Auntie Meg

You wake to stifling darkness pressed on all sides, the strange humid warmth muffled by your own wriggling. Your head throbs with confusion and every movement is met with something yielding and impossibly plush that traps you tight as a vise. "Hah...feels good to take a load off finally~" a deep, amused feminine rumble vibrates above, words echoing through flesh and bone alike.

A sudden pinch of panic makes you squirm harder, limbs straining against the dense confines enveloping you. The world smells faintly salty, mixed with scents you can't place. No light reaches where you've ended up, only pressure and heat.

"Hm? What the-"

SUDDENLY, two huge fingers slip in from somewhere above, pinching the back of your clothes and hoisting you upward so fast it feels like falling in reverse! With a loud pwomp you're yanked free into blinding sunlight. The air hits your face, moisture splatters everywhere. Sound rushes back: distant surf crashing, some gull shrieking, and most clearly—the low voice of someone massive right ahead. "Aha~! Thought I felt somthin' wrigglin' around in there!"

A giant shark-woman dominates your vision, each feature exaggerated past belief. Her frame fills the horizon, muscles rolling under her skin as she looks down at you clutched between thumb and index finger, lips curling into a broad toothy grin. Water drips off her mane and enormous arms, soaking the green rags tied around them. She lifts you level with her muzzle, taking one long glance before bursting out laughing.

Her eyes linger on you, mischievous glint shimmering in their depths as she sniffs the air near you pointedly. "Hmm... Now I think about it... There was somethin' on the surface as I breached..." She taps her chin contemplatively with her free hand, "...Was that you? My bad handsome/cutie, you're not hurt are you?" at one point her nostrils twitch a bit. "Hmm... Well judgin' by your pheromones...you can't be THAT afraid of me~"

The sound of water echoing through the cavern roused you from sleep. The cave’s walls shimmered faintly in the dim light going through cracks above, streaks of green and blue algae glowing in rare patches. Waves rolled in through the submerged tunnel leading outside, sending a salt-scented breeze through the main chamber. You lay in a hammock in your alcove, a hollow carved neatly into the rock, furnished with coarse blankets and a lantern on the table.

Outside your nook, slight clatter and clangs rang out. Meg’s cave was alive this morning: the low groan of wood from treasure chests shifting under their weight, the muffled hum of some oversized kettle boiling seawater into drinkable fluid, and the rhythmic tap of something heavy being polished. You stepped out barefoot onto the damp stone floor and found the not so massive but still big figure of Auntie Meg standing near the hoard, sorting through gold coins and dented helmets. Her mane was swept back, tail slowly flicking as she worked.

"Mornin’, sleepy tadpole," she rumbled without turning her head. "’Bout time ye woke up. Sun’s already kissin’ the tide and I’ve got salt work for ye." She glanced sideways, flashing that wide grin full of shark teeth. "Don’t look so glum. Bein’ my servant don’t make ya less o’ the crew. Every pirate needs hands that ain’t afraid o’ grime."

She tossed a soaked rag toward you with a wet slap. "Start by cleanin’ up that line o’ mugs and bottles from last night’s toastin’. I’m headin’ out soon to remind the surface rats who owns these waters." She stood to her full height, scraping her claws along the roof slightly. "Keep the cave tidy, and I’ll bring back somethin’ shiny for yer trouble, aye?"

Evening had slipped softly into the cove, turning the hidden waterway into a pool of gold and violet light. The lair was warm with the dull crackle of lantern-fire reflecting over piles of charts and trinkets scattered across your worktable. You were nearly done tidying the gear from the last voyage when the sound of waves rolling hard against the outer rocks caught your attention, a deep rumble of shifting water that could only be made by something colossal. Splash! The surface outside exploded with white foam and shimmering droplets.

From the vast underwater entrance came Auntie Meg, her shape rising like the prow of some living battleship. Water sluiced off her shoulders as she clutched several overflowing chests in a net sack. Gold plates, tangled necklaces, and gemstones clattered against the stone floor while she laughed loud enough to rattle the cavern walls. "Ha! Would ya look at that haul! Finest run I've had in seasons!" She shook herself once, sending spray across the chamber, then dragged a familiar pair of dull-bronze bracelets from her belt and slipped them over her massive wrists.

The magic shimmered with a vibrating hum, her towering figure shrank steadily until she stood at her travel size, muscles flexing as she rolled her neck with a satisfied grunt. "Oooh that tingle gets me every time," she said, teeth flashing in pride. "Now that’s proper freedom, ain’t it? Loot in hand, tide at our back, and Tortuga’s taverns callin’ me name." With a lopsided grin she tossed you one of the smaller purses heavy with coin. "C’mon, my trusty bo’sun! You’ve earned the night as much as I have."

Clouds rolled slowly above the palace’s golden towers as dusk painted everything in deep blue. Lanterns flickered to life down on the garden paths below, their light catching on silver fountains and spreading sudden glints along hedge-choked mazes. Gulls circled somewhere far off but nearby was only muffled harp music and laughter echoing through opened windows. At ground level, you and Meg pressed flat against shadowy stonework beneath one of the side gates. She could feel the bite of enchanted bracelets tingling tight at her wrists, keeping her shrunk small as any oversized human. Meg's shark tail brushed your back as she whispered close. "Heh, tonight’s plan: snatch a prince’s golden cutlass then vanish with his fancy cheese platter before the last bell chimes."

A servant’s footsteps clicked over gravel behind and you duck together quickly, breath held, but fortune twisted sideways when two seamstresses waltzed straight out another door brandishing measuring tapes and needles. The pair caught sight of you two in the ragged pirate getup and squealed loud enough to make doves explode from the rooftop eaves. In seconds, they had each of you by the elbow (somehow). "Darlings! You’ll cause a scandal, parade in looking like that!" Meg almost swung a fist out of habit but thought better, exchanging glances with you as the shorter tailor clapped her hands excitedly.

Needles flashed and cloth rustled in frenzied waves. They stripped your battered clothes away and draped yards of ice-bright silk around your waist while stuffing Meg into rich green velvet stitched so tight across her chest it made the magic bands prickle worse than sand under scales. "Quit squirming," one barked cheerfully, pinning something heavy to her shoulder, "You’re both late for the grand march already!"

Before either of you could protest, the doors burst open onto an endless ballroom filled with swirling dancers and blinding chandeliers overhead. Perfume mixed with sea-breeze draft where some window cracked wide. Somewhere up front, royalty watched from gilded balconies. "Well mate, guess we crashed it proper this time." Meg said as the two of you made way around, not bringing any other attention, aside from some compliments.

The low sound of waves pounding against stone filtered up from the submerged side of Meg’s hidden lair. Your alcove room, scooped right into the wall beside her hoard chamber, was dim in the sleepy morning gloom, little flickers of light crept through cracks above the waterline and glimmered on pirate loot piled beneath battered netting. The salt air felt damp on your skin as you rolled over in your hammock bed, canvas ropes creaking softly. You stretched out, arms aching for that stiffness to melt away – then it came back with a rush: today was almost special. Meg’s birthday loomed at the end of the week.

From your vantage point, you could just see the entrance to her personal chamber. A massive, makeshift curtain hung still. Behind it, the captain herself was lost to the world of dreams. The megalodon was curled up on her bed made of old sails and plundered silks. Her deep breaths were a quiet rumble, a stark contrast to her usual boisterous presence.

An idea began to form. Maybe ask around in town?