She sloshed gently on the waves of the ocean, clinging just enough to a donut life preserver. Barely conscious, she didn't notice the choppiness of the waves decrease until they were a clear mirror of the sky, nor the vanishment of the clouds above. She barely felt her feet rest against a wooden platform, then her knees, her hips, her entire body settling on a wooden deck with the life preserver as a pillow. A hand gently took her chin, and tilted her head towards a face blurred by her condition. It caressed her cheek gently before she faded out of consciousness.
* * *
Marilyn slowly awoke, trying to gather her thoughts while she performed the arduous task of waking up. First off, what happened? How did she get home? No, wait. She was lying in on a thin wooden cot, covered with a thin blanket. Her bed was thouroughly comfortable, with fluffy sheets. She would be back in it in half a week's time, as soon as the cruise ended.
Hold, on. The Cruise. The one that went horribly wrong and shoved her out into the ocean clinging to a life preserver! Marilyn's senses bypassed the traffic jam of her usual wake-up routine, and hopped into overdrive. She sat straight up in the bed, glancing around with the sheets clutched to her chest. Her bed was thin, and severly off-white. It was in a room made out of greyish-silver panels of wood. Next to the bed was the life preserver. Lying over a poorly-made rack were her clothes, comprising of a dress and her underwear. Marilyn did a quick double-take under the covers to confirm that, yes, she was sans clothing.
Marilyn slowly stood up, looking around with caution and clinging to the covers as a make-shift dress. There was a net filled with glowing rocks hung to the wooden ceiling, and the wooden floor, though uneven, wasn't rough and unpleasant. It was a bizarre feeling of different finished woods being nailed together, warped, and then sanded, like a poor woodscraft project given an expert finish.
Marilyn checked her body for any injuries. As far as she knew, her bland white skin was nothing to write home about, though remarkably free of blemish. Somehow, despite being thrown off-board a sinking ship, there were no cuts or bruises. She didn't feel any pain from any injuries, either, so she must be okay physically.
As there was only one door, opposite of the bed, Marilyn opened it cautiously, peeping outside. It was a similarly-made hallway, with similar net-and-rock 'chandeliers' hanging from it. There was a door opposite hers, and two more doors on opposing sides further down. Marilyn gently sneaked out, trying to close the door quietly; it still groaned with water-infested age. At the end of the hallway closest to her was another door.
She also opened and peeked around that one, and flung it open when she saw clear blue daylight. Marilyn nearly rushed out onto the wooden deck before her, but paused when she remembered that she only had a bed cover to cover herself.
"Yeah, your clothes were too damn wet to be any good, and I wasn't sure what would fit you." said a husky woman's voice. Against the wall next to the door, a figure stood up, and turned to Marilyn, who had nearly dropped her sheet when she first heard the voice.
"My name is Shella, and I am the captain of this vessel," said the woman, bowing politely. She was a little taller than Marilyn when she stood up straight, and dressed more or less like a pirate. Smooth, large breasts threatened to burst out of the near-brassiere-like button-down shirt, with sea spray making it cling to, and outline, the nipples. The cloth pants clung tightly to her wide hips and thighs, shredded above the knees, and they were so low Marilyn imagine she could see the beginnings of Shella's buttcrack if she turned around. Between the pants and the chest was a tight, muscled abdomen, with a torn pirate's flag tied around the waist, just above the pants. A faded red bandanna kept the woman's wavy sea-weed green hair out of her eyes, which were themselves solid emerald orbs. Her nose was petite and slightly curved, but her ears were much like the fins of a fish, plus some thickness. The entirety of the woman was well-formed. She was thin where it counted and curved where it counted, with the entire body covered with bronze-colored skin. It was like the unrealistic stereotype of women was incarnated as a bizarre pirate. Marilyn was frankly shocked.
"I found you shipwrecked, and decided to bring you aboard. Be glad I did, because the stuff in these waters are...rather interesting, to say the least. What's your name?," Shella continued.
"Uh, er, m-meh-Marilyn. Di-di-did you strip me? Where are the other seamen? Where am I? What's going on?" asked Marilyn, rapid-firing questions.
"Hello, Marilyn. For your questions: Yes; there are no others; on a supernatural ship called The Sea Lilith; and some pretty serious stuff," Shella grinned. Only then did Marilyn notice the slightly-pointed teeth and the fin-like ears. "Come on to my cabin, we can talk more there, and maybe find you something to wear."
Marilyn's hand was grabbed, and she was dragged off asking, "Do you eat humans?"
