free Willy!" he called out, and the others turned to look, immediately breaking out in peals of laughter. Derek's brief flash of feeling less than embarrassed evaporated as his friends pointed and laughed, one of them even going so far as to wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.
"Knock it off," Derek said with a huff as he stalked over to the nearest of his friends, jabbing him in the side. "Someone zip me up," he said, turning his back and waiting.
Someone did grab hold of the zipper and tugged it up, but not without making another verbal dig at his getup. "Aww, what's wrong? Can't manage a zipper with your flippers?"
Derek scowled and turned around, shoving his way through the young men. "I said knock it off," he repeated, scowling as he made his way over to where the rest of the gear was at. At the very least, the rest of the gear, down to the flippers and face masks, were completely identical. "These here all checked out?"
The five friends finished up their preparations, consulting briefly with Bobby's father, the owner of the boat, as far as how long they'd be down below the water. Eager to be on their way, they finished suiting up amidst several more verbal prods and teases that were tossed in Derek's direction, all of which he responded to with either a scowl or a grunt. The dive could not happen soon enough.
No sooner had he gone over the edge of the boat and broken through the surface of the water, did Derek's annoyance quickly fade away. The water was as perfectly clear down here as it had looked from above, and the five friends were instantly surrounded by clear cerulean blue as far as the eyes could see. Less than thirty feet below was the reef they had come to visit, teeming with life. Derek, who was at the lead of the dive, signalled to the others and began to swim his way down toward the reef, a cloud of brightly colored yellow fish parting to make way for his passage.
Now I wish I'd brought a damn camera, after all, he thought to himself as his eyes took in the explosion of color and life all around him. Mentally he tried to take stock of all the fish that he saw swimming around him. Black and white striped coralfish darted around his vision, and just beyond was a living stream of butterflyfish that seemed to dart around both him and the reef in unison. Further below, the reef itself unfolded beneath him in a series of shelves and spires, teeming with life in every corner. He kicked his feet and made his way toward an outcropping of magenta coral not far away, scaring up a small school of squirrelfish in the process. None of them seemed to care that he was suited up in a ridiculous outfit, and so he seemed to care less and less as the moments went on.
Another one of his friends entered his field of vision, lazily kicking his way along the reef and turning his head back to signal the others that he was going to take a look at another outcropping that was just off to the side, where several blue fish that Derek didn't immediately recognize were darting about. He might have been tempted to join him and take a look if he hadn't been more occupied with drinking in the sight in front of him. A grey reef shark, probably half his size, lazily swam past with a twitch of its tail, seeming to give him only the briefest of glances. It was indeed a sight to see.
On a whim, Derek decided to follow after the reef shark for a little bit and just watch what it was doing. The creature paid him no heed, completely uninterested in the human that followed him. Derek looked back over his shoulder and signaled to his buddies that he was headed in that direction; they acknowledged him with a thumbs up amid a cloud of little bubbles. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the shark that was patrolling a small section of reef, perhaps out looking for food, perhaps just passing through. He couldn't be sure.
As he made his way for the outcropping that the shark had been circling, he suddenly felt something was very wrong. He couldn't figure out what it was at first, glancing around his shoulders to make sure nothing was amiss, seeing nothing but gas bubbles dancing around him and small fishes keeping their distance. Then, a fraction of a second later, he realized what it was; he was getting very little air to breathe.
Derek tried not to panic. He turned around to get his bearings and signal for help, but much to his surprise he could not longer see any of his friends. They had been there behind him, no more than a few yards, just moments before, and as clear as the water was in every direction around there was no way he could have swam out of sight of them, or vice versa. He looked upward to see if they were there, but there was still no sign of his friends. Were they pulling a strange prank on him?
Instinctively he made his way for the surface when he realized that he was going to run out of air soon. He managed to keep a calm head on his shoulders, though, and when he did finally make the surface he suffered little ill effect other than a slightly elevated pulse rate. Pulling the face mask away and letting it dangle at the side of his head, essentially useless, he glanced around for where the boat was waiting for them.
It was nowhere to be found.
Derek's mind spun in confusion. He had been under the water no more than fifteen minutes, and there was no way that the boat would leave while the guys were still below the surface, particularly when one of them was the owner's only son. There was no sign of his friends, either; in fact, there was no sign of anything at all. With panic again starting to rise in his chest, Derek kicked himself around in a full circle, his eyes spotting nothing but the endless blue of the sky and the water, the sun shining down from him on high.
