Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Female Plumbing Problem by Vulgar Argot (MF, magic, softcore) Author's note: Don't let the title fool you. There is nothing gross or gynecological about this story. It's a pun. Chris was not having a good day. He had gone into work tired, looking forward to the weekend. Before he had finished even his first cup of coffee, a trouble ticket had come across his desk. The end user had labelled it "minor," but end users never knew how big a problem was. This one turned out to be a doozy. It had been a scaling problem, a flaw in the basic architecture that was introduced long before Chris ever saw the product, but his problem now. The solution he'd implemented was no solution at all, would break in a few uses, but had still taken almost twelve hours to fix. He'd had to call Amanda, the pretty girl in human resources, and tell her he couldn't meet her after work for a third time. She'd been so understanding the first two times, but this time she had declined to commit to a firm date to try again. Chris couldn't blame her. By the time he finally got home, all he wanted was to have a beer, a little something to eat and maybe watch a little TV. At least he had the weekend to look forward to and could catch up on his sleep. The last straw had been turning on his sink and, instead of the nice clear stream of water he expected, getting a tiny trickle of brownish-looking water. He cursed to himself, but welcomed the distraction. This, at least, was a problem he knew how to fix and could apply a genuine solution to. Pulling his toolbox out of the shed, he headed down into the cellar. The moon was full and huge in the sky that night. Somewhere from off at a great distance, he heard the sounds of a party. He wished he could be there. He never seemed to talk to anyone about anything but work anymore. He'd bought this house almost a year ago under the premise that it would make him a more appealing catch to women, but so far, he hadn't even had a nibble. In the basement, he turned off the main valve, then began to tap his wrench on each segment of the intake pipe, listening for which was the first to sound hollow. The one before it would have the clog. The one that had the clog gave a very odd tone, not a clank, but a high, clear tone like a tiny silver bell. He wondered if he would have to replace the segment. Ah, well, he thought, patch today. Bug fix tomorrow. The nut took some force to start. Chris smacked his knuckles once or twice, cursing loudly. Finally, it began to turn. Once it started turning under the wrench, it began to turn of its own volition as if under great pressure. Chris quickly rechecked the main valve and the segments before and after the one he was working on, but everything seemed normal. Just as he approached the segment, the nut gave way, spewing water on the basement floor. Chris had only a moment to worry about whether he had just flooded the basement when a bigger problem occurred to him. The water was not behaving as water should. Instead, it coalesced into the form of a woman, beautiful and waifish, with a lilly worn in her long brown hair. To Chris (whose full name was Cristopolos,) she looked Greek. She was also stark naked. Chris, too stunned to move, looked back and forth. The first words out of his mouth were, "If this is some sort of elaborate joke, someone is going to need a proctologist to remove this wrench from their..." "Excuse me," the woman said in a voice reminiscent of a waterfall Chris had found once, far back in the woods where no one ever seemed to go, "Are you a god?" Chris knew he should answer yes. He remembered what happened in Ghostbusters when the answer had been no. But, he suspected there would be follow-up questions that only a god could answer, so he said truthfully, "" The woman fell to her knees, taking his hand in hers, "Forgive me, then," she begged, "for you have rescued me and I, unknowing, have struck you blind." Chris looked down at her. In spite of the absurdity of the situation, he couldn't keep prurient thoughts from rising to the surface. Here was a beautiful, naked woman kneeling in front of him, begging his forgiveness. His mind reeled at the possibilities. Still, he had to say, "What are you talking about? I'm not blind." She looked up at him, puzzled, "You must be blind. Any mortal man who gazes upon the naked beauty of a naiad is instantly struck blind." Chris helped her to her feet. Whoever she was, she was very pretty, maybe even movie star pretty, but he'd seen prettier. He said as kindly as he could, "I have cable. Maybe I've built up a tolerance." The naiad looked a bit put off, but before she could speak, Chris found enough of his wits to ask, "Wait a second. Did you or did you not just come out of my intake pipe?" The naiad nodded. "How did you get in there?" Chris asked. "I do not know," she said, "I was being chased by Apollo for his sport, but I fled him. My sisters, the oceanides, took pity on me and carried me away from him. How long I stayed with them, I do not know. Then, I came to another river with no spirit of its own. I followed its path upstream. When I paused to sun myself, a god I did not know, who rode a horse that made a great noise and belched smoke, pursued me. I fled him, following the river until it got smaller and smaller. Soon, it passed underground and it was cut off from the sky. Eventually, it got too small for me to pass and I was stuck." Chris looked at her, "You're trying to tell me you're some kind of water spirit, then?" She blinked at him, "I am Oneone, daughter of