Her Contract Enatails Ch. 02

"Drain the bag," Pickford's words were acted upon and the liquid slowly drained from around Carla's lower limbs, a small supply of air being reintroduced at the same time in order to keep the plastic from adhering too tightly to her flesh and thus spoiling the shape of her legs. Once the liquid had been completely drained, the assistants gently released the seal and eased the entire thing off the patient's body.

Now it was Pickford's turn to begin work and he set to his task with silent devotion.

Firstly he paid attention to Carla's feet, plucking the nails from her toes one by one with a pair of tweezers and dropping them onto a tray held by an assistant shadowing his every move. The nails came away with no resistance or loss of blood, as if the effects of the liquid had simply melted their connection to her body.

Pickford discarded his tweezers and pulled off his surgical gloves. Though he knew he should have kept them on his hands, he compared himself to a potter at the wheel and revelled in the chance to feel the flesh of his patient as he worked. He pinched each of her toes, squashing them out of shape and then moulding them together into the mass of her foot so that in a matter of minutes there was no trace of the individual digits whatsoever. Carla's feet simply ended in a blunt wedge as though the individual digits had never existed in the first place.

The doctor did not pause, but instead proceeded to press both of Carla's feet down until they were in line with her calves. Bones that should have protested at his reshaping of her feet made no effort to resist and soon the definition of her heels had been lost as he smoothed them into the soles as he had done the toes before them.

The blunt points that now represented the end of Carla's legs came together in Pickford's hands as he pressed their flesh together firmly. Rather than remain separate, the altered substance of her extremities yielded like the clay it resembled, the two distinct parts melding into one as his fingers smoothed over the gap between them.

He moved quickly on to the calves above her feet, paying the same attention to the flesh and kneading one limb into the other so that with every inch me progressed, ever more of the distinction between her legs was lost. All the time he took more care to preserve the shape of Carla's legs than he had done with her feet, keeping the outline intact while the independence of each limb was fast being lost.

Pickford continued his progress as he reached her knees and then her thighs, pressing the malleable flesh into one and smoothing over the join between the legs. His efforts came to a halt at the point where the bag had been sealed around Carla's legs, the extent of her body that had been exposed to the liquid. Above that point her flesh refused to yield to his hands and instead he paid attention to the task of shaping the transition between the two now distinct portions of her body so that one seemed to flow into the other.

Following the doctor's instructions, two of his assistant gently rolled Carla onto her side and then her stomach, taking care to keep their hands away from the altered flesh of her legs. Once she was in place, Pickford repeated his smoothing and massaging from her heels all the way to the back of her thighs. His hands worked away at inch after inch of Carla's legs until he had succeeded in blending them into a single limb.

As the assistant rolled Carla onto her back once more, Pickford fussed over a piece of equipment that stood at the same height as the operating table and resembled a casket of highly polished metal perhaps four feet in length. The thing was wheeled across the floor on four castors and opened to reveal an interior of black ceramics. This was shaped to accommodate the lower body of a human being, but lacking any distinction for the limbs and instead more closely resembling the shape into which Carla's legs had been moulded.

A delicate dance now took place in which the doctor and his assistants supported Carla's lower body while the section of the operating table upon which it had been laid was folded out from underneath. As swiftly as possible, the new piece of equipment was wheeled into its place and the altered portion of Carla's body guided into the bottom half of the device and the lid pressed down on top. There was a faint hiss as the casket sealed itself shut and began to rapidly increase in temperature, the effects of the heat and pressure that it was generating upon Carla's flesh hidden from view beneath the device that swallowed her completely below the waist.

Carla woke with a start from a dream in which a revolting little crab had been badgering her about some flaw in her nature that seemed to be a big issue with the rest of the aquatic population, most of whom she was more than happy to tell to go to hell. But the little bastard would not take the hint and the whole thing had degenerated into a lecture on morals thinly veiled behind a depressing musical number. There really had been no other choice but to smash the crustacean into pulp with a nearby rock, but as she blanked out his ever weaker cries for mercy, she had realised with a great sense of relief that it had all been the product of her slumbering mind.

The room was dark and it took a few moments for her to recall that she was laid in bed, alone in her room at the clinic. Suddenly aware she had no idea of the time, Carla made to turn over and search out the clock that stood on the bedside table.

It was only when she turned onto her side that she noticed the unfamiliar sensations as she moved her lower body. There was no sudden panic or fear that she had been paralysed due to the fact that she could feel every inch of her legs beneath the covers of the bed. The feeling was more akin to being restrained somehow, as though a blanket had become wrapped around her in the night and was now preventing her from moving.

Carla reached the table and flipped on the lamp, the clock forgotten as she fumbled with the duvet so that she could see what state she had managed to get into. It was not uncommon for her to toss and turn in her sleep as nightmares assailed her and the multitude of problems in her life preyed on her unconscious mind and so the odd feeling of restricted movement did not worry her in the slightest.

But as she pulled the covers back, Carla vaguely recalled that it was the middle of the summer and the weather had been nothing but warm days giving way to nights that left one reluctant to sleep beneath anything that could be cast aside. There was no way that she would have even contemplated adding a single sheet to her bedclothes under such circumstances, so just where had the one entangling her legs come from?

