The Little Mermaid Gave It Her All

There’s one thing that surpasses all the gold and precious gems in the world. It’s stronger than hatred, tougher than evil. You can call it love if you like, but if you’ve got your wits about you—no, not your brain, I’m talking about common sense—you’ll know exactly what I mean. But if you’re going to be daft about it, let’s start from the top.

So, picture this: a mermaid. She was swimming around in her colourful world, gorging on seaweed delicacies or munching on sushi without the rice. She’d giggle dutifully at all the daft dolphin jokes because, let’s be honest, dolphins have a shockingly terrible sense of humour. She also played ‘stormy seas’ and ‘dead sailors’ with her sisters.

Now, this little mermaid—she was quite the small fry—was getting used to the idea that this was going to be her life forever.

When the little mermaid was fifteen, like her older sisters before her, her grandmother took her aside and instructed her in safe sex.

Safe sex is about not fondling anything with sharp teeth.

Little is known about this, but mermaids are very persistent. The scales that cover them from the waist down are tiny but powerful excitable zones. You can play them like an organ and they moan and whimper with pleasure.

The problem is, you don’t think of doing it.

While from the waist up they are beautiful and endlessly sexy, full naked breasts just perfect enough to keep your mind off them for a long time if you spot them somewhere and are lucky enough to survive, the first scales appear around the navel and continue in an unbroken layer to the fins at about knee level and end at the tail.

Yes, you heard right, uninterrupted.

If this mermaid got under your hands, you’d play with the perfect balloons of soft breasts for a while, but you’d soon go lower. You’d start looking for a place to go.

You wouldn’t find it.

Mermaids have nowhere to go.

It was this very dilemma that sent the little mermaid off to sort things out with the dreaded, wicked sea witch. And let’s be honest, it was never really about the legs.

But before all that, she ran into the prince. Now, he wasn’t quite the stunner the rumours made him out to be, but when you’re looking at something through water, things do tend to look a bit different. Some things seem prettier, others… well, let’s just say they appear larger than life.

So, when our gorgeous little mermaid first laid eyes on the prince, she was completely smitten.

He was just getting high on one of the ladies of the court. They were sailing far away and had been at sea a long time. This was certainly a pleasant way to pass the long days and evenings, but if he could comment on it himself, he would surely tell you that he could do it for longer. Even better. More passionately or more tenderly, whichever you preferred, if it came to that.

But to the little mermaid, it seemed perfect.

She’s seen mating couples before. She watched the simple rubbing of flesh against flesh, and at the end a brief twitch, and that was it.

What she now saw through the cabin window was quite different. This mating of a handsome prince with big black eyes and a beautiful white lady was growing stronger and stronger like a storm. Towards the end they were both breathing so fast, screaming and writhing, that she felt they were dying. Until then, she had been convinced that people only died when they fell into the sea; on land, like her in the sea water, they could live forever.

So, she burned the image of that prince into her mind. She was utterly convinced that whatever magic he worked on that woman in white must have been something spectacular—nothing short of the best thing she’d ever experienced. And, of course, only this dashing prince could pull off something so marvellous. No one else stood a chance.

She had no doubt that if she were the one in that woman’s place, with all the right bits and bobs, she’d have the same mind-blowing experience. More than anything, the little mermaid longed to roll her eyes back and scream her lungs out into the world above, her very own “Ohhh myyyy!” Or at the very least, a modest little “ahh.”

And that’s what drove her straight to the sea witch. The inevitable question came first: “What are you willing to sacrifice for this?”

The typical, naive reply: “Absolutely everything.”

It’s funny how mermaids and land-dwelling women aren’t all that different when it comes to these matters.

“If I give you that mysterious little opening you so desperately want,” the witch said, “I’ll have to give you legs as well.”

“That’s fine.”

“But if I give you legs, you’ll stop being a mermaid.”

“No problem.”

She didn’t even care that she’d become mortal. Didn’t mind one bit that she wouldn’t be able to return to the sea. Even if it meant never seeing her father or sisters again, she was still ready to go through with it.

The witch nodded with satisfaction. “I won’t stop you. As long as you know what you’re getting into. And just to show you how much I’ve always favoured you, I’ll do it for a small token.”

And that would be?

“Your tongue.”

The little mermaid hesitated—after all, she might need it. She’d noticed how the woman had used her tongue to awaken that miraculous thing of the prince’s, which had looked rather lifeless, like a fish floating belly-up.

“Those are my terms,” the witch declared.

So, the mermaid took the bottle of potion, with the advice to drink it only when she reached the shore, and the witch took her tongue.