the river Cebren. I am a naiad." "And this Apollo that was chasing you, he was Apollo, the sun god of Greek mythology?" asked Chris. Oneone nodded. She seemed about to speak, but instead jumped backwards, pointing a trembling finger at one corner of the basement, "You have one of the horses, too. Surely, you must be a god, hoping to trick me into thinking you a mortal man." "Listen, On-and-on," Chris said, "You're a long way from home. Apollo hasn't been much of a concern for at least two thousand years. I am not a god. I'm a software developer. It's an obvious mistake. And that is not a horse. It's a motorcycle. Now, why don't we get you upstairs and find something you can wear?" "What?" Oneone asked, "Aren't you driven mad by my beauty? Won't you pursue me for your sport?" "Actually," said Chris, "I'm pretty tired. Maybe if I got some sleep, I could pursue you tomorrow." Oneone stared at him, imperious at first. Then, her resolve seemed to crumble. She started crying, great sobs wracking her body. The tears fell from her eyes, slid down her face, fell to the ground, then slid across the floor to rejoin her form. "There there," said Chris, trying to comfort her without touching her, "Come on. Stop crying. Look, you're getting dirt mixed in with your corporeal form. Come on. It's not that bad." "Not that bad?" Oneone cried, "What do you know about it? I've been in this godsforsaken land for three summers now. Not one man has pursued me for his sport. I have let them approach close, enticed them with my charms, but as soon as I bolt, they let me go. Or they give half-hearted chase, or they shout for me to come back, offer me clothing or psychiatric help, whatever that is. What has happened to me that I am not worth pursuing anymore? Is it erosion?" "No, no," said Chris. Even in such absurd circumstances, the sight of a naked, crying woman did something to Chris that make him feel atavistic, wanting to own and protect her, to keep her away from anything that would make her cry again. He laid his hands on Oneone's shoulders, drawing her into a hug, "You're quite beautiful. Any man in his right mind would want to pursue you. I would pursue you myself, but I had a really long day at work." "Liar," she shouted, pushing against his chest, "I know what it is. It's the competition. I don't know when mortal women became so beautiful, but it's damned near impossible for an allegorical manifestation to compete these days. All I used to have to compete with were ancient Greek girls, little hairy things who never shaved anything, didn't brush their teeth, and rarely bathed. I give up." She sat down on the steps leading down from upstairs with a miserable sounding splash, "Maybe I should just return to the sea and dissolve into it like so many of the other naiades have done. "Hey," said Chris, "Don't talk like that. You're still very beautiful. In fact," he said, "I think I'm starting to feel the urge to pursue you." Oneone looked up through her tears, "You're just saying that." Chris approached her, trying to look menacing, "I am not. If you don't get up and run, I may just have my sport with you right there." Oneone's eyes glimmered with what Chris thought looked like gratitude. Then, she bolted. Running like flowing water, she was up the stairs and gone in the blink of an eye. Chris, unprepared, followed her. When he came into the kitchen, she stood in the far doorway. As soon as he made a move towards her, she bolted again. Soon, he was chasing her full speed around the house. Oneone was a much faster runner than Chris, but seemed content to linger whenever he fell too far behind. Finally, he managed to corner her in the back parlor. He thought he had her then, but she grabbed the doorknob and began to flee again. Oneone's unfamiliarity with modern doorknobs proved her undoing. The door was locked. In the time it took her to undo the lock, Chris had her by the shoulders. Oneone got the door open, but Chris managed to keep a grip around her waist. With the strength of flowing water behind her, Oneone managed to stumble across the back porch and get a few steps into the yard. Chris held on like a shipwrecked sailor, wrapping his arms around her waist. Eventually, the weigh caused her to stumble, falling to one knee. Chris used his leverage to flip Oneone down onto her back. Panting heavily, Chris looked down at this fetching creature he'd finally caught. In the moonlight, against the green grass and black sky, he saw her true, silvery-rimmed beauty. It was the pearlescent beauty of a calm stream in the middle of night. It was the sort of serene beauty that only occurred in unspoiled places of nature. Chris was awed with her beauty, but not so awed that his body did not respond to it in a way as old as mankind itself. Giving thanks to providence that he'd bought a house with trees planted all around the border so that his neighbors couldn't see down into his yard, Chris pinned Oneone's wrists to the ground while straddling her waist. She let out a little mewl of protest before he bent down to kiss her. For all the strength she'd shown before, he was able to keep her wrists pinned with a single hand while the other stroked her curves, her small, firm breasts, her hips. Meanwhile, he kept kissing her. For her part, Oneone was surprised by the intensity of the kiss and her response to it. Men had apparently learned a bit about kissing in the time since she'd last been pursued. As Chris's finger slid inside of her, she gasped and moaned at the pleasure of it. Men had apaparently learned a bit about everything. Chris was a surprisingly