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 No.13050

Disclaimer: I don't endorse shark fin soup. That stuff is full of mercury and will fuck up your nervous system. Oh yeah, I don't endorse violence or crude objectification of women either.

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The boys called me up on deck to see what they had caught. It was a dolphin mermaid, all tangled up in the trawl nets. This was the first live one I had ever seen, and it looked like it had been through the wringer.

Dolphin mermaids resemble the fantasy mermaid. They look like humans merged with dolphins, covered with mottled dark grey skin, fins on their arms and backs, and more compact chests. This one's ghostly white hair had once been carefully braided with kelp. Now, it was a mess, unkempt with long neglect and clumped to its scalp with mud kicked up by the trawling. A plastic six pack ring was locked tightly around its throat. Pale raw marks on the skin indicated the strangling collar had decorated its host for many months, and the rings were misshapen where the mermaid had tried futilely to break them. Long white scars crisscrossed the dark skin on its back from past collisions with boats. Its flukes were in shreds, and a generous chunk of the left had been cleanly sliced off by a propeller.

The mermaid on the deck didn't seem to care what was happening to it. It rolled belly up, its pale creamy underside facing the sun, panting rapidly on top of a pile of dead fish. Its arms were twisted around its body, held in place by the tightly tangled netting. Disturbingly, the mermaid continued to wrap itself tighter with a manic smile plastered on its face, clearly drawing perverse pleasure from the feeling of net threads cutting into its flesh.

In the past, mermaid meat had been a delicacy, but now it was living garbage, chock full of bioaccumulated mercury, pesticides, lead, and whatnot. Immersed in toxic water from birth, eating diets of fish full of plastic steeped in unknown chemicals, the effects on their nervous systems were disastrous.

As soon as they reached puberty they often went crazy as their bodies lost the ability to handle the chemical cocktails festering in their blubber. Rejected by their clan pods and forced to fend for themselves, these exiles were chased into human waters, outside the protection of international mermaid treaties. Lonely, confused, victims of incomprehensible impulses, they usually ended up as beached corpses or shark food.

The boys were crowded around laughing, their phones filming as they poked at the mermaid with their hooks or nudged it with their galoshes, filming its struggles. One of them kicked at the dolphin mermaid's cloaca, and yelped as the slit parted, sucking in the toe of his boot. He scooted out of the way, leaving room for me to get a closer look.

The mermaid's vaginal slit was dripping slime copiously, probably the effects of chemicals tainting its body, telling it to be horny as fuck. The skin surrounding the slit was puffy and a deep shade of pink. I pried it open, then stuck my hand into the folds of flesh inside, letting them squeeze tightly around my fist.

"You like that?" I sneered. To my surprise, the mermaid met my gaze with black, bottomless eyes opened wide with bliss, motioning at me with grateful nods to continue. I guess being hopped up on chemical byproducts made mermaids kinky.

I groped deeper through the wetness, blindly feeling my way through its internal curves until I was elbow deep inside. When I put my other hand on its underbelly, I could feel its abdominal muscles twisting in pleasure underneath me. The mermaid squirmed excitedly, its eyes rolling back in its head while we sat together for long minutes. Its longing stare followed me around even after I finally withdrew my arm with a wet, sucking pop. My entire arm was coated in thick, grey mucus.

The boys all thought it would be a shame to throw it overboard so soon, given how...eager...it was, though no one else wanted to experience their own fishy insertion. We let it suck seductively on some frozen hot dogs while experimenting with how many beer cans we could fit inside. The mermaid crushed them open in its throes, sending beer blasting out in jets or oozing through the tightly wedged cans.

For safekeeping we hung the thing from the mast, laughing if it dripped onto anyone unlucky passing below. To counter the dehydrating effects of the sun on its body, I periodically splashed buckets of sea water on its body until it glistened as if we had just dragged it from the ocean.

At sunset, I lowered the mermaid to the deck. It was dazed and obviously glad for nightfall, but still alive. I held some fish to its lips, which it snapped at with small, serrated teeth and swallowed whole. While the mermaid relaxed in my lap, I carelessly dangled my fingers into its slit, letting it kiss them with clenched muscles.

I opened a video on my phone and held it over the mermaid's head for it to watch. It was the video of our fisting session yesterday, graciously shared with me by the boys (I was definitely keeping that forever!). The mermaid seemed oddly familiar, even pleased with the concept of a device that played back the past, snuggling itself wildly against me as the video brought back vivid memories of its penetration. I wondered whether humans had traded electronics with its home pod, and whether they had wireless. Maybe that was how it learned my language.

I lowered my head next to its own, and whispered, "Hey, since I plan to upload the video to the internet, do you think your old pod will get to watch their exile fuck an entire human arm at some later date?" The mermaid's pale gray skin actually flushed red with embarassment as it averted its gaze from mine, but the squelching and increased flow of slime from its slit gave away how much the thought turned it on.

At a certain point in the video, the mermaid tapped the screen with its nose, pausing the video and leaving a wet smear. It was at a point where the recorder had moved behind the mermaid, capturing the full extent of the scars on its back. As the mermaid watched, possibly seeing the full extent of this damage for the first time, tears rolled from its eyes.

