Despite not fully understanding what was happening to her, Marina knew the last thing she should do was sit there and wait helplessly while her diving suit gobbled her up. She had to get back to shore and find help. She turned over on her belly and crawled to the steering wheel. The floor of the boat was still wet from her recent arrival back on board, which made this considerably easier than it could have been. Her wetsuit squeaked as she slid forward using her forearms. Her legs instinctively kicked up and down, swaying the fin that was now attached to them. If she had looked behind her, she would have noticed the tips of the fin flapping much more loosely than they were meant to do, but Marina was focused on getting herself up onto the chair so she could pilot the boat.
Fortunately, the designers of this boat had planned for rocky seas. There were bars installed on the side of the chair and on the steering console, but both were just out of reach. She pushed herself up onto her knees, but they quickly buckled and her jaw smashed on the seat before she crumpled back to the floor.
Marina rubbed her chin with a wince, extremely thankful the chair was so well padded. She felt over her knees to figure out what was wrong with them. They didn't hurt...not exactly. She wasn't sure how they felt, once she tried concentrating. Her hands groped her legs but couldn't find the knee caps. She couldn't even find the dip that was supposed to be between her legs. Once the stars dancing in her vision from the fall finally cleared, she realized that the legs of her wetsuit had merged further, encasing her legs in a single sleeve from her waist to her calves, and as she watched, the remaining pit between her ankles just before the monofin was flattening to conform to the new look. She definitely looked like she was wearing a mermaid costume now, albeit one made from the material of a wetsuit and still bearing its color and markings. Even the monofin, which didn't originally match the suit's material or color, had shifted to blend seamlessly into it. She could hardly call it a monofin now. It was a full-fledged tail!
She flopped her legs and watched as her entire lower half swiveled and flapped in ways she knew they weren't meant to. Her legs were gone, as impossible as that was to believe. The suit wasn't just merging with her skin. It was changing everything.
Panicking now, Marina scrambled up the chair. She flailed her arm toward the nearest handle and got a grip after just a few passes. She grunted as she hoisted herself up, her flexible tail unable to help lift very much of the load, acting almost totally as dead weight. She still made it, though, and once she repositioned herself to get properly seated, she found it easy to stay upright by clutching the steering wheel.
"Glad this thing doesn't have pedals," she said to herself, trying to find a source of cheer as she engaged the throttle. The boat lurched forward, and Marina's slippery behind slid dangerously close to the side of the chair. She hopped a few times to get back to the center, holding onto the wheel for dear life. She was relieved to find that the suit was almost dry enough for friction to anchor her. She put more power into the throttle and the boat hopped toward the shoreline, with the medallion dancing securely around her neck.