The Mermaid's Treasure -6-

I marveled that I had been able to get through the rather narrow door between the two cabins with a butt like that. I turned around and looked at it over my shoulder, pulling my hair out of the way because it was long enough to obscure the view. 

It was so big, it looked like a joke. Gammon might have been patting me there to see if it was real. “Oh lord,” I thought. “Why am I such a perfect ass?” Which threatened me with more hysterical giggles.

At least no one was making mermaid jokes.

But I did have legs. Mermaids don’t have legs, do they? My legs were long enough to reach the floor but weren’t the slender stems some of the models have. I wasn’t leggy and my thighs were a bit heavy. I turned back around and they still looked too big. Between them was this inky black, uh, bush with a flat top halfway up to my navel. 

I tried to get a look down there at the area I could feel, pushing my boobs out of the way, but I realized I would need a hand mirror to get a good look. Was I built funny or was every girl’s —thing— that far back? I knew just where it was because I could still feel the sand from that initial plotz on the beach.

There was a hand mirror on the bed but I chickened out on getting a better view and finished my figure inventory. My knees had dimples, too, and my calves looked nice and ended in feet that were pretty small with toes that seemed almost too short. 

I looked at my hands—okay, I had short fingers, too. My hands looked fine at the end of my skinny arms but I doubted I’d ever make a good piano player. Did they even have pianos now?

Probably not on a warship, a thought silly enough to make me giggle again. I knew that if I kept doing that I would lose it in hysterical laughter and then tears and probably throwing up. So I stifled the giggles and hiccoughed a couple of times. I couldn’t play the piano anyway.

I stared at the whole picture and turned this way and that. Dangit, I was too cute to manage beautiful but I was a very pretty girl. And looking at myself in a mirror did nothing as far as turning me on. In fact, now that I had had a look at myself, I felt sort of fat. Well, chubby, anyway, despite slender arms and neck and waist. There was too much of me for someone so short. Why weren’t my legs longer and my thighs less—just less! At the wrong angle they looked enormous!

With big tits and ass and a tiny waist, I was all curves, overbuilt like a penthouse on a motorhome. I knew that the old me would have ogled with glee, despite the fat thighs. I might have been only twelve but I had recently figured out one thing that girls were for—besides just looking at them. But I didn’t feel that kind of excitement at all. I sighed. I might have had some fun with my new body if looking at myself turned me on, but nothing.

The stuff on the beed caught my eye. I still couldn’t picture myself wearing any of the clothes though I had to admit that a figure like the one I had now in a pair of tight cutoff jeans and a halter top would probably cause riots on an all male ship. I giggled again, a little nervously. Maybe wearing a dress would be better than wearing pants for now. More covered up. Not showing how fat my ass and thighs were. Yikes.

I tested the water. Still almost too hot. What was I going to do with all this hair? It had sand in it too so I needed to wash it. Did they have shampoo? How would I ever get it all dry? And salt water might be good for skin but I imagined it doing terrible things to hair. Weirdly, finding a pair of scissors and cutting it all off did not occur to me until much, much later.

From the pile of stuff on the bunk, I picked a small bar of soap that had a pleasant, sort of nutty smell. On second thought, more like olives and fresh cut wood? I didn’t think I had ever considered the smell of soap before. 

Frowning, I placed a couple of towels handy, and picked a cloth to use to wash with. (The towels were not made of what I thought of as towel-cloth, but just thick material like jeans but softer.)

I didn’t have David’s coat on anymore, and I felt a little cold. Gammon had left a little box beside the bathtub which was good because getting in would have been hard to do without it.

I finally climbed into the tub which was still almost too hot but I forced myself in once I started. Not without a few hisses and yeowches but—oh bliss, once I was in. That felt so good, the hot water eased a lot of tension I had not been aware I was feeling. It also woke me up so I didn’t feel so tired.