Everyone might have been happy if it weren’t for that little fine print note on every contract. It said that the little mermaid only had until the next full moon and if she didn’t orgasm by then, she would dissolve into sea foam.

This is how it happened that the little mermaid appeared on the shore in front of the palace of the handsome prince. Only her waist-length hair hid her nakedness.

Beautiful and sensual.

With that weird hole, brand new, unused.

Mute.

In a word: perfect.

When the guards see a naked beauty, they don’t ask. They take her straight to the prince’s chambers.

Even the prince didn’t have many unnecessary questions. It’s morning, he’s always a bit horny in the mornings, and when a cute naked girl comes along, he lives up to his family’s motto with honour. You’d have to go and see the ceremonial hall, where, next to the crossbows and swords, the writing hangs on fancy embroidered ribbons: We are men of action.

That morning, the little mermaid discovered two things.

For one thing, she found out that they were dumb here in the palace, too, maybe they had traded their tongues for that strange cylindrical thing that sometimes flutters funny and sometimes sticks forward menacingly.

The second discovery wasn’t so fun.

Now that he has a hole and legs, he can mate with the nice prince as far as his holes and limbs will go. The problem is, she finds it about as exciting as painting a fence or maybe mowing the grass. In short, something you sweat at and only last long enough because it needs to be done.

It was never meant to be done with the little fairy.

If you have no idea why, maybe go back to what was said here about scales. There, it says that each tiny scale is itself a sensitive, vain, excitable zone. But without scales, there is no arousal in a fairy. Without scales, there is no orgasm.

Without scales, everything is about as much like eating from an empty bowl as looking for something that isn’t there in a crowded pantry. A cow without milk. A well without water.

This is how futile it is for her without scales.

Pretty soon she discovered how things actually were with the prince’s mute. As soon as he rolled off her, he gave her a little pat on the back, like patting the roof of a carriage, that she could go.

“Run and get me some tobacco, honey.”

I guess she was hoping the scales thing would work itself out. The little mermaid imagined that one day things would be different. At first she blamed herself, then the thought came to her with pious horror: what if it was all the prince’s fault?

Every evening at sunset she would sit on the seashore and talk with her four sisters. I mean, our mermaid didn’t talk much, but she learned to listen like no other.

And the other marmaids babbled about how Ostrozubek the shark had dropped another tooth when he dove onto a fishing boat. They also told how the old turtle fell asleep again and had to be woken up and mentioned other stories that were very interesting to our little mermaid, but you won’t care. You don’t know the sea lions, you’ve never met the fish, and you don’t know anything about the octopuses.

One evening, our silent beauty confided her problem to the little sisters. Only eight days remained until the full moon, only eight evenings and eight nights before she would melt away without her desire being fulfilled.

If you ask how she managed to explain herself, the answer is obvious: she struggled.

She was trying to tell the sisters about her suffering and they were guessing what her jerky movements with her arms and legs were all about.

“She misses you! That’s why she sighs. Oh yes, little sister,” says one. “We’re sad too.”

The little mermaid shakes her head and strokes herself again, looking as if she has swallowed seaweed.

“You’re backed up!” shouts the other. She shouts it joyfully, practically shouting it.

And the silent game continues with another violent shake of the head.

Let’s cut it short, even though The Little Mermaid couldn’t cut that one short. Determinedly, nudge by nudge, she worked out what she wanted to tell her sisters. They finally understood, finally realized the torment afflicting their beloved youngest sister.

They’re saddened.

Then they silently did a back flip, as a pair of trained dolphins sometimes do. They jumped into the sea and swam, leaving our sea princess to her mute fate on the shore alone.

They were back the next evening.

The three sisters told how they swam to the sea witch and asked her for help. The fourth was silent, only her sad eyes full of pain. She handed the little mermaid a tiny shell with some ointment in it. She paid for the ointment with her own tongue.

“The ointment,” another of the sister explained. “It’s miraculous. If you rub it on a part of your body, scales will appear on that spot and they will be just as sensitive and aroused as they should be.”

The happy mermaid ran to the palace and lathered herself with ointment in the prince’s chambers. She was clever, so she rubbed it on the places the prince liked to stroke.

And she followed him.

He glanced at her, and you could probably see the signs of surprise in his eyes.

“Bitch,” he said to her, “drop the swimsuit and follow me.”

Hardly anyone can explain to him what he said that was so terrible that the tiny beautiful girl ran away crying.

She ran to her sisters and the charades came up again. The splash of four busty dolphins, and then one long, endless day of waiting to see what they would come back with.