gentle lover, even in his urgency. Oneone soon felt her body beginning to be shaken by waves of pleasure that eddied out from where Chris's fingers entered her in orgasmic ripples. She'd felt this way before, but only as a river, never as a woman. "You're so wet," Chris whispered to her. "Of course," said Oneone, giggling, "I'm always wet." "Your laughter is so beautiful," whispered Chris, "I could listen to it forever." Oneone bit playfully on Chris's earlobe. She susserated in his ear, "You've pursued and caught a naiad. You'd better have your sport with me." "Well," said Chris, "it wouldn't do to break with tradition." He entered her then, hard and powerful. Oneone arched to meet him. It didn't take long for Oneone to figure out that this, too, had improved with time. For one thing, it just kept happenening. When Oneone thought Chris must be near completion, she realized that he was barely even getting started. In all her time, it had never been like this. Zeus had been a selfish lover, even among the gods. Heracles's breath always reeked of garlic. And Apollo was all tongue. But Chris was clean and shaved. He knew just how to kiss, how to touch, and how to make love. Soon, Oneone's pleasure was all-consuming. Several times, she thought she would just melt into a puddle of desire and had to fight the transformation that would lead to her doing just that. By the time Chris came inside of her, Oneone's whole body hummed with a power like that granted by the Earth itself. Scooping her up, Chris began to carry Oneone inside. She struggled against him, not really wanting to be out of his strong arms, needing to speak, "Chris," she said, "I can not sleep too far from my element. I need to return to the river." Chris laughed, "It's all right, Oneone. As luck would have it, I have a waterbed." -=- When Chris woke up the next morning, he was inclined to think it had all been an incredibly good dream. But Oneone lay next to him, curled up like a cat, her body somehow creating a small ring of turbulence around herself in the bed. Chris kissed the back of her head, then her spine until she woke groggily. "Good morning," Chris said, "I'm going to get a shower, then make us some breakfast. After that, we can go and get you some clothes." Before Oneone could answer, he was out of the bed, running the shower. Oneone lay in bed, debating with herself. There didn't seem to be much work left in the naiad business these days, at least not on this side of the ocean. Naiades had done it before, taken mortal form. The punishment had always been severe, but who was left to punish her. Oneone lay and tried to imagine waking up next to this man every morning, letting him pursue and catch and make love to her every night. It was an appealing image, but the song of the nearby river from which she had entered the pipes that led to Chris's house called to her too strongly. She knew she could never stay. Rising, Oneone made her way into the bathroom. She stepped into the shower behind Chris, kissing his broad shoulders and wide back. He shuddered with pleasure at this, turning around to face her, pulling her to him, kissing her fiercely. Here, with water running down both of their bodies, she was more alive than she had been last night by an order of magnitude. The kisses made her moan with pleasure. His hands already explored her surface, making Oneone want to forget her resolve. "Chris," she moaned, "Oh, Chris. I wish I could stay with you forever." Chris looked sad, "But you can't." Oneone shook her head sadly, "I have to return to the river." Chris drew her more tightly to him, "Now?" he asked. Oneone felt his manhood swell against her thigh, "Well," she admitted, "soon, anyway." Chris took her, holding himself inside of her, barely moving. He turned their bodies so that the shower pounded down on Oneone, "Will I ever see you again?" he asked. Caught between the water pounding down on her face and breasts and the man thrusting upward into her, it was a long time before Oneone could speak again, "There is a place you know. I feel your affinity for it. It is a waterfall, back in the woods, where no one goes. Go there when you want to see me again. I will come to you." Chris drove into her, driving all of his lust into Oneone's loins. Oneone rode him like a bull. She cried out again and again in pleasure. "Oneone," Chris moaned, "I wish we could be together forever, too. Is there no way." "When you are old," Oneone panted between waves of pleasure, "and it has been years since you sought my company, say goodbye to your family and come with me one last time." She cried out as the most intense orgasm yet hit her, threatening to shatter her. "When you do that," she moaned, "I will come to you and draw you under the surface of the pond. Then, we can be together forever." It may not have been the answer that Chris was looking for, but it gave him some solace. He began thrusting harder and harder into Oneone, who moaned appreciatively as she felt him building to a climax. She stopped fighting the pleasure. Soon her form began to waver with each wave of pleasure that rippled across her. Soon, she seemed to be only the shape of a woman, carved out of falling water. Chris closed his eyes. He could still feel her gripping him. With one last thrust, he drove into Oneone, staggering when the resistance vanished. With a last cry, she let the pleasure overwhelm her, her form collapsing completely. Chris came into nothing more than a heavy stream of water in the air, but as he watched his seed and the water flow away, he clearly heard Oneone laugh.