A Shell Cracking
Setting: Earth.Ships: Unnamed Male Humans / Israh.
Characters: Israh (m merfolk, shark).
Setting: Earth.Ships: Unnamed Male Humans / Israh.
Characters: Israh (m merfolk, shark).
He had been.... Been... Eating. He thought he had been eating. He had been catching crabs and clams and eating them. At least that was what he thought he had been doing.
So why was he now staring up at the sky, laying on his back, arms trussed together against his chest with some sort of thin, slippery rope? What had happened? How much time was missing, and what had happened during that time?
The water of the shallows lapped at his tail, the sand coarse against his skin, and somehow he was just barely able to get air in his gills. He was drowsy, and he was confused.
While Israh was a denizen of the shallower waters, he had never had the urge to lay on his back near the banks of the beach. With his arms stuck together. Why were his arms stuck together? What sort of weird rope was it, anyway? Whatever it was, Israh wanted out of them.
His teeth were difficult to fit in beneath the thin slippery rope and his wrists, but eventually he managed, and once he did, his sharp teeth easily pierced the material. It tasted yucky on Israh’s tongue. It stuck to his skin, and was painful to pull off. Still, he did, and he placed his palms against the sand.
He found himself unable to push himself into a sitting position.
Panicked, Israh scrambled, struggling several distressed minutes to get up until he realised he was thoroughly stuck. It was his fin. Something was somehow locking it in place. His hands shot back, digging at the sand. It was heavy, soaked with water as it was, and it took several long moments for the shark merman to register that he had stopped scratching at sand, and instead had reached something rough and concrete. He paused, forcing himself to take as deep a breath as he was able. It was sputtering, the water not properly soaking his gills and his lungs not made for breathing above the surface for so long or strenuously. But somehow, he managed to calm just a little, just enough.
Israh’s fingers searched for the edges of the heavy stonework that seemed to hold him in place. It was difficult, with the angle of the thing being at the center of his back. Encasing his dorsal fin and keeping him trapped. The block was big, coarser than the rough sand. As time passed and he couldn't seem to free himself, the panic started to return.
And then came the sound of voices. Human words, human laughter. Israh’s panic grew rapidly, and his meticulous careful digging turned frantic. The voices grew closer, and he stopped being able to think anything but flee, flee, flee! while being unable to follow that instinct, even as he started to pull and push, ignoring the pain shooting through him from his trapped fin.
"I thought you said you'd taped it up?" one of the voices said, a dim sound barely breaking past the panic. "I did," another said. "Must've gotten out while I got you."
Dry hands lacking webbing between the fingers caught Israh’s wrists. Water sloshed around human ankles. Israh fought back, struggling against the grip of the humans. It was a losing battle for Israh, as the weird flat rope was once more wound around his arms. This time, it was wound not only around his lower arms, but up over his elbows and past his bloodied fingertips and broken claws. It twisted his shoulders, tearing at them uncomfortably, almost painfully. Israh snapped his teeth toward the humans, and felt them close around something that drew blood into his mouth. There was a scream, and a painful blow to his head. Israh’s grip loosened, and flesh tore out of his mouth.
"Fuck! It bit me! You said they don't bite!" The taste of blood started to clear Israh’s head a little, making the words less clouded. "No, I said blacktips only bite if provoked. Obviously she's gonna be provoked by this." There was a weird sound and something hitting the water. "Whatever, just cover that shit up, or I ain't goin' near it." A laugh. "More for me then," the amused of the two humans said. "I'll hold 'em shut so you tape." Silence. "Fine, you hold, I tape. C'mon."
Hands clamped down on Israh’s head, a tight, painful grasp. Legs straddled his chest, pressing him deeper into the sand. Israh thrashed, twisting his head to escape. He succeeded once, twice, before a sharp kick at his head dazed him. It allowed the human to hold him in place, and the other wielded that weird sticky rope. It plastered like wet seaweed over Israh’s mouth, wounding around his head tightly. It kept his mouth shut, even after the human holding him in place released him. Israh heard a wet thump and a deep sigh of relief through the mist of once more growing panic. "Fuck. Fix me up, you psycho." The human with the roll of sticky rope got up off of Israh’s body. "You've had worse in training, you wimp." It was said with a laugh.
Both humans ignored Israh, who thrashed against the bindings around his arms and over his mouth. With his claws encased he couldn't scratch at the rope over his mouth. With his teeth covered he couldn't bite at the rope around his arms. With his dorsal fin still stuck in the stone buried in the sand, he couldn't flee to the ocean to seek help from his shoal.
