City Nymph (Complete)

[Eelskin]

Hello people! I finished this story a while ago, but I realised I hadn't posted it here. I'm including the complete .doc file at the bottom of this post, which you can download if you feel like skipping ahead to some of the later chapters, but I'll still be updating this story with a new chapter every few days.

This story contains SW, SM, and GTS, as well as graphic sex. There is some intimidation and some non-consensual transformation but it is (almost entirely) gentle.

Enjoy!


City Nymph


Part 1

I had known that Kristen was strange. Not through anything she'd said, or anything anyone had told me. Just a feeling. She’d be in the bar most every night, but she never seemed to come with anyone. She didn’t seem ever to bring friends. It wasn’t a singles bar or anything, but she seemed determined to meet everyone who had a drink there. She’d float from conversation to conversation, and insert herself wherever she felt like it.

It couldn’t have been hard; she was cute. I mean, really cute. Not in a drop-dead-gorgeous way- she didn’t look like a supermodel or anything, she was just really nice to look at. She was short, to start with. Probably just a little more than five feet tall. Her hair was dark brown and it hung over the left side of her face, down to her chin, and it didn’t seem to ever get longer. She wasn’t thin. I mean, she wasn’t fat, but she had some meat on her. Maybe a little chunky. Honestly, she was even a little thinner than I usually like women, but her tits didn’t suffer for it. Man, were they spectacular. She didn’t dress in any kind of fancy way, usually just jeans and casual clothes. You know. Cute.

And I got to watch her every night, and every time she ordered a drink, she’d tip me and flash me the most brilliant smile… make me forget where I was for a second. Make me forget my shitty job and my debt and my ex-girlfriend.

Wait- I take that back. It wasn’t an entirely shitty job. Because I got to hang out with her all night. Until 3:00, anyway. But if she ever stopped coming… well, then the job would lose its only perk. Kristen.

And then the rumours started. The police came by one afternoon and started asking about a few people. I didn’t know any of them- maybe one of the photos looked a little familiar- but it seemed that a few people had disappeared recently, men and women, and there was no connection whatsoever between them. No friends in common, different neighbourhoods, different jobs… the only thing they had in common was this bar. So the cops asked us to keep our eyes open and left. No big deal.

But it was a few hours after they left that Chris suddenly had a brainstorm. It was only 7:30 and the bar had barely begun to fill up. The two of us were watching the hockey game on the big-screen and he looked over at me.

“Holy shit.”

“I know. Can’t believe we’re losing to Boston- again.”

“No… I just thought of something.”

“Yeah?”

“Kristen.”

He had my attention. “What about her?”

“I knew I had seen that guy before.”

“What guys?”

“You know. The dudes the police are looking for.”

“Huh?”

“I saw one of them go home with Kristen last week.”

I gave him a long, hard look. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

I looked back at the TV. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno. Tell you what. See if she picks anyone up tonight. If she does, remember him.”

“I’ll bet you it’s nothing.”

“I bet you $15.”

“Done.”

And we shook on it.

--

Kristen came that night at 10:45 and sauntered up to the bar. “Hey Richard!”

I moved over to meet her. “Hey pretty girl. What can I get you?”

“The usual. A pint.”

“One pint of Boreale.”

“Thanks hon.” She tipped me and smiled at me, brushing her hair away from her face. She left.

“Be careful, there.”

“Huh?” I turned around. There was Chris, who had just watched the exchange. “15 bucks,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And don’t disappear yourself.”

“Man, if I get the chance, I’m gone.”

He laughed and went to serve someone who had been trying to get his attention.

--

Four hours later, and we were no closer to resolving our bet. Kristen had been chatting up people all over the bar, but there seemed to be no lucky guy. Usually we’d be able to predict who she was planning on taking home, but tonight she didn’t seem to spend any more time with one guy than with the next. Slim pickings, I guess.

No big deal. The bet could wait.

