Chapter 2
Two
Moby
I’m closer to the shore than I’ve been in years.
Though I’m under the cover of darkness, as night has fallen, the sounds and sights coming from the beach cause my stomach to turn. Shrill laughter and twirling fire and stumbling humans. I believe what I’m observing is called a luau.
I do not like humans. They are loud, messy and they intrude on my ocean, leaving trash and the smell of diesel fuel behind.
Unfortunately, I have not been able to stop thinking about one of them.
The only one whose voice and presence…pleased me. A great deal.
Darla.
That is what the pipsqueak named Leonardo called her.
A grand name for a scrawny leech.
My insides grow tense at the possibility that Darla is on that beach with Leonardo.
This afternoon, I came very close to tipping their boat over so that I might spend more time with Darla.
So that I could separate her from that slippery eel.
But humans cannot survive in the ocean. Just like whales cannot survive on the shore.
Unless they have the power to shift.
Which I do.
I sink into the cool water with a drawn-out grumble, disgusted by the idea of being human. A horrifying prospect, to be sure. Toes and fingers? Blech. Hair? No, thank you. I am not dealing with any of that nonsense.
However, Darla had the cutest little toes, painted pink and sticking out of her sandals.
Her strawberry blonde hair caught the sunlight, highlighting her blushing cheeks and her ripe young form.
I’ve never found a human body pleasing before.
Never been…drawn to touch and taste one.
But no amount of food that I’ve consumed today has made a dent in my hunger, because it’s only for her. This…Darla.
Now, I am here, considering a shift into human form, solely for the purpose of mating hers.
Yes. I want to find her on that beach and mate her roughly, as evidenced by the heaviness beneath me, weighing me down into the water.
I could not have her any other way but in a human form.
Not without killing her. And I find the idea of Darla even in one iota of pain floods me with awful, raging tension. What happened to her little knee?
Who the fuck did that to her?
Maybe in between mating sessions with Darla, I will track this culprit down and sever them from the knees down in a fitting punishment.
As they are likely humans, they will probably deserve it.
Darla will watch me do this for her and in her gratitude, beg for me to ejaculate inside of her afterward. In any breach I choose.
I throb uncontrollably, my ache for the delicious little human spreading to the entire enormous length of me.
Oh, dear God, I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?
Shift into an insignificant human being.
All to slake this painful lust. All to take off those tiny shorts and figure out how she is meant to be fucked. I simply need to know. Now.
There is only one thing holding me back now.
The terms of the Blight.
My sister, brother and I were all cursed by the Sea Witch a decade ago. It was entirely my bumbling brother’s fault for venturing into her territory. In exchange for his carelessness, we were cursed with the ability to shift into human form.
But only for twenty-four hours. After that, we return to the ocean and resume our lives as whales, never able to shift again.
Unless we find someone to love us. To confess that love. Out loud.
My sister wasn’t successful.
Neither was my brother.
And they are much easier to love. Where I am…not.
I am the surliest being in the entire ocean. I tolerate nothing and no one.
I have no expectation that I’ll be any different on land.
The best that I can hope for is that my human form is attractive to Darla so that I can spend twenty-four hours rutting her on the shore, before the Blight claims me once more.
Will it be worth it?
When I spy Darla backing away from the bonfire on the beach and taking off down the shore by herself, my heart jolts in my chest and I feel myself tingling.
Reshaping. Shifting to a human form, as if I’m too starved for her to help it.
Before I’m fully aware of my own transformation, there I am, treading water in the moonlight with four limbs that feel incredibly awkward at first. The water is much colder now.
I’m smaller, but still decidedly large compared to the many humans I’ve witnessed.
I begin to swim in the same direction where Darla is walking, relieved to discover that I’ve retained my adept swimming ability, my arms cutting through the water like knives, my legs like twin motors, spurring me forward.
In no time at all, my new feet are touching the ocean floor, and I can see her, there, standing backlit by the stars, staring out at the ocean.
She wears bikini bottoms and a sweatshirt, which I believe makes absolutely no sense.
And there are her cute, little toes, dug into the sand.
Why do I find her toes delicious looking and not foul?
Every part of her I find delicious. Tantalizing.