"You try gettin' bit by a fucking shark, dipshit." Israh could still hear the voices bicker in friendly and grumbled tones, though he didn't really discern the words. The waves of water and sand from his struggles washed over the lowest tones of them, until he, exhausted, stilled in the shallows. "Finally tired herself out, huh."
"About that. Mate, I think it looks too flat to be a chick."
"Whatever, she's too pretty to be a dude. I mean, just look at her."
A hand roughly grasped at Israh’s chin, twisting his face so that he for the first time actually looked upon the humans. They were large, bulky, and disproportionate.
"You seen a dude look like this? No dude can look like this, not without a shit-ton of make-up, man."
Israh glared as best he could, which, honestly, wasn't very good at all. Much like most others of his kind, he was easily startled, and didn't like confrontation. His silvery eyes, filled with a variety of hues, carried fear in them. His shoulders, as moonlight pale as his chest and belly, smoothly slipping down his underside, were raised against the bindings in an effort to make himself look smaller and more pitiful, like something not worth eating. Gray cascaded across his back’s skin, painting him the colour of the water on a slightly clouded day. Ripples of the pale white drew his fins into focus, ending in black tips much like the wet hair did around his shoulders. The angrier of the humans drew in a sharp breath.
"I mean... Yeah sure it's pretty as hell, but that chest is totally flat."
"Eh." The human holding Israh’s face pressed deeper into his jaw bone, before releasing him. "Mermaid, merman, same shit. What-fucking-ever when she looks gorgeous, right? Or what, you sayin' she's not good for it? You scared it's gonna turn you gay?"
"I'm not gay, man. But right, yeah, what the hell. It is hella pretty."
Israh saw the amused human hit the angry human in the back with an open hand. "You got that right. Let's get this party started."
"Sure. Just one thing before that."
"What's it this time, dude?"
"It's definitely gonna whack us with its tail if we don't do anything about that." Another silence. "Huh. Yeah, she will. Alright, I got an iron-bar in the car, I'm gonna go fetch't."
The amused human walked off, leaving Israh struggling against his bindings with only the angry human still there. It made Israh nervous, even more than before, and he put more effort into his attempt at escaping his binds once more.
"You're not gonna get away, buddy," the human said. It crouched down by Israh’s side, digging its fingers into the sand to feel around for a few moments. "You got an iron stick through your fin and it's stuck to a large clump 'o cement. No way you're gettin' outta that on your own."
A hand approached Israh’s face, and on fear-driven instinct, he lashed forward. He was stopped by the rock at his back, and the rope covering his mouth. The human still flinched its hand back, also by instinct. Israh saw the arm wrapped in that sticky rope, but it looked bulky and only covered one arm, allowing the human its mobility. He could see blood on the human’s skin, and knew he must have bitten it there during the struggle before. The human remembered that Israh was both trapped and unable to bite, and it laid its hand on Israh’s face.
It was an unpleasant feeling, to be stroked by the scale-free hand. He turned his head, only to whimper in pain as the other hand grasped at his hair and forced him to be still. "You really are a pretty little thing," the human said. "I'm not gay, but I'd fuck you anyway." The hand not in his hair stroked downward, along Israh’s cheek and down his throat. Fingers slid over Israh’s gills, and when they continued to brush over the natural gashes there, Israh froze. He shuddered, the fear immobilizing him as the fingers started to trace the openings. "Would these be like a blowjob? Your mouth's off limits for that, and it's such good stuff." The human sighed, a dreamy sort of sound that sounded off with how the angry human hadn't shown any sort of positive emotions before. "I gotta try that, for sure."
"Hey dude, hold down her tail," a nearing voice said, drawing the angry human’s touch away from Israh’s gills. The shivering in his body increased with relief. He hadn't liked the tone in the human’s voice, or the exploring ways the fingers just barely avoided dipping in between Israh’s folds.
The human got up, and moved down Israh’s body as the amused human returned. The angry human took hold of Israh’s tail. The amused human held a long metal stick in its hand, and when Israh saw the pointy end on it, saw the way the amused human measured his tail with its eyes, a new coldness filled Israh. He started thrashing, desperate to get away. The angry human was heavy, and despite Israh’s bucking, it remained seated on his tail.
