“Another day in paradise…”

The ocean waves lap at your feet. The boat gently rocks under you. The wind plays through your hair. You feel the warmth of the sun, bathing you in light, dancing over the turquoise water of the bay. You are in the middle of the perfect vacation: just you, your girlfriend, and a tropical retreat all to yourselves. Away from all the troubles and cares of the world… and that damn magic shop she worked at. Soon after she’d started her apprenticeship, you’d become the ‘test subject’ for no end of spells and potions she’d been learning.

When she suggested you take the boat out and do a bit of diving in the cool and clear waters, promising she wouldn’t bring any potions or weird artefacts, you’d happily accepted. In hindsight, maybe you should have realised it was too good to be true.

“You got the wetsuits?” you call back to her as you idly play with the valve on the scuba tank.

You feel her hands on your shoulders, firm against your skin, slowly rubbing down onto your chest. Her touch is warm and electric, the familiar sensation of her magic working its way into your body.

“I didn’t think we’d need wetsuits,” she replies, a teasing whisper in your ear. Maybe you should try to slip away, escape her touch before it is too late…? Another part of you wants to linger, wants to feel your body bending to her whims. You stay still, held by her hands, letting yourself fall under her spell. “Don’t worry, this will be the dive of your dreams…”

You look down at your bare chest, watching her fingers playing over your skin, pressing down into soft flesh. Whirls of black seem to spill out from them, the curls of magic transforming your body. A strange tingling, tightening sensation spreads with it, your insides squeezed by your transforming skin. It feels like it’s melting, your cells mingling together as they become rubber under her touch. The tingling grows, bringing a pleasant warmth with it, bubbles fizzing and popping as your skin changes into dense foam, pushing out against her touch.

Your body yields to her magic.

She pauses a moment, leaving you gasping from the sensations. Your chest rises and falls, your transformed skin stretching with each breath. All the definition of your chest had faded away, fat and muscle and nipples all smoothed out into a gentle curve of neoprene rubber. Your girlfriend leans back in, her chest brushing against your back, sliding her arms under your shoulders. Your skin crumples slightly as she moves her hands down your belly. Creases form, running out from her fingertips like ripples on water, the wake of her touch transforming more of your body. Your insides feel strange, dull, muted. Your skin is the part of you that matters now, disconnected from the crude body beneath. The tingling warmth of her touch spreads down further and further. More of your body transforms, her magic overflowing, running out in rivers across your skin. Flowing over your shoulders, arms tensing as they transform, smoothing into the black sleeves of the wetsuit you’re becoming.

Her fingers run around your waist, squeezing gently, your skin tightening and drawing in. Brushing hands across your thighs, the warmth of her spreading deep into you. Soon they are neoprene, too. Smooth and taut just like your chest. By now, you feel a strange ache inside you. Not quite hollow but a growing desire, a need to be filled. Still her hands hold you in her sway. Carefully, firmly, she runs them between your legs. Your heart flutters in your chest, a shuddering gasp escaping your mouth. She presses on, squeezing down against your body, smoothing and merging and flattening everything down until only a smooth rise of neoprene remains. Then she runs her hands behind you, slipping over your ass, smoothing your cheeks together into a firm curve of neoprene, cushioned underneath you.

“Just relax,” she says, her hands brushing against your back. You feel them along your spine, now smoothing out, just like the rest of you. That tightening feeling you felt across your skin seems to blossom out through your body again, running down your limbs, looping around the edges of them, tensing half-way up your neck. A tension spreads through them, pulling on your body, drawing skin together to form thick seams, reshaping your body into something more slender, more curvy, perfectly sized for your girlfriend.

“Here comes the fun part.” Her fingers dig in at the base of your neck, pinching part of your skin, tugging it gently away. You feel part of your rubbery skin harden under her touch, cooling, solidifying into… something. She runs her fingers down, the stiffening feeling travelling with it, running all the way down your spin. Skin pinching together, cooling, hardening. She keeps going, fingers running between the slight rise of each ass-cheek, before slipping between your legs as your new zipper forms across the bump between your legs.