My rod is long and stiff beneath the water, and I take it in my hand, testing the new size and shape. Again, much smaller than my whale construct, but decidedly enormous. I’ve seen plenty of drunk humans pissing over the side of their boats to recognize that I put them all to shame.
Too big to fit inside Darla?
How much can a human girl fit inside of her?
God willing, I will find out tonight.
As soon as I arrive on the beach, preferably.
My hand creeps lower to judge the shape of my testicles—having them hang on the outside of my body will take some getting used to—and my eyebrows shoot up to find them much, much bigger and fuller than expected.
I once saw a sailor peeling an orange and dropping peels into the water.
That’s what my balls reminds me of. Two round oranges.
And oh, they are so sensitive.
I bite off a groan while rubbing them vigorously in my palm, twisting and yanking and massaging, all while looking at Darla’s bare legs, but I have to stop when my cock threatens to spew. Right. As a human, I have less willpower. I need to remember that.
Praying Darla finds me attractive, I walk out of the water and onto the beach.
She stumbles backward and falls on her butt, her eyes round in terror.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” She scuttles in reverse, looking around for something. Or perhaps someone to help her. “You…you…where did you come from?”
“The ocean.”
Interesting. My voice is the deepest I’ve ever heard from a human.
Is that a good thing?
She rattles through a breath, no idea how delectable she appears in the sand with her thighs spread, a little black strip shielding her breach from view.
But I know it’s there. I know its purpose.
Me. “W-were you swimming? Snorkeling? I didn’t see you…
and then, you just…it’s like you came out of nowhere! ”
You know me. We met this afternoon.
Those words are on the tip of my tongue, but I pause. Perhaps knowing I am the whale she confided in this afternoon will alarm Darla. After all, a whale who can shift into a human being is not the norm, whatsoever. I might scare her. Or cause her to run.
I will wait a while to reveal my true identity. For the most part, anyway. It won’t hurt to tell her my name.
“I’m Moby. And yes, I was out for a night swim…”
I trail off when I realize Darla is staring slack-jawed at my cock. Until now, it hasn’t occurred to me that I will need clothes in order to blend in.
Oops, as the humans say.
“I left my pants here on the beach,” I lie smoothly. “Have you seen them?”
She shakes her head slowly, still staring. Maybe I should be flattered. “The ocean is so cold. I-Isn’t there supposed to be shrinkage?”
“I promise you, it has shrunk a great deal.”
Darla jolts. “You mean, it’s usually b-bigger than that?”
“Quite.”
“Oh lord.” She physically shakes herself, before scanning up and down the beach, clearly looking for my pants that don’t really exist. “Should I go ask someone if you can borrow some clothes?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Apparently, it is the wrong thing to say.
She is the one who is shrinking now, closing her thighs with a snap.
Tensing. Preparing to jump to her feet and bolt.
Intuition urges me to speak quickly. To show Darla she can trust me, despite my sudden appearance and nudity.
“It’s nice to talk to someone. I don’t talk to many beings. ”
A blonde eyebrow pops. “Beings?”
“People,” I amend. “I keep to myself.”
All true. And part of the reason I felt such a connection to her this afternoon.
I release a relieved breath when I seem to have captured her attention. “Why do you keep to yourself, Moby?”
“People are annoying, that’s why. Always complaining and chewing too loud. Their laughter is fake. They are always putting some kind of expectation on me to be funny or interesting, and I don’t care if they think I’m either of those things.”
Of course, I’m talking about my fellow whales, but she doesn’t know that.
In fact, I appear to be making sense to her, thank God.
With Darla, the truth is the correct path.
Add it to the list of things I like about her, along with her voice, body, her personality.
“I suppose we could talk for a while, but maybe we should go stand in waist-deep water, so I’m not distracted by…it?” Her gaze falls once again to my cock, and she blushes, pressing her fingers to the seam of her mouth. “Or…them.”
“Who is them?”
“You know…”
“My testicles?” I tug my hard dick to one side and observe the round sacs from above, the ocean water making them shiny in the light of the moon. “They are much better on the inside, no?”
“Oh, uh. Sure?”
“Trust me.” Letting my shaft drop with a bounce, I reach down for her hand. “Come. We can talk in the water, so my cock and balls don’t make you tongue tied.”