Heat burst through Israh’s body from his tail and up; Israh’s howl of pain was muffled by the slippery rope covering his mouth.
The metal rod had pierced Israh’s skin, was pressing deeper and deeper. The wound gaped wider with Israh’s frantic thrashes, yet sunk deeper nonetheless. It went all the way through, the hammer striking the top making dull clangs of wood on metal, echoing over the sound of tearing flesh and splashing water. The stake buried in the heavy sand. The hammer fell to the beach with a wet thud once the human wielding it was finally pleased. Pain shook Israh’s body, and he pleaded wordlessly to be released from the torture.
The humans cruelly ignored his cries, the amused one helping the angry one back up on his feet. Israh lay twitching in the shallows, unable to keep fighting.
"All good now?" the amused one asked of the angry one, who nodded. "Yeah, it won't be able to do much now."
"Right then." The two humans loomed over Israh, unbothered by his tear-streaked face and the agony written across it. "Let's find your mer pussy, girlie." The amused one said, and the angry one huffed. "I still think it's a merman, but whatever. I already found a pussy to fuck, while you get your psycho fantasies on."
"Yeah? What pussy'd you find? It sure ain't the one in her face."
The angry one crouched back down beside Israh’s shoulder, and Israh flinched when its thumb stroked Israh’s gills. "These here look like pussy lips good 'nough, I'd say."
The amused one, moving further down to slide to a seat on Israh’s wounded tail fin, barked out a laugh. "And you call me the psycho, you sick fuck. Whatever, dude, I'm gonna have my fun. Gonna take you a while to get it up, anyway."
"As if you know shit about how long it takes for me to get hard, asswipe. 20 bucks if I put it in first."
"No slack cocks, dude, or it's cheating."
"I ain't dumb, shitstain."
“I doubt that, but you got a deal."
Israh, with blank, wide eyes and blurred vision, stared at the humans. His gaze darted between them, between the way the angry human pulled off his clothes to show a large gut and absurd, dangling bits between its legs, between the way the amused human pulled open the front of the fabric below its heavy belly to pull out a floppy serpent. The angry human grasped its own snake, stroking it and watching Israh, watching his gills with a terrifying intensity. The amused human kept one hand on its snake, which disappeared out of sight as it leaned forward.
Lips pressed against Israh’s thick skin, and a heavy, warm tongue that felt like a leech ran a slow path along Israh’s tail fin. He squirmed uncomfortably, and flinched to the other side when his arm bumped against one of the angry human’s knees. He whimpered quietly, wanting the two to stop what they were doing.
What were they even doing? Why were they-- the tongue found a cool cavern, and behind the rope, Israh let out a startled cry. Israh knew then what they- what the amused one at least, wanted. He struggled once more, trying to ignore the pain from the stake through his fin and the pain in his dorsal fin. It was no surprise that he had no success, since during his previous tries he had not lost so much blood, or exhausted himself already.
The tongue delved deeper, finding the head of Israh’s cock where it was hidden inside its sheathe. A hand pressed into his hip, and he was pressed into the sand by an overpowering strength. He vaguely heard the amused human mutter words, but instead of catching what they meant, the vibration of them reverberated inside of Israh. He'd experienced mouths on his privates before, but not like this, and he hated it, hated it, hated it! Intercourse between shark mers was gentler, more considerate, because they always had to be mindful of their teeth. The humans were showing the opposite, acting cruel the same way dolphins would, toying with their prey with no regard for any harm they might cause.
"What? Found a cock down there after all? Told ya so, man." It was the angry human, its hands still working on its snake, now slimy and shining unpleasantly. The angry human was the one sounding amused, now. The amused human huffed, now the one being angry. It sat back, its weight shifting further down on Israhs tail, and painfully pulling at the wound in it. "Yeah yeah, but since it won't come out, it might's well be a cunt." Realisation dawned on Israh as he saw the formerly-amused human shift, rising up on its knees a bit to angle its large, engorged red snake at Israh’s slit. Isra thrashed, and it was pure luck, he knew, that he managed to buck the human off and into the water. The formerly-amused human sputtered, while the formerly-angry human laughed. Israh tried to yell at them to let him go, but his words went as unheard as before.
Something caught Israh’s eye as he fought against all the bindings, a movement different from the humans shifting around him. Greys and whites, and Israh could see other mers, other blacktips, watching. He couldn't see their expressions, his vision was clouded by pain and panic, but he could tell when they noticed he had seen them, as they skittered away into the water. Cowards, the whole bunch. But he knew that so was he. It was a trait they all shared, a trait that usually would keep them safe. It hadn't kept Israh safe, not this time.