"What the hell?"
He did another full circle before his gaze fixated on the hint of green in the distance, where the shore was. Seeing that had a slightly calming effect on him, but the fact that he could not find either his friends nor the boat made no sense and scared the hell out of him. Turning around once more to make sure that he was indeed alone, he started to swim his way for the shore in the distance.
It didn't seem to far, but the distance was deceiving. He paddled his way for five minutes, and then ten, and the shore didn't seem any closer. Fifteen minutes passed with the same result. He paused a moment to catch his breath, glancing around for any sign of the boat, and started swimming again when there clearly was none. Again he paddled along for ten, fifteen minutes as his muscles began to tire and burn from the exertion, but at least he could see the beach nearing.
A good half hour of swimming had passed before Derek was close enough to land to stand up, and he sloshed his way another good thirty yards or so through the shallow water before a wave behind him knocked him over and dumped him onto the sand. He gasped for breath as the wave washed over him and pushed him further up the sand, digging his fingers in and hauling himself forward to keep from being swept back out into the water. With a bit of an effort, he crawled his way up away from the waves, collapsing into a bit of a pile and huffing with the effort of the swim.
Derek waited another good fifteen minutes before his breath had begun to slow and the immediate fear of passing out faded away before he dared to stir from where he lay. At first he could only muster the strength to roll himself onto his side and pull himself up a little to survey his situation. With a shaky hand he reached up and peeled the mask and the rest of the breathing apparatus from his face, leaving it to dangle over his shoulder. He was surprised to find himself alone on the beach, and even more surprised to find that there was nothing but relatively undisturbed beach as far as the eye could see. As far as he knew, the shoreline near where they had left was heavily developed and there were businesses, condominiums and luxury homes that had crept up to the edge of the ocean. He hadn't been aware of having gone quite so far out of the way.
Another moment of recuperating had gone by before he finally hauled himself up into a sitting position, pausing to catch his breath and unhook the rest of the scuba gear from his back and letting it clatter heavily to the sand. He twisted himself to get a better look at the tank, finding it to be mostly full. There had to be a defect somewhere in the system that was preventing the oxygen from reaching the mask, but he wasn't especially interested in trying to figure it out at the moment. He stood up, finally, to get a better look around but still could not make out anything except for the beach stretching in either direction, sandwiched between an endless sea of glittering blue waves on one side and verdant green foliage on the other.
"Shit," he spat out angrily between a pair of breaths. "I'm lost."
He reached up to wipe some of the drops of salt water that still clung to his nose, brushing the back of his forearm against his forehead and then cringing at the feel of coarse grains of salt dragging across his head. He looked down at his wetsuit and saw much of it covered in sand from where he'd been laying out on the beach. He reached down to start brushing the sand off of the suit, or at least as much as he could manage. "When I get back, I'm gonna throttle that old man." he said, scowling at his mostly futile effort to brush the still damp sand off the suit. "Renting me this retarded suit and then renting me a defective tank. Damned near killed me. I'm gonna beat his ass, and then I'm gonna sue his ass for all he's worth."
Derek nodded as he conversed angrily with himself, and then stopped in his efforts to clear the sand from the suit. Much to his chagrin, he had spotted something on the lower part of the suit, a little below his belly, that looked like a tear in the suit. It might be a little harder to unload on the old guy if he brought back a torn suit, and in fact he'd probably be forced to buy the damned thing. "Maybe it's a seam coming undone," he muttered quietly. If it were just a seam, he could blame it on the suit itself and not be held liable. Still, it didn't look like a seam; it was a bit too high for that. Still, he reached over to investigate the tear just to make sure.
As his fingers brushed the suit along the length of the tear a strange sensation shot up Derek's body that made him briefly freeze in place. He tore his hands away from the suit and stared at them, half expecting to see something on them. The sensation had been sudden but fleeting, like a spark of electricity that had issued right from his fingertip and shot right through the suit into his groin and then back up his spine, briefly tingling in the back of his skull before it faded. It was extremely unusual, but more than that, it felt damned good.
He stared a moment longer at his hands, but with the exception of several patches of sand that had stuck to his skin, there was nothing there. Experimentally he touched himself on the shoulder, but nothing unusual happened. He touched himself again on the opposite arm, on his chest, even on the bare skin of his cheek but there was nothing unusual. He hesitated briefly, looking back down at the tear in the suit before gingerly touching his fingertips to it.