Only two of her sisters still had tongues, the others were to remain mute forever.

“Here’s your potion,” said one of the two lucky ones. “Drink it and your skin will be very sensitive to friction for two hours.”

The little mermaid turned the bottle inside her before she reached the palace. She ran through the corridors and straight into the Prince’s chambers. Her eyes sparkled with excitement like never before, because even hookers have skin, you know?

She lunged for her chosen one and while he was warming her up, squeezing here and there, he suddenly jumped away from her as if he had pricked himself on a pin. At the same time, there was a prick sticking out between his thighs.

“Damn it,” he shouted at the fairy. “What’s that?”

She looked and saw that wherever the prince had stroked her, the skin had turned pink and small pimples had formed in the places where he had paid careful attention.

By then, the prince was already tangled in his robe, pointing a finger at her, “Come back when you’re well again. And get something to put on that rash.”

Honey, the situation here was already serious. It was no longer a matter of some kind of a fuss, it was no longer important whether or not there would be a fuss. Whether she’d cum, whether she’d sing in the highest key.

This was a matter of life.

Clueless, she ran to the sisters again.

Another evening of terrifying waiting.

The return of beloved sisters, only one of whom could still speak.

“Here’s your oil,” she said. “Smear it where the prince can’t see and where your pleasure centre should be. That’s where you’ll be most aroused.”

In theory, it was a wonderful idea.

It worked so well that it had an immediate effect on the prince. As he got involved, he naturally became quite aroused. The stimulating potion did its job perfectly, and he went on to repeat the act twice more before achieving what the little mermaid had sacrificed so much for—her tail, her scales, her tongue, and possibly even her life.

The prince had it all as a kind of bonus, a premium to a magnificent castle, and he got a companion as diligent as he had ever had. Just a little lukewarm.

So now he rolled his eyes, grunted, and felt the active ingredient leave him for a change.

And it was over.

Another apology: “Sorry, slick.”

That settled it for him for the evening.

Admittedly, going back and forth twice was the most exciting thing the little mermaid had ever experienced. It’s like going on some kind of race tour. You might be pleased that you were going in the right direction, but it wouldn’t count towards the outcome if you didn’t even see the finish line.

At this stage, some argue that it was selfish of the mermaid not to just stretch out on the shore and lie down. That she went whining to her sisters again. That she sent the last one to have her tongue cut out, with the outcome being extremely uncertain.

These judgements might be useful if they were only made by people who are incapable of doing anything stupid for the sake of a little sex. In short, whatever you think of it, she went to see her sisters again, and as she waited there the next evening, watching the sunset, she somehow sensed it would be her last.

That night, the sisters showed up. They could no longer speak and their hands were empty. They looked sadly at their youngest sister, then one plucked a scale from her tail and handed it to the little mermaid.

And she took it and slowly walked back to the palace.

To the Prince’s bedchamber.

In her hands she clutched the little flake, perhaps for luck. When the prince appeared, she was sadder than ever, and their mating was so slow, so careful. As if it would be the last time for him, too.

Our sea beauty was squeezing her scales and thinking of the sea. She was thinking of her father, whom she hadn’t seen for a long time and wouldn’t see again. Her grandmother and her advice. Her beloved sisters.

She also remembered all the sea creatures that just inhabit the ocean floor. She thought of every one of them, crushing a scale in her palm.

And whether it was from the scales or the memories or that her prince had tried so hard that night. Bang, it’s here. She won the price.

She arched her back, her head pressed into the pillow, remembering to press the scales. She groaned. Moaned like no one ever moaned in the prince’s bed. The wail of joy was heard far away, reaching the water’s surface where the little mermaid sisters heard it, and for that moment, for that brief moment, they were happy. It was for their youngest little sister, they were happy for her. For what she had just experienced and for the fact that she would live on.

They made love several more times that night. They rubbed, they mated. There were only a few crumbs left of the scales.

And then, come morning, as the sun was giving a cheery ‘hello’ to the new day, the little mermaid had turned into nothing more than a soggy bucket of sea foam. Just a bit of dampness and white fluff was all the prince found in his bed when he woke up.

“What on earth happened?” wailed her sisters, their mouths flapping in confusion.

“How could this have gone so wrong?” they demanded, giving the sea witch the sort of dirty looks you’d reserve for a lost sock.

The wicked old sea witch just scratched her head and mumbled to herself, “Oh boy, I’m such a forgetful old bat. I forgot to mention she needed to marry him first!”

Don’t make a fuss. You know you’re better off than the little mermaid, so don’t be tight—chip in!