An idea occurred to me, and I rolled the mermaid underbelly down. It twisted its neck as much as it could, but the netting prevented it from getting a good view of what I was doing as I climbed on top of its back. One of its arms was held fast to its back by the netting. I grabbed its hand, so that our fingers intertwined. They closely resembled my human ones, except that they were somewhat more webbed, and the lower two fingers were missing joints, perhaps bitten off by a bigger predator.

My face was now inches from the mermaid's skin, and I could smell its flesh, salty, briny, and rank. I dipped my tongue to the intersection of two scars and licked. A great shudder through through the cetacean I was mounting as my warm breath met ragged nerve ends close to the surface of the old wounds.

"Poor, broken dolphin girl, dragged onto our cold deck to die." I rested my face on its back, breathing into its scars as it trembled with shame and ecstacy. I stroked the missing chunk of its flukes, folded up against its back by the netting.

"You hurt so much, you're half insane because you live and breathe melted plastic and fertilizer. I bet your stomach's lined with beads. Thank you for coming to me to die your cute death." I rubbed the edge of my hand against its slit, and it humped me desperately.

Before I went to sleep, I powwowed with the boys on what to do with our strange catch.

Standard procedure would be to just cut off the good fins (something about mermaid fin soup giving long life and erections, mercury be damned), save as much of the netting and catch as necessary, and toss the rest back into the ocean. Unable to swim or free itself, the mermaid would probably sink to the bottom and either drown or starve to death, buried in mud as the sediment disturbed by our trawling settled out.

In the dawn I woke up to the boys about to slide the mermaid over the side. Blood stained the deck where they had already sliced off the mermaid's left arm fin. The boys held it down well, and with the net, she couldn't do anything to stop them.

It stared up at me with a pleading look, eyes misted over with pain. Foam leaked from around the gag in its mouth - a common practice, since the cries of mermaids in pain are disturbingly similar to those of human women.

I merely stood there, ignoring the few muffled chirps it made as it was rolled over, the other pectoral fin slowly sawed off with rough, jagged cuts, then the pathetic shreds of her flukes removed as well. Finally, I motioned to the man with the knife to hand it over.

I crawled myself on top of the mermaid's back, pushing it down with my weight, feeling its entire musculature rippling under me, instinctively trying to swim away. I seized a handful of its matted hair, forcing its head backwards so that we stared into each other's eyes.

"You're going to be thrown back into the sea once your last fin is gone, because your worthless corpse ain't even worth bringing back as dog food. The salt will burn your wounds agonizingly. You'll try to swim, but the net will stop you from moving your arms or body too much, and you won't be able to push against the water without your fins.

"You'll sink down, down, better pray our boat won't hit you on the way. You'll come to rest on the bottom, panicking, as you're slowly buried in sand over the course of hours, helpless, unable to free yourself. You'll lie there blind, tasting our gag in your mouth, your body twisting in pain.

"If you're unlucky, scavengers will begin digging their claws into your living carcass before you suffocate."

The mermaid's eyes pooled with resignation as my words sank in and it came to terms with its fate. It flashed me a wide, enigmatic teeth-filled smile. As I roughly cut away at its remaining fin, I felt the ripples of one last masochistic mermaid orgasm flood through its body under me.

I completely misinterpreted everything. It didn't want me to spare it. It was happy to be harvested and have its used-up carcass thrown away, and maybe even got caught on purpose, anticipating our cruelty. To its fucked up senses, pain and death were pleasure and release. At the end, it was merely pleading for me to be the one mutilating it.

We filled the mermaid's cloaca with empty beer cans, letting it crush them so that it would feel the metal inside in its final moments. Finally, we sealed it shut with glue and kicked it, inch by inch off the side.

"Bye pretty fish. You got the cruel death you wanted."

There was a splash. I watched the bubbles rising to the surface from where it sank until they slowly ceased. You can't save all the starfish that wash up on the beach.

[Only continue reading if you want the Mermaid to live]

I had no choice, after all, since thanks to the treaties, it's illegal to keep sapient mermaids as pets, but hypocritically okay to abandon them to "nature" in international waters. I definitely didn't take pity on it before we condemned it to a painful death, and shove the mermaid in a tiny cooler full of ice water so that it could survive the trip back to the mainland. I most emphatically did not customize a massive dildo to stretch it out while I took a trip to the pub. And you can't prove any of those "Foamy the Mermaid Pain Slut" videos making the rounds have anything to do me.

So chums, if you're asking if I'm a filthy dolphin fucker who keeps a masochistic cetacean porn star tied up in my bathtub, I'm gonna have to say no.

 No.13061

Great story! Thanks.

 No.13064

Love it! Oooh I wanna hear more stories of foamy the dolphin porn star! ;)

 No.13072

fucking love it.

gota love demented pollution poisoned painsluts

 No.13080

>>13061
>>13064
>>13072

Thank you so much for reading! I'm still thinking about where to go, or whether to continue with the story. It felt self-contained when I wrote it, but we'll see :)

 No.13082

>>13080
Definitely good self contained story, yet a sequel would be good!



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