Immediately that sensation ran up his nerves again, making him tingle lightly all along his spine. He let off a soft, involuntary gasp, but this time didn't pull his fingers away. Gently he ran his fingertips along the length of the tear in the suit, and as he did his breath caught in his chest and his eyes rolled back in his head a bit. His mind buzzed with the strange but intense sensation, trying to figure out what was going on but coming to no conclusion except for the fact that it felt fucking good.
Without thinking about it, Derek found himself tracing that line up and down several times, each time making his heart race a little faster. He peered down again to look, biting at his bottom lip as he watched. A curious thought rose up in the back of his head as he realized that the tear was located conveniently right there at his groin. He glanced back over his shoulders to make sure he was all by himself. Perhaps he could pull the suit back enough to reach in, find the slot in his underpants and pull it out ... it'd go along so well with what he was feeling. He was certain that he could already feel the rush of blood down there that preceded an arousal. As long as no one was around, what harm would there be?
Certain he was alone, he swallowed a little and looked back down. His fingertips gingerly grasped at the edge of the tear and he tugged, but to his surprise the suit seemed unwilling to peel away. The more he tugged at it the more intense the sensation felt. With some effort it began to give way, but just as he began to have some luck there something else, altogether unexpected, caught his eye.
The cuff of the suit, where it wrapped snugly around his wrist, was also looking torn and ragged. Stranger than that, however, was the fact that the edge seemed to be moving right in front of his eyes. Startled, Derek pulled his hand up in front of his face and watched as the cuff of the suit seemed to be writhing, almost melting, becoming almost like an oily liquid on his wrists. Wide-eyed he watched as it began to crawl its way up his palms, sticking to his skin and moving along. He let out a startled little yelp as he started to smack his hands together and try to brush the strange liquid off of his skin, but it had no effect. Within a short matter of a few seconds, it had covered both of his hands entirely and become solid again, resembling the suit itself, as if it had formed itself into a pair of gloves to cover his hands. Still startled, he tried to pull the gloves off but they would not budge; they were stuck fast to his skin.
A fearful sensation suddenly gripped his chest. He had felt that way once before, when he had become trapped inside of a small suitcase as a child. Memories of being trapped inside of something that he could not escape from welled up inside of him and made him feel panicky. Back then, he had kicked and flailed against the suitcase but there was nothing he could do but scream and cry for help until his mother had shown up and released him from his temporary prison. While he was not confined to a small enclosure this time, the sensation of having this suit somehow covering his hands and trapping them was eerily similar. The fear that rose up in his chest threatened to choke him off, and he fell to his knees with a thud.
He wondered if it would stop there. Gloved hands reached up to try and feel at his neck, surprisingly tactile through the fabric of the suit, brushing against the edge of the suit where it hugged his neck. To his horror, he felt the same broken, irregular edge there, and it, too, seemed to be moving. He let off another cry of surprise and fear as he tried to get a grip on the edge and pull it free, but his gloved fingers could find no purchase on it. With startling speed, it seemed to flow up his neck and under his chin. He clawed and tugged on it madly, his heart thumping wildly in his chest with fear but there was not a thing in the world he could do about it. Soon the panic gripped him, held him tight and he was paralyzed with fear. All he could do was wait in abject horror for the stuff to close around his mouth and his nostrils, choke off his breath and leave him there to die, suffocated, wrapped in some kind of cursed, horrible suit that would take his life.
That moment never came. The fear that brought him to his knees eventually left him curled on the sand in a fetal position, but his breath was never cut off. The heated rush of blood coursed through his veins and left him feeling stressed and heated over his entire body; his muscles ached with the quivering and the tensing, but he could still breathe. After what seemed like nearly an eternity, Derek's heartbeat began to taper off some, the panicky screams issuing from his throat quieting to a meek whimper, but he could still breathe. His eyes opened and adjusted to the sunlight; he must have had them closed, lying curled on the sand there for some time. The realization that he could still see, still breathe, calmed him a bit more. Unsteady hands reached up and touched his cheeks, sliding upward to the crown of his head but only moved over a smooth surface. It had indeed covered his head, but somehow hadn't covered his eyes, hadn't left him to suffocate and die.