You gingerly reach out to touch it, your fingers pressing against the zipper, sending another shiver of pleasure through you. It bends under your touch, offering an almost playful resistance, your neoprene stretching and deforming around it.

“Hey,” your girlfriend teases, “no touching… that’s my job.”

She shifts back a little before spinning you around. Your body is now too relaxed, too weak to resist… even if you wanted to. Like so many times before, you are at her mercy. A smile spreads over her face, gazing at your changing body. Her fingers find your own, squeezing them. They collapse under her touch, her magic weaving through them until they fade away, shrinking back into your neoprene arms. You glance into one of them, looking down into the hollow length of it. You can still move it, barely, though every part of you feels weak and sluggish, crumpling and folding into itself each time you bend your arm.

She pulls your legs out towards her, grabbing a foot with each hand. Your girlfriend presses down firmly, and you watch as your toes flatten, squashing flat between her fingers. She keeps going, drawing them out, pressing your soft skin together. It starts to harden, black neoprene shifting to bright orange plastic as she works them into the rough shape of diving fins, the edges gleaming in the warm sunlight. With each shape roughed out, she takes a few moments to adjust the fine features: moulding your plastic flesh into supporting ridges, perfecting the shape, moving back to the rest of your feet as the soft skin toughens into rubber shoes. Before, with something of a flourish, she pulls each free of your body, sending a ripple of pleasure through your neoprene body.

“That’s better,” she smiles, and you smile, too, “though I’m going to have to do something with that head of yours.”

You brace yourself as her hands carefully reach around your neck. You feel the tightening sensation again, a growing tension across your neck until it abruptly releases. The world seems to lurch downwards as your girlfriend tugs your head free of your changing body. It should be terrifying you, yet you feel only excitement as she spins you around. You can see your transformed body properly for the first time, now just a wetsuit somehow holding a roughly upright shape, any real trace of your old self lost. Yet it’s still you, however distant, however transformed, your soul woven into its neoprene material. You wave, and the wetsuit waves to you.

“Okay, that’s weird,” you say, somehow still able to speak. You learned a while ago not to question things like this. Besides, you were enjoying yourself too much to worry about anything.

“It’s going to get weirder,” your girlfriend chuckles, starting to gently mold your head like clay. You feel her hands pressing in, squeezing, and your body collapsing without any resistance under her touch. You try to make sense of the feelings, all while your view of the world shifts this way and that. Her artistic touch first shapes your head into a rough doughnut, running round and around, flattening out the back of your head into a wide band of elastic fabric, leaving little more than your eyes left on the front. Fingers press against your eyes from behind, compressing them into hard plastic, shaping what was left around into the rubber seal of goggles.

She lifts your head up, stretching out your elastic skin, looping your head around hers. Your eye-line shifts down, her fingers obscuring the edges of your vision. You feel the warmth of her face pressing against the edges of your goggles, her hair tickling against the elastic band. Another few tweaks, and she was satisfied.

The whole experience was strangely intimate, and not simply because she is wearing you just like an ordinary pair of diving goggles. You can see what she sees, your perspective matching her own, looking down at her naked body and your own transformed body before her. You can no longer speak, not that you want to. You feel content just to watch, and experience. To feel the warmth and love of your girlfriend as she wears you. As she uses you.

She moves herself behind your body, reaching towards the silver zipper glinting on your back. Carefully, she starts to unzip, and you feel what little strength was left in your body fading away. Your neoprene skin slumps, folding over in places, limp in her hands. You feel her opening up your back, the hollow sensation inside your body yearning to feel her within you. You watch her slip a foot inside, feel the shape of her pushing out against your neoprene skin, stretching out your leg as she fills it with her own.

Her foot emerges, and she quickly pulls the rest of you close, slipping her other foot inside. You start to feel the warmth of her, filling you from within. She looks down, and you look with her, past her chest to your crumpled form gathered around her waist. She tugs you up slightly, tightening your neoprene skin over her curves, pinching and adjusting until you lay perfectly across her body.