Shella took Marilyn to the other side of the deck, where a tall wooden facade bordered by stairs held and impressively ornate set of pale wooden doors. "Strict definition, no," she answered as she opened the door.
The doors opened up into a large cabin section, with glass windows on three sides looking out to the calm seas. In the center of the back wall, a large bed with ornate, but tattered, sheets was physically molded with a raised dais, and the bedposts spiraled into wooden columns connecting ceiling and floor, carved with ornate sea-life of all times and places. One side of the room was occupied with a variety of racks and a large freestanding closet, with clothes of all sorts strewn on the racks. The other side seemed to have an aquarium exhibit growing out of it, with coral, soaking rocks, and anemones growing into the floor and parts of the wall.
Shella guided Marilyn to the clothing, and took the cover out of her hands. Marilyn's face flashed into red-hot embarrassment, and her arms quickly covered her breasts and groin. "Oh come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before," said Shella. "I'll be returning the bedsheet to its room. Take a look at what could fit you and what you like." Shella turned and departed, hips swaying with a confident gesture.
Marilyn sat down on a nearby stool, looking through the rainbow cascade of clothing before her. There were Arabian belly-dancing clothes that looked as thin as tissue paper, sweeping dresses that seemed to be ripped on the front, and even exotic body coverings akin to a wetsuit made out of spraypaint. Eventually, Marilyn found some white clothes that seemed vaguely like a woman's toga, and a corresponding pin emblazoned with a trident and waves.
She jumped as the door creaked open and shut again, letting Shella in. "Got anything in mind?" Shella asked.
"Well, there is this toga thingy..." hesitated Marilyn.
Shella leaned on Marilyn, her hand uncomfortably close to Marilyn's breasts. "Hmmm," mumbled Shella, "The dresses are too ripped, the belly-dancer only works with someone who isn't as pale as you are, and the skin-tights are for some seriously kinky stuff. You aren't comfortable with rope bondage, are you?"
Marilyn looked at Shella in the same way one might look at the products that came out of Japan. "What the hell is going on here?!" she asked.
"Get some clothes on, then I'll explain. I'm getting a itch just from looking at you right now, and clothes would help that," said Shella.
Marilyn, face flushed with red, hurriedly put on the toga and attempted to fasten it with the pin. Shella sighed at her clumsy attempts, reached over, and deftly fitted the toga and pin together, making it rest somewhat tightly on Marilyn. It seemed to cling to her around her slightly curved stomach and decidedly average breasts.
"There, much better," Shella commented, then she walked to and sat down on the bed. "You'll want to be sitting down for this one, honey." Marilyn, near obediently, sat down on the stool.
Shella sighed, and began to talk. "You have been taken to an alternate dimension, some kind of universe that lashes out to other universes and picks up a very specific brand of faceless. It's a one-in-a-trillion chance to get sucked here, and as far as I can tell, you are trapped once you get here. There is no escape. This world is made out of pieces; the ocean is just a small part of it. I've seen metal plates in the sky, anchored my ship at desert islands, and docked at ruined castles. I have seen manors and deserts in the distance, and have met with a good many inhabitants. This place is the ultimate fantasy. There is no fear of child in this realm, nor is there of age, disease, or death, from what I know, so people fuck whomever. It's like Aphrodite's playground on new positions, combined with whatever sins can be imagined. I have spent most of my entire existence here, though I've lost count on the years. It could be decades or centuries to me."
"You were lost at sea, creating a larger opportunity for this Pleasure World to suck you in," continued Shella. "You are now in a realm in which any sexual fantasy can be satiated, any lust fulfilled, and any act enacted. If you're wondering why this is so monotonous, it's because you're my 23rd ever pick-up from the sea."
"Wait, so you've done it with..." murmured Marilyn. Her mind was filling with new and interesting things to do with men she could possibly meet.
"Just about everything. Mostly male sailors, though there is the few women sailors. Even did it with a vampire once. Turns out they suck in-bed. Never fuck one. I've even done it with a shark-man. And before you ask, I was human, but now I'm cursed to this ship and can breathe like a fish." Proving her point, Shella leaned to one side, allowing a good view of her neck and ribs below her breast. Each section had three gill slits, almost imperceptible in the clear air.
There was a pause as Marilyn soaked in the information. "I'm sorry, but did you say there was no escape?" she asked after reflecting on Shella's words.
"Eyup. No escape," Shella replied simply.
No Escape. Those words took up her mind. It was true she had no immediate relations, though she was thinking of getting a cat. She didn't keep close contact with her parents, she had no siblings, and few friends. But there was still real life! Tasks to get complete, things to do, people to meet. To be fair, she'd probably never go out a try to meet people, but still.