His eyes caught sight of the dull gray air tanks discarded just off to the side, along with the face mask lying in the sand, along with a faint, distorted reflection. He reached over and grasped the mask, pulling it over toward him and trying to see his reflection, wanting to see how his face had been covered. He had thought he remembered the front of the goggles were slightly mirrored but they weren't. He couldn't quite make himself out.
Again a feeling of panic started to well up in his chest. His hands began to claw around the items he had discarded, but nothing would be of any use. Black rubber tubings and mesh cloth, dull painted gray tanks. There was nothing nearly reflective enough for him to see.
Then he realized why the plastic of the face mask had been reflective before; it was the angle of the light. Immediately he reached for the mask again and pulled it upward, turning a little so the sun was at the right. He held it out in front of him, tilting it a little till it was just right.
What he saw startled him.
The white part of the suit had gone up along the front of his neck and under his chin, and black on the back, but it had done more than just cover his face; the whole shape of his head seemed to have changed. In place of a relatively flat face punctuated by a nose, it jutted out in a rounded, fleshy sort of beak, not unlike the head of an orca. He gasped, and the strange face in the reflection gasped back, showing off rows of small, conical teeth and a broad pinkish tongue. He blinked in shock. The blue eyes of the creature in the reflection stared back at him, peering out from dark black flesh.
"What ... the hell?"
He touched the top of his head with a shaky hand, the reflection doing the same. He felt out the shape of that beak, fingers moving over the rounded tip and then back up behind his head, trailing back behind his neck till they came across an unexpected protrusion. The face mask was dropped, forgotten to the ground as his fingers moved over that protrusion, feeling out its shape and coming to the conclusion that it was what he had thought; a dorsal fin.
More disturbing, though, was the fact that he could feel his touch on that fin, not only through his fingertips but through the fin itself. He stood up, suddenly, turning around to look behind him. Protruding strangely from just above his hips was a big, thick tail, black on the top with a spot of white extending downward from the base near the tip, where it flared out in a small but well formed fluke. He watched in surprise as it moved behind him, raising and then falling again. The realization of what was going on hit him like a ton of bricks. The suit hadn't covered him, it had changed him. Suddenly he felt dizzy, his vision starting to spin as he again fell to his knees roughly.
He reached up with his hands and cupped them around his strangely formed head, holding it up while he gasped for breath to keep from blacking out. He knelt there for a few long moments as he calmed himself down, and while he was there, his eyes caught sight of that tear in the suit he had seen previously. He realized then that it had been no tear to begin with. Curiously, unsteadily, he reached a fingertip down and touched along the side of that opening, and again felt that delicious electrical sensation run through his body.
It had felt so good because he hadn't been touching a tear in a suit; he had been touching an opening in his own flesh.
Despite the fear that had been burning through his muscles, he still felt the residual sensation of having touched there before, he could still feel that warm sensation in his groin. Somewhat experimentally, he ran his finger along the length of that opening, on either side of it, and couldn't help but to let off a soft groan. It wasn't like anything he had felt before, not exactly, but it still felt good all the same. It felt better than good; it felt lovely. He couldn't help but to keep gently rubbing along that flesh, his finger tracing up and down till he felt it move over something that had not been there before.
His eyes glanced downward to watch his finger moving along the length of that opening, something cream colored having nestled itself inside and forcing the dark flesh on either side apart just a bit. When his fingers nudged over it, his body twitched involuntarily and the sensation running up his spine redoubled. It didn't take him too long to realize what it was, and his eyes widened a little bit as more of that creamy colored flesh started to slip out from the slit in his groin. It took only a moment before the tip cleared the slit in his flesh and worked its way up and out, Derek staring intently at the sight of his own penis, also having changed, working its way out of his body. Soon several inches of the gently tapering member was poking out, and curiosity got the best of him as he reached down and touched it with his fingers.
The sensation that overtook his body was beyond electric, the muscles up and down his torso quivering and tensing wildly, enough to make his body lurch forward. He kept himself from falling flat on his face by holding out his free hand, letting it stick in the sand as he propped himself up, groaning in spite of himself as he let his fingers slide around that length. The flesh was smooth and slightly slick, and his fingers curled around it easily. He gave himself a bit of a squeeze and again a rush of pleasure shot up his nerves straight to his brain. Nothing had ever felt like this before; nothing had ever even come close.
