Mer, Part 3

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Summary: Sequel to Fish Boy. Ryan’s Mermaid-descendants live in seclusion at the bottom of the ocean. Each is asexual, except for the occasional unlucky Mer born with the deformity of legs. Cona's responsibility is to birth the next generation of Mers. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, eggs.

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“You’re doing fine, Cona,” said Dr. Kelper, as he gently spread a salve over Cona’s belly. Cona breathed in relief as she felt her skin soften. “You still have plenty of room to grow. What you’re feeling is movement.”

“Movement?” Cona blinked.

“Oh yes. It’s completely normal. Your young are strong.”

Cona sat up, carefully, on the slab of rock she had been laid out on. She placed her hand on her abdomen, which still seemed bizarrely round and uncomfortably pressurized. “And then?” she said.

“I believe you have already been informed of what is next,” muttered Kelper, not without sympathy. He handed Cona the container of salve, which she took into her hands. “Try to enjoy your last few days here. Do not take them for granted.”

He helped Cona off of the rock, and she drifted towards the exit of the medical hut. She threw a glance back at Dr. Kelper, but he already seemed absorbed in other things. Cona swam off.

Swimming was getting awkward and uncomfortable with her growing belly. Sometimes she worried about the tension of her muscles clenching around it. A lot of the time, Cona simply allowed herself to drift with the current. Often, she didn’t care where she ended up.

Today the current brought Cona to the community square, which Cona had been avoiding for the past several days. In fact, she had barely left her hut at all. Her face reddened as the other eighteen-year-olds looked up at spotting her as she sunk down to one of the stone benches. Cona was immediately surrounded.

“Oh my,” said Fiona, taking in Cona’s belly. Her gaze shifted to the way Cona’s breasts were bulging against the strip of cloth wrapped about them.

Tom couldn’t help pointing and snickering at Cona’s protruding belly button. “She looks like a pregnant seahorse with too many young.”

It was an appropriate analogy. Cona held her belly.

“How does it feel, Cona?” Rina asked.

“Really full,” Cona mumbled. “Really tight.”

“Just how many are you going to produce?” said Charles.

“A lot,” said Cona weakly.

“She looks like she’s going to pop,” said Tom.

He had no idea how true this was.

There was an awkward silence.

“Do you want to play with us?” said Fiona gently, as she held up the cloth ball.

“I think I’ll take it easy today,” Cona declined. She carefully leaned back on the bench, waving them off as they swam up to resume their game.

Cona gently ran her hand along her belly. It was so full and tight, and it seemed to be throbbing. She breathed in long, slow draws, watching her belly heave up and down. She could feel more of that gentle wriggling within her, which caused her face to grow flushed. Just how many lives would her death bring into this world?

Getting up carefully, Cona left the square and returned to her hut. Even with her brief outing, she was still depressed. She laid back in the sand, grunting at the uncomfortable weight of her mass against her. She turned to her side, and idly stroked her mound with her hands.

In only another day, Cona’s belly was wider than she was, and she was quick to massage it with the salve. She could feel it pulsating, the wriggling inside her getting stronger.

The other Mers continued to deliver her increasingly large food portions, and Cona didn’t want anything to do with it. But despite her fear of growth, her appetite was overpowering. Cona found herself stuffing her face quite regularly.

“Hahhh…hahhh…” she breathed, holding the underside of her belly, watching it bob up and down. She had just fed on a particularly large serving of catfish, and she wasn’t certain her belly could handle it. “Oh no…not now…” Cona groaned, arching her back as her belly tightened. She felt it push out even more. By human standards, she looked as though she was due with triplets. It was quiet difficult to swim, and she had not left her hut in some days.

“Nrrrgghhh….nooo….” Cona’s face reddened as she struggled against the surging pressure. She gasped for breath when it subsided, to her relief. She looked down at her great mass, knowing that she couldn’t possibly have much longer. She settled down to the sand, gently rubbing her mass.

“Cona, are you in there?” Seline’s face appeared in the entry way. “My, you’re getting large, aren’t you?”

Cona frowned, and looked down.

Seline allowed herself in, swimming down to Cona’s level. “I wanted to have a word with you before…before I miss the opportunity.”

Cona just breathed and tried to relax. She carefully reclined back on the sand so that her belly was upward, her face looking at the ceiling. She lightly held her mound as it rose and fell, the glowing rocks reflecting on its pale surface.

“Do you know the history of the Mers?” said Seline, as she swam closer. Idly, she lifted and opened and container of salve.

Cona shook her head. “How could I?” she grumbled, still catching her breath. “No one tells me anything.”

“I suppose that’s true,” said Seline. She began to gently apply the salve to Cona’s belly.

Cona’s eyes closed as her mass softened and she enjoyed the temporary relief. Her breasts were bulging more than ever from the chest wrap, her nipples close to being exposed. Cona’s belly button had grown to the size of a golf ball. Seline rubbed the salve around Cona’s navel, Cona’s face contorting as her belly button suddenly twitched. Her hand flew up to gently cup it.

“So that’s started up,” said Seline in pleasure. “Your young are strong. It means you’re getting close.”

At the sight of Cona’s glare, Seline’s smile fell.