Carla's memory came flooding back to her as she laid eyes upon the thick grey stocking that covered her body from the waist down. Of course there was no blanket tangling her legs, she was one day into the process of becoming a mermaid and that was bound to entail some loss of the movement she was used to.

At least on the surface her thoughts were so calm and collected.

There was a surge of panic building beneath the surface in her mind as she pulled herself into a sitting position and placed her hands on the surface of the stocking. Carla fought to control her emotions and instead tried to focus on the reality of her situation, pondering the fact that while she was visibly bound tight by the stocking, something about the sensation of moving her lower body hinted that it was not the piece of clothing itself that was responsible for her feeling of being restrained.

She lifted the edge of the fabric, just below her navel and was surprised to see that her stomach seemed to continue beneath the stocking for a few inches at least. She had been steeling herself to see a mass of scales replacing her skin, but there was nothing that looked to have changed as she rolled the stocking inch by inch down her thighs.

Carla thought back over her consultation with Pickford on the day before the operation had begun. Had he not told her that the entire process would take around three days to complete? That would have explained why she had woken up without scales and fins, but not why she was wearing the most unflattering piece of hosiery ever invented and feeling as though her legs had been glued together.

But then perhaps that was just what had happened while she was asleep.

Carla had continued to roll down the stocking as she contemplated her condition and now she was no more than a third of the way down her thighs, staring at the first visible proof of the fact that she had been physically altered at the hands of Pickford and his craft.

Beneath the stocking, it had become apparent that she was quite naked with her groin exposed to the light as it was wound down. But an inch or two below her crotch, the definition of her legs was simply lost from sight as the two limbs melted into one another and became a single appendage. Carla traced the curve of her legs as they framed her vagina in a downward triangle before becoming one mass of smoothed and featureless flesh.

Now she began to push the stocking down with a reckless haste and soon the entire thing was bunched around her ankles, revealing the fact that the change was uniform for the entire length of what had once been her legs.

Carla twisted her body and simply stared at the changes that had been made to her lower half, experimenting with the range of motion that the new shape afforded her. She managed to point the rounded end of the single limb slightly upwards, oddly more disturbed by the absence of her toes than the loss of her legs. Her experiments furnished her with the knowledge that she was basically able to move her altered limb in the way she could have done the legs that it replaced had they been bound together tightly so that they could not be separated. She doubted that what remained of her feet could have supported her if she tried to stand, but then she supposed that she need not be concerned with such things in her new state of being.

So, she thought, this is pretty much a rehearsal for the finished product. When the transformation was complete and she was for all intents and purposes a mermaid, this was the body she was going to have to come to terms with.

Rolling around on the bed and pulling her new limb this way and that, Carla tried to balance the restrictions that were all too apparent while she was on land with the advantages that she supposed she would have in what would be her native element. With a tail and fins, she would be liberated once she managed to submerge herself in the water. The thought held a strange appeal, the source of which she could not be sure she knew, but all the same she was aware of a newfound longing for the freedom of open waters.

Carla was somewhat surprised to see that she had been allowed to keep her humanity to a degree that meant she could still see her own genitals. She spent some considerable time probing and experimenting, finding that the very tops of her legs had indeed been left out of her transformation and she could slip her fingers between them with a bit of effort. It seemed that despite the fact she was becoming a mermaid, she would still be able to use a bathroom like anyone else.

She realised almost at once that this could only have been one of the stipulations that Lister had ensured was a part of her transformation. He had made it abundantly clear to Carla that she was intended to be a plaything for his amusement and gratification. With a tail that started a few inches down the thighs, he intended to have the best of both worlds with a mermaid that was his personal property and also easily taken when the mood took him.

There was a full length mirror standing in the corner of the room and Carla stretched herself out on the bed, taking time to contemplate her reflection as she reclined. She had stripped off all of her clothes so as to take in the full extent of the changes made to her body, trying to reconcile the shapely mass of dark skin that spread out before her eyes.

The sight reminded her vaguely of a story she had read when she was young, about a kind of fairy women who wore the skins of seals while in the sea and stripped them off to become human and walk the stony shores of the Scottish coast. They were well known for seducing men and slipping away into the sea at night, but could be bound to stay if the man in question found their enchanted seal skin and prevented the his enchanted lover from leaving.

Carla allowed herself a daydream in which she was a creature who melted into a seal below the waist, swimming to and fro along a rocky beach. She pictured the cold spray washing over her slippery skin as she fell a little more into sleep with every passing minute.

Her mind wandered, looking for the man that she would seduce with her shapely body and exotic nature.

The face of her husband was fading into obscurity faster than she was aware, the face of Aubrey Lister had become a talisman of dread and resentment and Henry existed in her mind as more of a lumbering bull seal as her fantasy intertwined with her memories.

In her mind, Scotland was not a place of mundane reality, but rather a fairy tale land where creatures like the one she imagined herself to be could haunt the remote shores. The people of this land were pale of skin and odd of character and she fixed upon the idea of seducing just such a man. He would be so different from the men she had known as a human being, but then she had become such a different creature that it only seemed fitting to embrace a lover that matched her in his unfamiliar nature.

