Suck me Softly - chapter 6 Detours Discoveries

Katie returned Stacy and Cassie to the boat, her face flushed from the sun. The 'dinghy' bobbed gently alongside the larger vessel, its rope tether stretching taut then slackening with the rhythm of the waves.

“Is that everyone?” Heather asked, her voice tight with urgency. The usual breezy tone was gone, replaced by an edge that hadn't been there before.

“Yeah, just need to tie off the dinghy properly.” Katie responded, a pause in her tone, noting Heather's uncharacteristic anxiety. "Everything alright?"

“Okay," Heather announced, already halfway to the helm. "I’m pulling anchor. We need to get underway. The latest storm report has a squall blowing through near the island, and it’s not looking horrible but I don't want us to get caught in it."

Heather moved with a surprising amount of purpose. Stacy, sensing the shift in atmosphere, followed her towards the bow, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach.

Cassie, meanwhile, decided to ask about their friend. "So, how's Monica doing?" she asked Katie. “Is she okay?”

"She was taking a nap last I checked," Katie replied. "She really needs the rest. I'll check her temperature again after we've set sail and things have calmed down a little."

Cassie nodded, a furrow in her brow. "Alright. I'm going to find a comfortable seat and maybe a drink. Let me know if I can help out any, I could bring her a drink, maybe some water?" She headed towards the salon, the boat's gentle rocking a little less soothing now.

“Sure, let's get underway and we’ll go check on her.” Katie said.

Stacy watched Heather at the anchor winch, Stacy had not considered where the anchor actually was… she figured it coiled up off the side of the ship not down the center. There was a metallic screech followed by the electric hum of the winch, as Heather pressed the retract button and the chain groaned into life. The anchor chain, thick and heavy, rattled against the deck as it was dragged from the seabed. Heather worked quickly, her bare feet planted firmly on the deck.

“So, where exactly is this resort?” Stacy asked, trying to sound casual, but the question came out with a slight tremor.

“It’s on the tip of Roatan,” Heather replied, her eyes fixed on the rising anchor chain. “A larger island, about six hours away.”

“Tender is secure,” Katie announced, coming onto the bow from the salon. “So what’s the deal with this storm? The weather report looked fine this morning.” She reached for the pole from Heather to guide the chain into its designated groove.

“Six hours? So we’ll be there… when?” Stacy interrupted Katies question.

“About nine tonight, hopefully,” Heather answered Stacy, then turned to face Katie. “The weather report was fine for heading on our prior course west. But this squall… it’s popped up fast heading southeast, and we’ve got to backtrack a bit to reach Roatan. If we run the engines with the sail, we should make it there just before it hits.”

“Backtrack?” Stacy echoed, her voice rising slightly.

“Come here, Stacy, I’ll show you on the chart,” Heather said, putting a reassuring hand on Stacy’s arm. The anchor broke the surface of the water covered in silt from the seabed. Katie expertly guided the anchor into its slot and closed the access panel with a click, then followed Heather and Stacy to the navigation station.

Heather pointed to the navigation screen, her finger tracing a line across the digital map. “This is where we are,” she said, indicating a small icon. “And over here…” The screen panned past a few waypoints, “was where we were headed west.” Heather panned back east past the ship icon and a bit further to a small green dot near the top, and finally settled on a depiction of Roatan: a large island with a long, slender arm extending eastward.

“The main city center is on the west side of the island. And here, on the east side…" She zoomed into the slender finger of land. "This is Whit's clinic here. Katies doctor friend. That's the road leading back into town, and a helipad for VIPs coming from the airport."

Stacy felt a flicker of relief. The prospect of civilization, even in the form of a clinic and a helipad, was comforting. At least they were going somewhere a little less remote for a change. The storm still worried her, but the idea of a solid roof and medical assistance for her friend, and maybe herself should she need it, was a welcome thought.

Heather started the powerful engines, a low rumble vibrating through the hull of the luxury catamaran. She adjusted the course eastward, pointing the sleek vessel towards the open sea, the promise of land, help, and relaxation hanging in the air. The ship's wake began to form, and the catamaran slipped away from the lagoon, leaving the shoreline behind. The new leg of their journey began.

“Hey Katie, let’s go ahead and hoist the sail!” Heather called out.

"Ummmm, Can I help?" Stacy asked, eager to feel useful anyway she could. If she could have a job to do that’d keep her mind off the storm, Monica, and her own issues. Otherwise she’d just be stewing on everything.