He took another deep breath to calm himself, leaning back so that he could sit back in the sand, feeling his big, thick tail splaying out on the beach behind him. It was a strange enough sensation itself, and he couldn't help but to take a look back at it over his shoulder. The strangest part of all was how quickly it was beginning to feel natural, like it had always been there. Fingers curled around his erection again, and his head leaned back to let a more deeply satisfied moan out into the air, competing with the sound of the waves against the shore.
Derek wasn't sure whether this was some kind of strange dream or not, but he didn't care. His hand began to stroke up and down over the thick member that he was grasping, sending another wave of pleasure running up and down his form. While it still felt just as good, he knew what to expect and was able to do it without pitching himself to the sand. He felt his toes wriggle and bury their way partway into the sand as he began to slowly stroke himself off, shivering at the sensation.
Briefly, he thought of his girlfriend back at home. Letting his eyes close, he imagined her standing there before him on the beach, stripping for him while he stroked himself in front of her. He imagined the way she would look, letting her bra flutter onto the sand and over her toes, her breasts heaving invitingly in front of her, before she would get down on her knees and lean in, kissing his tummy, wrapping her lips around his erection and taking into her warm maw. He could imagine how it would feel with her suckling on him, her body writhing before him, thick, beautiful tail swaying behind her.
Suddenly his eyes popped open. He had been imagining her not as herself, but like he was; transformed into some kind of weird human-orca hybrid, and it had been hot as hell. He panted in spite of himself and leaned his head back again, moaning into the air while his hips started to writhe, trying to thrust into his hand that was now quickly stroking up and down that length. The familiar sensation of tension and need began to build up in his loins, and he knew that it was going to happen soon.
He wanted to wait, wanted to hold on to the sensation, but he just could not stop himself. His muscles tensed further, straining a bit as he fought to last just another minute, another second, another blissful stroke longer, his eyes clamping shut as his whole body went rigid. It was just all too much for him, though, and with one final tug of his hand down to the thicker base of his member, he went right over the edge. A loud cry sounded forth from his beaky muzzle, his thick, broad tongue hanging out as his whole body was caught up in the throes of orgasm. Flukes smacked heavily on the sand behind him as his tail began to thrash, and a thick spray of spunk issued from the tip of his cock, arcing forward in a thick jet of heady, musky fluid.
Derek had experienced a good orgasm before; he had experienced a good many. Still, in the back of his mind, he tried to think of a time when it had felt this good, or even half this good, to come. As another wave of that climax raced through his loins and he tugged on himself, shooting yet more of that sticky fluid out onto the beach, he realized that he could not, for the life of him, think of anything that had felt nearly so good. He nearly fell to his back as his muscles began to go all twitchy, only the girth of his tail pressing on the sand helping to prop him up. With a low, loud groan, he let go of himself and threw his head back, letting himself sink into the blissful pleasure that was that climax.
It seemed to last forever, and yet he wanted it to go on for longer. Still, the rush of that pleasure was starting to calm down, the force of his body tensing and releasing into the air slowly beginning to abate. His eyes popped open again as his chest began to heave in deep, heavy breaths, trying to instinctively calm down.
Finally it was over, and he was left kneeling on the sand, panting and groaning. Spent, he slumped forward again, propping himself up on both hands to keep from going face first in the sand. He looked down and caught sight of the puddle that he had made, an enormous mess of whitish goo that refused to soak into the sand, just beyond the reach of the waves that were lapping at his flukes and further up along his tail. He hadn't realized that it had been so much of it. Curiously he leaned forward and inhaled of the scent, a heavy, musky aroma that seemed to trigger something in the back of his mind, making his body shudder and breathe out one last groan, forcing a last line of spunk from his member and dribbling down his flesh.
Held up like that, he looked down at his own erection and couldn't help but to grin. He was certainly a lot bigger than he was used to, as well. Surely it'd drive his girlfriend wild. He watched with curiosity as it began to retreat back into his genital slit, the sensation strange but not altogether unwelcome, but just as it hid itself away, there was another sound that made him freeze.
"Derek? Derek, is that you?" It was one of his friends, the voice somewhat distant over the sound of the waves but close enough to be heard. He had no idea how he would explain this kind of situation, or if they would even recognize him. Surely, they would have thought he was actually some kind of strange sea creature and taken off screaming, if not worse. With a cringe, he sat back up and looked over his shoulder.
The boat was not far from the shore now, probably about as close as it dared to come in the shallow water. Two of his friends had already leapt from the boat and were now wading their way up to the shoreline, their features lined with concern. "Holy shit, it is you," one of them said, fighting against the receding waters. "You okay man?"