“That’s right…” said Seline. “Where was I? Cona, I feel that it’s only appropriate that you learn how you, yourself, came to be.”

“From the death of another?”

Seline nodded, a sad smile crossing her face. “Cona, it used to be that all Mers were born with legs. And when each Mer reached his or her eighteenth year of life, their bellies would grow slowly. The burden of eggs was divided amongst the population, and it would take months to years for Mers to fill. But sooner or later, everyone reached capacity.”

Cona stared up at Seline. It had only taken Cona days to get so round with young. She wondered if it would have been better if others were sharing the burden. She released a grunt as her belly button twitched again.

Seline continued to apply the salve. “As you could imagine, this was disastrous. Every eighteen or so years, the entirety of the population would burst. Yes, the newborns were great in numbers, but few of them survived on their own. Over the years, the species evolved. Mers began to be born with tails instead.

“Over time, fewer and fewer Mers were born with legs, and the burden of carrying the new generation. Now when a litter is born, there is usually only one—and this is entirely fortunate. As you can imagine, our species is at risk of dying out.”

Cona weakly nodded. “How did the past Mers with legs…cope?” she wanted to know.

Seline looked uneasy at this. “They had no choice, did they? Some swelled and swelled, and held out for as long as they could until their eggs demanded freedom. I have heard that some of them cut themselves open when they could no longer handle the burden. In the past, Cona, the process was very slow, and quite a trial. These Mers would steadily grow massive. Their bodies would stretch more and more. Some simply could not handle it.

“It has always been said to have been, quite traumatic, for the Mers with tails forced to watch their breathren reach capacity. Bu t as I said, the species evolve. Soon most Mers had tails, it turned out being a good and bad thing. Good, because fewer Mers had to die. Bad, because—”

“Population,” said Cona.

Seline nodded. “Indeed. We are a fading race. Each generation, only one—occasionally two—Mers are born with the ability to breed. We fear the day that none are born at all. They are our only way to procreate.”

Cona frowned to herself. Her suffering would mean the continuation of her species. She should have been proud, yet she still felt nothing short of miserable. “Mmphhhh…” Cona grunted, as her belly suddenly pushed out an inch. Her face reddened, her chest heaving as she panted. “They’ve been growing fast,” she managed.

Seline stroked Cona’s hair. “You have done well, Cona. We are all proud of you.”

Cona placed her hands on the sand, and managed to heave herself up. “Thank you, elder. Thank you for telling me our history.” She forced a smile. But at that moment, Cona just wanted to be alone. She left the hut, and was stunned by how heavy she was getting. She waded out close to the sand, feeling like a bottom-dweller, because she could barely get any lift anymore.

Her belly was bulging out considerably from her otherwise slim frame, her large breasts perched atop it, heaving up and down. A cloth wrapped her hips, a slimmer one, around her breasts. But there was no hiding the extent of her condition. Her belly was getting flushed now, and was visibly throbbing. It seemed like it was bigger every hour. Cona grunted out as her belly button gave a wriggle. “Shhhhh….” She cupped it, rubbing it soothingly. “Easy,” she breathed. But she was anything but calm. She knew that she didn’t have much time left.

“Cona?”

Cona looked up, spotting Fiona. The other Mer was staring at her in concern.

“Cona, you don’t look so well…” Fiona trailed off as she stared at Cona’s taut skin. “Maybe you should see the medic. Perhaps your eggs are close to due.” Fiona smiled.

Cona forced a smile of her own. “It’s fine Fiona,” she lied. “I still have some growing to do.”

But Fiona looked uncertain. “Are you sure, Cona. Let me take you to the medic. Just to make sure.”

Cona felt another surge of pressure, but tried her best to hide it. “T-trust me Fiona. I feel fi…fine. Wonderful.” Cona rubbed her belly lovingly, her strained smile still in place. Fiona truly had no idea what was in store for her.

“Okay Cona…if you insist. Just take it easy, okay? Take care of those baby Mers.”

“I promise,” Cona agreed.

Only after Fiona had swam away and out of sight, Cona lowered herself with a long groan. She closed her eyes as the tension within her belly continued to surge. She choked out as her belly heaved and swelled.

By human standards, she looked as though she was due with quads. Perhaps at another time she could have grown larger, but she didn’t have the benefit of slow, steady stretching, as with her ancestors. At that moment, Cona felt ready to pop. Her eyes wet, she rubbed her belly desperately. “Easy…easy...ummppghhhh…” she groaned, cupping her navel. These babies were keen.

Resigned, she laid back, and allowed herself to drift. She tried to ignore her discomfort. Cona didn’t care where the current took her, she just wanted it all to be over. In those moments, she tried to love her offspring. She tried to love them as much as she could.

Then she was on the sand, not drifting above it, but hard pressed down on it, in an unfamiliar sensation that startled her. Her body was heavier than it had ever been, her back under great strain, and the weight of the mound truly pinning her to the earth. She struggled to breathe, her gills flapping as they encountered something that was not water. It took a while for her to realize that she had washed up on shore. Cona struggled to move, her face flushed in panic. She stared up at the overwhelmingly black sky.

“Miss!” called an unfamiliar voice. “Miss, are you okay?”

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