Katie grinned, happy for another set of hands. "Absolutely! Come on, I'll show you how." Katie guided Stacy through the process of racking the line through the winch, explaining each step. Stacy's initial awkwardness quickly turned to surprised delight as she realized the power the wind held in her hands, the taut line singing with force. She giggled as the sail filled, the boat responding instantly with a surge of speed. The world seemed to tilt slightly, the spray of saltwater a cool kiss on her face. Looking out at the vast expanse of water, Stacy felt a sense of freedom she hadn't anticipated. She smiled brightly, then headed back towards the salon, the taste of salt lingering on her lips.

Inside, she found Cassie lounging on one of the plush couches. "Hey Cas, Lets go check on Monica, and then I'm going to rinse all this saltwater off me. You probably should too."

“Both of those are a good idea,” Cassie agreed, stretching languidly. "I feel a bit sticky."

As the girls headed towards the cabins, Katie called out from the bow, "Ship's got plenty of fresh water on board, so enjoy the showers!" Her voice was cheerful, but Stacy thought she detected a hint of tiredness in it.

A shower sounded good to Katie, too. The sun and wind were leaving her feeling gritty and drained. She briefly considered leaving the deck to shower below quickly, but knowing they needed to make good time she'd have to shower later.  She would find time after they either beat the storm or were finally docked at Whit’s clinic. The steady rhythm of the waves and the pull of the sail were hypnotic, soothing the slight unease that had been nagging at her all day about her ears and ‘make-up’. Several things felt very different about this trip, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. “Whit can fix this… I miss him, surely he knows what to do for everyone.” she thought.

Cassie approached Monica's door and rapped lightly. “Knock knock,” she said, her voice gentle. “You feeling okay?” She listened to the silence for a moment. 

“Can I get you anything?” Still no response. A flicker of concern crossed Cassie's face. She gently pushed the door open a crack. Inside Monica was asleep in her bunk, her breathing deep and even. 

A slight snore escaped Monica's lips. Cassie fixed the covers on top of Monica. She noticed what looked like a rough grey scab down Monica's spine. Cassie fingers pulled Monica's hair out of her face. “I hope you get feeling better,” she whispered to her friend.

Cassie quietly closed the door, relieved that her friend was at least resting. Emerging from the cabin area, Cassie found Stacy in the adjacent hall. "How is she?" Stacy asked, her face mirroring Cassie's concern.

“Asleep. I really hope she starts feeling better,” Cassie repeated, her voice laced with worry.

“Well, that’s why we’re headed towards this resort, right? To get her a doc and some proper rest and relaxation," Stacy said, trying to sound optimistic.

“I know, but I hate that she’s been feeling bad and hasn’t said anything," Cassie said, frustration evident in her voice.

"You going to rinse off, too?" Stacy asked Cassie, changing the subject breaking the slightly tense silence.

“Yeah, I feel all salty from the water," Cassie agreed, rubbing her arm absently. "But, do you mind letting them know Monica’s still sleeping?."

“Sure thing Cas,” Stacy said heading back up the steps.

Cassie entered her stateroom near the end of the tip of the catamarans port section. It still bore the mess of the morning. As stewardess it was Katie’s job to turn over the rooms, but as she was also their masseuse she hadn't been able to yet. There was still a discarded towel on the chair, a book lying open on the bedside table. 

Cassie quickly untied her top, sighing with relief as she released her breasts from the confines of her bikini top. The boat rocked gently, swaying her boobs slightly in time with the ships movements as she walked into the small bathroom, ready for the relief of a freshwater shower. 

She closed the door behind her and started the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Dropping her bottoms and stepping into the shower, she let the warm water cascade over her skin, washing away the salt and the lingering unease.

Cassie soaped up her body, her hands moving almost automatically. Yet as she soaped her back, she noticed something strange. Her skin felt oddly tight and stiff near the small of her back, and when she ran her fingers down to the back of her thighs, she felt a series of small, distinct lines or divots. 

Perhaps she was exaggerating what she felt. Looking down Her toes too looked a bit different, and as she examined them closer, she saw a faint reddish webbing between each one. 

She stood back up letting the water run down her belly and front. “What is going on with me?” As she stood she felt the water run down the front of her thighs. But standing there she could feel the water move around several areas.

 New areas that the water was splashing over and around. Taking her hands she felt there were faint, fan-shaped bumps that ran down the front of her thighs, shimmering slightly in the dim light of the shower. They resembled thin fans, delicate and translucent, like miniature white chinese fans grafted onto her skin. “What the hell NOW?? Are these things …..jellyfish? No, I didn't get in the water… What the fuck is this?” she tried to get a fingernail under one but it didnt raise. “IS it stuck to me?” 

“uUmmmm… Ow!” she thought in frustration trying again to peel one off as a sharp pain came from one of the growths. Her hair fell over her face. 