Unbidden the image of the kind and retiring Doctor Pickford entered her thoughts; tall, thin and almost white in colour, he walked barefoot down the early morning beach she had conjured in her mind. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, as if hearing or more likely sensing that something was amiss, his head turning this way and that as he scanned the sands.

Carla watched from her perch atop a rocky outcrop, regarding him with an expression of unashamed and open interest as his eyes fell upon her. She imagined herself naked, wet from the salt surf that crashed around her, bare breasts showing the effects of the chill morning air. Hands so heavily webbed that they almost resembled the flippers of a seal idly stroked the point where her dark skin gave way to the sleek coat covering her lower half.

His neck was long and thin, allowing her to see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Carla could almost imagine the sound of his blood rising as his heart beat faster, pulsing in his ears and feel her own match the speed as she instinctively adjusted to the rhythms of his body. As his eyes lingered on her, wide and full of surprise, she knew within moments that she had him and that he would not flee from that spot for all the wealth in the world.

She beckoned him forward with one of her webbed hands, all the time keeping his gaze locked on her. And heavens help him; he came at her call, one step after another until he stood so close that his trembling fingers brushed the erect nipples of her breasts. At that contact between them, Carla pressed herself forwards, cupping his groin in hand and meeting his mouth that was still open in stunned silence with her own.

The taste of salt was on her lips as she felt his hands close around her body and begin to lift her into the air, cradling her in his arms. His clothes were soaked from the moisture that covered her bare skin, but neither of them seemed to care, each intent upon exploring the body of the other.

Carla was aware of the strength in his arms; sure that he could have held her aloft for some time longer. So when he began to lower her into the shallow waves that moved in and out over the sand, she showed no resistance to his efforts, knowing that the last thing he intended to do was halt his attentions.

He laid her upon her back and straddled her in the stony sand and watched as she reached for his flies, fumbling with digits not intended for such a delicate task in her haste to have him as close to her as she was able. Sensing her urgency, he aided her without making her efforts seem clumsy or unwelcome.

Once he was free, Carla turned onto her belly and waited for the wonderful feeling of his weight pressing her gently into the sand.

He laid over her, hands reaching around to cup her breasts and his lips finding her neck.

She angled her head backwards, seeking for his lips once more and at first he teased her by keeping just out of her reach. Carla let out a gasp of mock frustration and made to snap at him, playfully returning his little tease.

He rewarded her by kissing her boldly and with a passion that she had doubted he was capable of, her hand grabbing his cheek to hold his lips in place.

At the same time she felt the brush of his penis, no more than an moment away from what she wanted. His skin met the sleek fur of her buttocks and she urged him onwards in her mind.

And then she woke.

Carla tried to bring her breathing under control as she struggled to unravel herself from the sheets.

As she scrabbled for the clock on the bedside table, she wondered what was worse; knowing that she was mere hours away from becoming a mermaid or facing Pickford with the lingering memory of her vivid dream still fresh in her mind.

The effect of the anaesthetic had already begun to blur Carla's perception of her surroundings by the time she laid eyes on Pickford. He greeted her with characteristic enthusiasm and pleasantries, but she found that she was either unwilling or unable to manage more than a weak smile in response. A large part of her silence was due to the sedative taking hold, but the memories of her passionate dreams were beginning to seep into the edges of her thoughts.

Carla found it harder with every moment that passed to separate the flesh and blood doctor who would manipulate her body in a professional capacity with the imaginary man she had conjured to caress and even venerate her altered form. She smiled inwardly as Pickford made his checks and ensured that she was physically prepared for the next stage of the operation, her fogged mind interpreting his attentions as teasing foreplay as she slipped into unconsciousness.

With his patient prepared and under the anaesthetic, Pickford wasted no time in beginning the final stage of his involvement with her transformation. Though the most laborious tasks had been completed the day before, he was now faced with the most painstaking and delicate portion of the process and concentration would be of paramount importance if he wanted to get things right.

Her naked skin once more exposed to the harsh light of the theatre, Carla lay with the expanse of her single lower limb stretching out below her waist. Raised at the point where her heels had once been by means of a small metal arch, the wedge of flesh that represented the very tip of her body was painted with a coating of the same solution which had rendered her legs malleable the previous day. Soon the liquid had been absorbed into her skin and the exploratory finger the assistant used to prod Carla's skin left a small impression, indicating that the desired effect had been achieved.

Pickford noted the assistant's progress and called for a container of transparent plastic to be brought to the side of the operating table. Inside the shallow container, floating in a bath of liquid was a broad and sturdy looking object that might have been mistaken for a cartilaginous fish of some exotic kind. Closer inspection revealed that it was in fact a powerful fin, fully perhaps two and a half feet in width and two in length, ribbed with curving lines of cartilage and ending in pattern of curves between them. The fin was a dark silver in its densest parts, fading to a much lighter shade where it became thinner, but with each shade reflecting the light that fell upon it.