Arms next, slipping through your own, bunching up your fabric as she pulls her arms through. Then she reaches around, roughly pulling your open back around her own, the inside of your chest laying against her own. She leans forward, and you feel her muscles tensing and shifting inside you, stretching in some places, loosening in others. Fingers find your zipper again, tugging it closed and running up between her legs, a shiver of pleasure running through your body. You feel yourself closing up around her, wrapping and tightening around her form. Your ass hugging hers, your waist squeezing gently around her own. Another few adjustments, and her breasts fill out your chest, neoprene skin stretching out tightly around them. A final shuffle, another tug of the zipper, and you’re sealed around her body.

Each movement she makes is echoed in your body. Every lift of her arms, every step across the boat. Her hands running down her body, running against your neoprene skin, squashing you into her soft flesh. You feel the rise of her chest with each breath. The warmth of her body. The flutter of her heartbeat as she explores every inch of your shared form. You feel carried by her, your body totally at her mercy.

She sits at the edge of the boat, dangling her feet into the water. Waves lap against her, splashing into your fabric. The water is cool, a sharp contrast to her warmth. The ocean’s spray settles on your skin, beading on the surface, tickling as it runs down. You feel the weight of her pressing down on your rear, squashing flat underneath you, her ass stretching you almost to your limits. She reaches back, another shift in her body, and you feel fingers gripping your feet.

“Can’t forget these,” she smirks, her smile lifting her cheeks against the edges of your goggles. She slips a foot inside, then another, your tough rubber skin tight and snug around them. Another splash, and you feel the slap of cool water against your flippers, the shock of vibration cascading through them.

Another shift on your bodies, and she pulls at the straps of a scuba tank. Your arms flex back with hers, looping under the coarse straps of the tank, the warmth of friction brushing across your skin. Then the weight of the tank settles over your shoulders, squashing your skin flat. A tug on the straps, and you feel the bulk of it pressing against your back, the sensation strangely comforting.

“So, I think I promised you the dive of your dreams?” she says, a smirk in her voice adjusting the mouthpiece in her hands, “you can thank me later.” You feel her face shift subtly, the impression of a wink.

Mouthpiece in, she spins around, back to the water, and braces. The world lurches again, and you feel the shock of cool water against your body, vibrations cascading through your skin into hers. Nothing visible above save blue water, the dance of sunlight across its surface, and the shadow of your body. You feel the tingle of a thousand bubbles playing across your skin, air escaping as the water seeps into you. Cool, at first, but soon warmed by her body as the two of you sank deeper.

Flipping over, you see a world of colour, brilliant corals and vibrant fish dancing between them. Your girlfriend dives down, her muscles flexing under your skin, deeper into the ocean depths. You feel the ocean pressing all around you. Any gaps or wrinkles left between the two of you are flattened by the ocean, your neoprene skin adhering to her own. She kicks her legs, swimming closer to the coral, fish dancing around you. Powerful muscles flex, bulging within you. Your flattened toes flex, straining with each movement, pushing back against the ocean to propel both of you forward. The more she swims, the more in-tune you feel with her body. Each movement, each heartbeat, seems like it’s your own.

She was right. This was the dive of your dreams.

✧

Hours later, your girlfriend hauls herself out of the boat, hastily freeing herself from the weight of the scuba tank. You feel the warmth of the sun against your skin, already starting to dry you. She carefully peels you from her body, and you feel the full weight of the water filling your skin for the first time, dragging the shape of you down into a crumpled mess of neoprene. Then you feel the hard edges of the boat’s railing as she drapes you out to dry, tugging you out as flat as possible. Water slowly drains, tickling as it filters through you before dripping down to the deck below. She props your flipper-feet awkwardly against the boat’s side, upside down, not quite stopping water pooling at the back of your toes. The deck of the ship seems to swing in your vision, all you can see except the occasional drip of water as your goggles dangle from a hook.

“Sorry, babe, I can’t change you back just yet. Hopefully you’ll be dry enough before dinner, or ––” she pauses a moment, her voice half-teasing, “I might just go for another dive tomorrow…”