So, come 3:30, after I had finished counting the cash and mopping the floor, I stepped outside to head home. I had had a few drinks myself, and was kind of tipsy, and moving a bit more slowly than usual. As I was locking the door, I heard a soft moan from not far away. I turned, and there, sitting on the bench right next to the door, she was. Kristen was asleep on the bench right outside the bar. Holy shit, I thought. I guess I should have cut her off about four drinks ago. I finished locking the door and walked up to her.

“Hey, Kristen.” No response.

“Kristen.” I shook her shoulder gently, and she slowly, with a great effort, opened her eyes. It took a few seconds for her to recognize me, but when she did, a drunken, lazy grin spread itself across her face.

“Rich-ard. Uh, hey Rich-ard.”

“What you doing out here, pretty girl?”

“Uh, jus’ takin’ a li’l nap.”

“Well this is no place for a nap. How about I call you a cab?”

“O-kay, yer a cab.” And she started laughing hysterically.

Alright, then. I stepped to the side of the street and hailed a passing taxi. “Where do you live?”

“Uh, on Outremont. Wanna see?”

Do I… “I’d love to, but I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Rich-ard…”

“Yeah?”

“D’you really think I’m pretty?”

“Sure do.”

“Rich-ard…”

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

And she smiled at me again, like she just said something hilarious, before her eyes glazed over and she ducked her head between her knees and vomited on the ground.

--

“Thanks fer comin’, Rich-ard” We had gone back into the bar and gotten her a glass of water, but she hadn’t sobered up very much, it seemed.

“Well I worry. Wanted to make sure you got home okay.” I stepped back to

“Are you- you sure you can’t come up?”

“Well, the thing is, I—” But that was as much as I was able to get out before she pulled me in to her body with surprising strength, and kissed me on the lips. Clumsily, a little messily, but I did not care. I kissed her back, and we pulled away from each other. She looked into my eyes with such a lustful expression that I couldn’t turn her down any more. I paid the cabbie and we went up, her leaning on me and trying to make out with me and unlock the door at the same time.

--

The sex was amazing. First-time sex had never been that good. The night passed like a blur- I have no idea how long we spent fucking, but when I woke up in the morning, the sunlight was coming in through the window, and the bed next to me was empty. I felt wonderfully refreshed, as though I had slept for ten hours. I felt the side of the bed, and it was cool. How long ago did she get up? I lay there for a few more minutes, then I heard my stomach growling and got up. I put some pants on and walked outside. I heard someone preparing something in the kitchen, so I walked in.

“Hey there pretty girl,” I said as I walked through the door.

Standing there was someone I had never seen before. She turned around and looked at me, smiling. “Well, thanks for that. I promise not to tell Kristen that you hit on me as soon as you got up. I assume you’re Richard.” She was tall, thin with long blonde hair past her shoulders. She was also gorgeous. Not quite as gorgeous as Kristen, but beautiful nonetheless.

“I… uh…”

“Good to meet you. I’m Amanda. Kristen’s my roommate. She had to go to work, though, so she says sorry.”

“Oh. Uh, no problem. Good morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Uh, yeah. Afternoon.”

“She asked me to get you to write your number for her, though.”

“Sure.” I saw a whiteboard on the fridge with a note that said Stop eating my oranges written on it. I took the marker and write 555 8566 Richard in a corner. I let myself out to avoid awkward roommate-socializing, and headed back home to take a shower.

--

That very night I got a call.

“Hey pretty boy.”

“Kristen?”

“Sorry I had to leave so early this morning.”

“Hey, no problem.”

“How about I make it up to you tonight?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Can you come over in about an hour?”

Um, let me think. “Yeah, sure! I don’t remember your address, though.”

“It’s 6587 Outremont, apartment 301.”

“Hang on, hang on…” I fumbled for a paper and pen, and managed to get it. “Okay. 6587 Outremont. Got it.”

“Good.” I could hear her smiling into the phone. “I have a surprise for you.”