“Gah!” she said standing up as she pulled her hair back, feeling of the water running down her neck. As she did, her fingers brushed against two small protrusions on the crown of her head. They felt like…little stiff stubs? She pulled the curtain to see in the mirror.

 “What the…” A shiver ran down her spine, and not just from the water. She quickly got out of the shower and pulled her hair over to see in the mirror. Where she thought she’d just bumped her head were two reddish slender nubs. Maybe 2 inches long. Clearly what had been keeping her hat from sitting on her head right at the beach. She touched one and let go with a gasp. She could feel her hand touching it. Not like a pain from a knot but like a finger touching her back.

“Noo no no no no? Her mind raced, was this a hallucination? “Am I getting sick like Monica?”.

Stacy peeled off her salt-laced clothes, the rough denim leaving faint red marks on her skin. She shivered, anticipating the warm water. As she turned to adjust the faucet, her gaze drifted downwards. That's when she noticed it.

Her legs. They weren't quite right.

The healthy tan she'd cultivated over the summer was marred by patches of grey and white, a bizarre, mottled pattern that spread from her thighs down. The skin felt…hard. Not the taut, toned firmness she was used to, but an unyielding, almost chitinous texture. Panic began to bubble in her chest.

She ran her hands up her thighs, her fingers tracing the disturbing new contours. Clear segmenting lines, like the plates of some strange armor, encircled the top of her legs. A wave of nausea washed over her. What in God's name was happening?

“This isn't just chafing!” She said, Pulling her panties down to see better. 

Lower down she looked at herself, a more profound horror awaited. She ran her hands over her mons and pubic mound. “Oh?? where?” Stacy couldn’t finish her thought, she wanted to ask why all of the hair was gone, vanished without a trace, leaving behind only the strange, hardened skin. Her fingers brushed against the smooth skin above her panty line, and she gasped at the transition.

 What should have been the soft curve from her pelvis to her groin was interrupted by a series of firm, unyielding lines, creating distinct panels. As she moved her hands downward, she felt more of the plates, smaller, flanking around her genitals. She pushed around and felt the new plates starting to fuse and become solid making the area between her legs flatter. Her eyes widened as she focused on her vulva. Where delicate folds should have been, two bulbous, segmented lumps protruded on either side. Nascent, grotesque things that hinted at something utterly alien. “What the fuck!”

Her hands and gaze instinctively flew to her rear. It was larger, she could feel it, wider than it should be. Pressing against the flesh, she found more of the hard, chitinous spots between her legs extended under her butt cheeks. They didn’t yield, didn’t give way to pressure like normal muscle or fat. They felt…solid. Feeling farther up she could feel two more distinct lumps on each side of her ass.

“No….., Nope, it's ummm… I just need to clean it all off!”,  she thought as she stepped into the small shower stall. The cold water shocked her system. “GAH! Cold cold cold!” Turning the handle to warm, She grabbed a wash rag as the water warmed.

Lathering a generous portion of soap onto the rag she scrubbed frantically at her legs, hoping to remove the discoloration, to rub away the horrifying textures. “Please! Come OFF! Come OOOFFFF!”. But it was no use. The strange mosaic remained, impervious to her desperate attempts. The segmented lines remained, stark and undeniable.

Frustrated, she let the spray beat against her flesh. Aside from her skin something just seemed wrong about the shower. Her ears were ringing with a sound. The water didn't cascade smoothly, as it should have. Instead, as it hit the hardened patches the water made a distinct, unnatural clatter. A hollow, echoing sound, like pebbles striking stone. It was wrong, deeply wrong, and it resonated within her bones, amplifying the dread that was rapidly consuming her.

The shower water ran down her hair into her eyes, blurring her vision. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a nightmare, a bizarre hallucination brought on by exhaustion? “Monica is sick, maybe everyone got sick?” She thought. After a while of self pity on the floor of the shower Stacy remembered. 

“We're going to a clinic… There's a real doctor there. He’ll know how to deal with this,” maybe it's just really bad scurvy? Don't panic yet, we're on the way to get help already.”

A few hours later Heather was wrestling with the helm, the catamaran was bucking and swaying like a wild bronco. Dark, swollen clouds chased them eastward, mirroring the growing unease in her stomach. The sea, once a welcoming turquoise, had turned a sullen grey, its chop growing more aggressive with each passing minute. "Damn it," she muttered, squinting at the horizon. "We need to beat this storm."

Below deck, the sudden lurch of the boat roused Monica from a fitful sleep. She sat up, her head throbbing, her back itching, and a wave of nausea washing over her from sleeping too long. The cabin air was thick and heavy, clinging to her skin like a damp shroud. She was still drenched in sweat, her shirt plastered to her body. A shiver ran down her spine, and not entirely from the chill.