Adding my body to the water nearly caused the tub to overflow but not quite. If I didn’t splash about, there wouldn’t be a huge mess to clean up. I settled into the tub and let the heat bake the muscles in my back until they were soft as Playdoh. Darn boobies floated up just under the surface like flabby icebergs. A wonder my ass didn’t float up, too.

I got my hair thoroughly wet then lathered it with the bar of soap and rinsed it as well as I could while sitting in the same water. Not ideal but what are you gonna do? Then I used the soap and the washcloth everywhere.

Everywhere meant my fingers explored places I couldn’t see and I gasped to discover how sensitive things could be, uh, down there. Could girls masturbate, I wondered? Better not find out when the captain or someone might come back. 

Still, I lingered in my salty tub enjoying a soak until I heard someone at the door. The latch rattled but did not yield.

“Psst!” came a voice. “It’s the mermaid, iddenit?” A voice I hadn’t heard before…. 

I felt afraid and for a moment the tub I was in seemed like the water in the sinkhole, full of rocks and danger, and about to drag me under. I must have made a noise, a gasp maybe. Nothing as loud as a shriek because I couldn’t find the air to make one.

“It’s her. The door is locked, ain’t it?” Another voice. “Mr. O’Reilly said we was to guard the door, di’n’t he?”

“Wass her name?”

“Pennyworth something?”

The first voice again. “Miss Penny. If’n you’re a mermaid, ye must know where the treasure is? Eh?”

What treasure? And what mermaid? I was too gobsmacked to get angry and too frightened to ask questions.

Outside there were whispers then a clearer conclusion. “Get away fum the door, it’s the skipper!”

Silence for a moment. I struggled to collect my wits and glanced down again at myself. I was behind a locked door for my protection but he was watching the watchers?

“Miss Pennwarden,” the Captain’s voice called out. “Chips is here to rebuild the cabin. You need to finish your bath and get dressed. Are the clothes Gammon found suitable?”

Who the heck was Chips? “Uh, I’ll b-be done soon,” I tried to stall. Did I tell him that his guards had tried to talk to me? Maybe not. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble and they really hadn’t done anything other than scare me.

“Miss Pennwarden?” the Captain asked again.

“I’m not dressed,” I said. And suddenly I could see the image that had to have gone through the minds of whoever was waiting out there. Naked girl. Stay away. I made small splashing noises. “I’m not even out of the tub yet.” Oh, that probably didn’t help.

But the water had been slowly cooling and curds of stale soap floated on the top of my bath. I didn’t want any of that stuff sticking to me, I would have to get out carefully. I could feel the sand in the bottom of the tub so that problem was gone. I did feel clean and I had to admit that really, I wasn’t going to get any cleaner in the now thoroughly used bathwater.

“I’m going to send the chaplain in to assist you,” said the Captain through the door.

“That’s… I… you…?” Help me? “I can get out of the tub myself!” I heard my voice climb almost to a squeak.

He chuckled. “No doubt. But he knows about clothing and such. He can help you dress.”

I probably would need help getting in to a dress, I’d never worn one before, and the ones on the bed looked nothing like the ones I had seen my mom and sister wear… but a chaplain? Maybe the word meant something different now? He would be a male, though, a man. There were no women on the ship, so… so what would he know about helping me dress? I glanced at the bewildering pile of ancient feminine clothing on the bed. Well, maybe more than I knew, at that, but still….

I heard the door unlatch as I was trying to climb out of the tub. My limbs seemed tired again and my wet hair weighed a ton and I felt awkwardly bottom heavy except for the swinging masses on my chest that threatened to topple me on my face when I leaned forward. I almost tripped myself finding the little step Gammon had left, hurrying a little too much.

When I heard the door swing open, I turned and stared, half in and half out of the tub as a slender young man slipped into the room and it was locked behind him. He stared back, then put both hands to his face and exclaimed. “Oh, darling, you’re beautiful!” in a clear high tenor.

Oh, I thought, that’s why he won’t be a problem locked in a room with a naked girl. He’s gay.

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