Cold Fish

This Bookslut post raises the horrifying possibility that we will all have to pretend to lust for mermaids for the next two years or so, because werewolves and vampires are over and new Supernatural Creatures We Want to Fuck will appear on the literary scene.

I don’t believe it’s true. First of all, unlike werewolves and vampires, mermaids live in the depths of the sea, which is not a viable environment for human beings full stop, let alone human beings who want to take part in an oxygen-heavy activity like fucking. (The amazing Emily Carroll has done a comic, “The Prince and the Sea,” on the forever boundaries between man and mermaid.)

However, I am not just speculating about mermaids being a spectacularly poor choice of Supernatural Creatures We Want to Fuck–for I am the proud owner of the world’s possibly only mermaid/angel romance and I can tell you firsthand that mermaids are horrible, horrible romantic heroines.

Plot rundown: The angel falls into the sea and is rescued by the mermaid, who is a descendant of the famous Little Mermaid of Hans Christian Andersen/Disney fame. The mermaid’s heritage gives her the ability to shapeshift into a human form. This is convenient as about a quarter of the way into the story our hero and heroine have to run off to dry land, which is also convenient because another thing about mermaid stories is that the sea is a really boring place. No, that’s not true; the sea is mysterious and full of wonder. However, it isn’t particularly full of narrative obstacles that would keep people from doubting the power of mystic fucking long enough to make it to the end of a 374-page book. By the way, there’s some sort of magic that the angel has to channel, and he can only perform this magic through penetrative sex. Which is a very good setup for a romance novel but unfortunately is another point against mermaids, because nothing is less sexy than a cloaca. Yes, there are cloacas–cloacae?–in this book.

She rested his hand on the indentation just below the skirt of her feathery anal fin. The blue and purple silk of it rippled over him, brushing his knuckles…the warm, wet opening he was currently investigating was more narrow than the one in her human form. To get the same effect, he suspected he would have to have her cross her legs at the ankles, holding her thighs tightly together while he plunged into the excruciatingly snug opening.

Fortunately she doesn’t have a loose cloaca, because I suppose that would mean she was a thrashed-out mermaid slut. These things are important, you know!

In the end the angel heals the earth, or something, and the angel and the mermaid live happily ever after. I live vaguely ashamedly ever after because I just read a book that involved cloaca-themed erotica.

Also, mermaids don’t have pubic hair. No, really. From the text:

She’d never had any hair on her lower body like human women did, so the fleshy petals of her sex were there, unguarded. They felt somewhat swollen, and she shifted a bit. As a merwoman, her sex was completely concealed beneath overlapping scales, so she thought she probably felt more naked right now than even a human woman would normally feel.

Well, that’s it. They’re dull and they never have to wax. I refuse to empathize with these nasty creatures at all. Can’t we skip to fairies or ghosts?


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