A hand clasped Israh’s shoulder, slimy wet fingers slid across the slits of his gills. Water sloshed over the point of contact as he tried to still struggle to no avail. With fear making him feel sick rolling through him, Israh saw the formerly-angry human near with its throbbing snake first out. Its cock, Israh had understood, somehow; the placement and attentions toward those vile red flesh snakes made it clear that those things were human cocks. The slimy thing slid across Israh’s row of gills, and Israh thrashed wildly.
A sharp flash of pain seared through him, and behind the rope he let out a yell of pain.
"That's what y'get for not stayin' still, you weird-ass fish. Keep at it and I'll break your other shoulder, too."
Israh whimpered, shaking with pain. He could taste blood in his mouth again, but he knew that this time, it was his own and not from one of the assailants holding him down.
He had stopped focusing on the formerly-amused human in favour of cowering from the formerly-angry one. His attention snapped back as he felt a prodding at his slit, and he saw its vicious cock press against the opening hiding his own cock. He tried to plead, but once more his focus shifted as the formerly-angry human again pressed its thick snake against Israh’s gills. Fingers spread apart two of the gills, allowing the tip of the dripping cock to press against the opening.
All Israh knew then was pain, as he was invaded with no regard to the feasibility of the penetrations.
He gagged around the cock invading his gills, pressing into his filtering system. The thick thing spread open what absolutely shouldn't be spread open, with agony that had Israh screaming mindlessly. The other human’s cock, pressing into his slit and invading the space where only Israh’s own cock should be, stretched the skin of Israh’s insides and rubbed against the slack cock hiding away there. It wasn't as painful, not really, but there was little distinguishing one agony from the other in Israh’s muddled mind. Pain was pain, and it was as though he knew nothing else.
Their thrusts were uneven, not matching up with the other’s and that made it all worse, the unpredictability of it, the inability it caused to brace for another sharp stab of terrible pain. The humans grunted above Israh, pumping their cocks deep, pulling them out to the lips of the entrances they abused, shoving them back in with no regard for how Israh suffered. The stimulation of his cock was there, a frustration had Israh been able to even register it; it was not nearly enough to distract from the pain even a little bit. Israh didn't even register that his agonised thrashing had made one of the humans break his other shoulder in punishment.
But he did notice the blood. It flooded his mouth from his broken snout. He gagged on the flow of it, unable to properly swallow it down with the way the formerly-angry human pressed his throat shut with its thick cock and fingers finding those on the other side.
It should have invigorated him to feel blood on his tongue, but it did the opposite to him now. He felt powerless. He already had, but there was something about feeling his throat convulse around his own blood that solidified it, forcing him to give up.
Israh stopped thrashing, stopped struggling, stopped screaming. All he knew was numbness, and a feeling of relief that though he felt his body shift with the humans' thrusts, he had stopped feeling it. He couldn't even feel the grains of sand on his back, the tugging at the wounds in his fins, any more. There was nothing, as he with glazed eyes stared up at the blue sky. Thin lines of whine clouds spotted its vast canvas. He couldn't breathe, but his mind didn't register that, either.
Everything was simply emptiness, and the sound of the humans grunting in pleasure as they violated Israh’s failing body.
There was a searing hot sensation then, after how long, Israh didn't know, but it was a sensation, and he hated it. The human fucking the side of his throat was panting, bending over and digging its fingers deeper in the gills on Israh’s other side, a terrible expression on its face. Cumming. It was cumming. Israh could taste it on his tongue, though he barely registered that to do that, the human must have torn open the walls to flood his food pipe.
Another scream ripped through Israh, but it was torn, his vocal chords shredded to almost nothing.
He could barely even tell that the other human had reached its climax as well.
From blissful nothing, everything was simply pure agony once more.
The human by Israh’s side collapsed to the ground, splashing up some water that trickled down Israhs broken water ways. The other human collapsed on top of him, still slowly humping his ruined slit.
"Who won?" one said. The other made a noncommittal sound. "Neither. Both." A groan.
"A fucking draw? Damn it."
"Wanna rematch?"
"In a bit."
Israh would have panicked, but he knew that he wouldn't need to know about that. The blessed numbness was returning, and the sky was fading from his view. He wouldn't be there for the rematch.