Derek swallowed a deep breath and stood up, but nearly pitched forward. He realized he felt somehow front heavy, and turned around to look. His tail was no longer there. Surprised, he glanced at his hands, which looked just as they had at the beginning of the day, poking out of the sleeves of his wetsuit. He reached up and slapped his cheeks lightly, feeling the stubble of a couple of days without shaving. Had it all been a dream?
While he inspected himself, his friends had caught up to him. One of them stopped at his side and grasped him by the shoulder to steady him. "Take it easy, man, take it easy. You look out of it."
"What ... what happened?" Derek asked in confusion, blinking again.
His other friend looked over at his gear, and then back in his direction. "You took off without us and we couldn't catch up. That was hours ago," he said, looking slightly amazed. "We thought you were a goner."
Derek blinked again. "Hours?" He shook his head a little and leaned against the support of his friend. "No ... I had trouble breathing. Something wrong with the gear. I had to surface, but you were all gone."
His friend who was not holding himself up leaned over and hefted the air tanks, looking them over. "They're mostly full," he said. "Weird."
"Come on," the first friend said, urging him over toward the boat. "Let's get you outta here, make sure you're ok. I'm just glad we thought to look on this little island, but you're going to have to tell us how the hell you got way out here."
Derek nodded, dazed, as he stepped out into the lapping waves of the ocean. Perhaps he had merely passed out, and by some incredible luck, was washed up here on this shore instead of drowning. Perhaps the whole thing had been some kind of dream, some kind of hallucination, and he could just forget it all. He nodded to himself, albeit a little sadly, as he began to wade toward the boat.
"Ugh! What the hell?"
He turned to see his other friend, carrying the gear. The young man was scraping his foot on the sand, making a rather displeased face. "What the hell is this shit?"
Derek looked, and then his eyes widened. He realized that his friend had just stepped in that big puddle of goo that had been left behind in the sand. Curious, he glanced down at his wetsuit near his crotch. There was no sign that it had ever been torn or ripped, no sign of any slit there, but all the same his eyes did spot a line of something that had dripped downward toward his thigh. He reached down with a finger and scooped up a bit of it, lifting it up and inhaling.
The heady, musky scent made his senses buzz, and he nearly lost his balance. His friend grasped him more firmly again, telling him to take it easy, but all he could do was grin. It had been real, after all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I'm really sorry about that, boys. I had this stuff inspected just last weekend, there shouldn't have been any problems with it at all."
The old man looked truly apologetic, but it wasn't enough to placate the group of young men. "Some inspection," one of them said with a grunt. "My friend here damned near drowned because of your faulty shit!"
"Look," the man said, cringing. "I'm real sorry. I've already agreed to refund your entire rental cost. What more is there that I can do for you?"
A long moment of silence passed, the young men fuming. "Forget it," one of them said, stalking out of the shop. The others seemed to nod, one after another, turning back to glare angrily at the shopkeeper, though none of them spoke. The little bell on the door jingled several times as the group made their way back out of the shop, the old man cringing as each one of them went, although looking a little more relieved as they had gone.
Derek, however, stopped just shy of the door. He let it close in front of him before he turned, took a step back toward the counter and leveled a gaze at the old man.
"Look, I said I was sorry ..."
"I know," Derek said, resting his hands on the counter, fishing through the pile of wetsuits until he found the strangely patterned one, leaving it on the top, as he looked back up at the shopkeeper.
Again the old man swallowed, brushing back a stray lock of thin hair. "Oh, that," he said, chuckling nervously. "I'm sorry about that, too. I know it's kind of embarrassing but ... it really was the last one I had, I didn't have another one to ..."
Derek stopped him by raising a hand up and shaking his head. "You'd already told me that."
"You ..." the old man scratched the back of his head and looked like he might go pale a bit. "You aren't going to sue me, are you? Please, I really couldn't handle that, it'd break me, I'd have to close down the shop. I don't make much money as it is ... please, forgive me? Isn't there anything I can do to keep you from suing me? I'd do anything ..."
"Anything?" Derek leaned forward and looked at him intently.
The man swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Uh. Anything."
Derek looked back over his shoulder to make sure that none of his friends had come back in. Turning around, he tapped a finger to the wetsuit on the counter, a strange smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth as he finally spoke up. He knew exactly what it was that he wanted.
"I'll be taking this with me."