Her hand instinctively went to her groin, and a jolt of confused arousal shot through her. The small, sensitive penis that her clitoris had morphed into was still there. The memory of the intense pleasure she had from earlier flooded her senses, a strange mix of shame and exhilaration. She quickly pulled on her clothes, trying to suppress the unsettling emotions churning within her. However, bending over to pull on shorts was more difficult than earlier. As if her back didn't want to bend forward.

Climbing on deck, she found her friends in the salon and Heather at the helm battling the elements. "Hey guys," Monica croaked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Heather glanced up, her brow furrowed with concern. "Hey you're up. How are you doing? Sorry for the rough ride. We're trying to outrun this storm. We're heading straight for the island clinic. Should be there soon, hopefully before this thing really hits."

"Clinic?" Monica asked, confused. "What's going on?"

Katie, who was huddled near Heather, her face pale, piped up, "You were pretty out of it, Monica. You might have spiked a fever. We decided to change course and head to my friend's clinic on Roatan island. We think they can get everyone feeling better."

Monica felt a pang of guilt. She had unintentionally altered their carefully planned itinerary. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice laced with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to screw everything up."

Cassie waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. Besides…" she trailed off, a shadow crossing her face. "Let's just say you're not the only one who could use a little…medical attention." she pulled slightly on the bandana she’d tied to cover her hair.

Stacy nodded in agreement, her eyes darting nervously towards the churning water. "Yeah, seriously. We're all in this together."

Monica noticed the strange, almost embarrassed glances that passed between them. She couldn't shake the feeling that something more was going on than she realized.

The storm was gaining on them. As they approached the island, the sky unleashed its fury. Rain lashed down in blinding sheets, blurring the coastline. The wind howled like a banshee, threatening to rip the sails to shreds. Heather and Katie, with a Herculean effort, dropped the main sail and finally steered the boat into a small, sheltered cove. Katie hopped off onto the dock and secured the ship quickly.

“That building up there is the resort. They should be expecting us. Leave your bags here. We'll get them in the morning,” Heather yelled to the girls. “Be careful it's very slippery and dark!”

They scrambled ashore, soaked to the bone and shivering. The relentless downpour had finally eased, leaving behind a sky bruised with purples and greys. The catamaran, once their safe shelter, was being buffeted against the dock. The closest building was, as luck would have it, the island clinic’s resort wing, a sprawling, modern structure that seemed strangely out of place on the otherwise tropical island.

They burst through the clinic doors, dripping rainwater onto the pristine tiled floor. A lone receptionist, startled by their sudden appearance, looked up from her computer, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"We...we called ahead," Heather stammered, her teeth chattering. "We're caught in the storm." Behind her, Cassie wrung out the saltwater from her already drenched hair, while Katie and 

Stacy just shivered, their faces pale.

The receptionist, after a moment of bewildered silence, her eyes flicking from the group's disheveled state to the immaculate lobby, nodded, typed a few things into the computer and directed them to a few nearby rooms. The three girls quickly entered the same room together. The spacious room had a large bathroom equipped with fluffy towels and plush robes.

"Oh, thank heavens!" Cassie breathed, grabbing a towel and immediately starting to rub her arms.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable and get dry. There's a room for each of you. I'll be back with your room keys.” The receptionist said as she led Heather and Katie to the adjacent rooms.

“Is Whit in?” Katie asked, a hopeful note creeping into her voice. Whit was the reason they were here, even if not in the way she'd have wanted.

“He’ll be back in the morning. He's in town today. But I've already let him know you've arrived. You must be Katie?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?” Katie’s brow furrowed.

“This is your room here.” The receptionist gestured to a door at the end of the short hallway.

Katie opened the door, still dripping and feeling a little self-conscious. The room was beautiful, airy and bright despite the storm raging outside. And right there, on the small kitchen table, was a large arrangement of vibrant tropical flowers. Hibiscus, orchids, birds of paradise, a riot of colour against the neutral tones of the room.

“It's from Whit,” the receptionist said softly, a smirk on her lips.

Katie smiled back, her heart doing a little skip. She knew it was a good idea to come here for help, even if it was a far cry from the romantic getaway she had envisioned them taking after this charter. And it looked like Whit missed her too. As the receptionist left to get the room keys for the other girls, Katie walked towards the flowers and picked up the small card nestled amongst the leaves.

"Welcome back, I'm glad your here – even under these circumstances," she read. The card was signed with a simple "W." Relief washed over her, chasing away some of the lingering chill and fear. She couldn't wait to see him, to tell him everything that had happened. Maybe this strange start could still turn into something special. The island, even battered by a storm, held a certain promise, especially with Whit waiting.