Great White-fu

The Meeting

Finally, some peace and quiet for the first time in a long time. About a month ago, you entered and won a vacation sweepstakes to Hawaii, not expecting to at all. Honestly, you thought they were all just scams to track people’s mail addresses or whatever, but now you could say that that preconception was blown out of the water. Today, you’re out on a boat a quarter-mile from the dock of your private villa house right on the beach. After spending yesterday getting to know the local area, it’s nice to just sit back on your wooden folding chair, cold beer in hand, and take it easy.

The sea is calm and a deep blue, the salty smell of the air carried by the wind fills your nose, and the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of the occasional seagull flock making its calls that sound of laughter. It really is quite tranquil, maybe too much so for your liking. So, to keep yourself occupied, you brought a medium bag of fish food on board for fun. Just drop a handful in the water and watch the fish mosh pit ensue, like an emperor overlooking Rome’s finest gladiators in the Colosseum, fighting to the death for your amusement. Fast-forward several handfuls later, and you’ve got about a whole school of different kinds of fish orbiting your boat underwater; and that’s when you realize that that might be enough fish-feeding for today.

Resealing the bag, you sit back in your chair to down the last of your beer, failing to look and behold an unmistakable shark’s fin, piercing above the water like scissors cutting wrapping paper, making a beeline straight to your boat, attracted by the gathering of its prey. By the time you put the bottle down, the fin had descended out of site. Looking down in the water, you notice that the fish have all scattered. You’re then abruptly cut off short from saying “What the?” as the whole boat was suddenly rocked by something slamming into it from the opposite side, and sending you overboard.

Once you stop tumbling underwater, your brain finally clicks to soak in the situation: you’re sinking underwater and you’re not supposed to. What you should be doing right now is getting back on the boat. As you try to kick your left leg to swim upward, however, you feel something caught on your ankle. Although your vision is blurred, you see your leg has gotten caught in between the boards of your chair. Panicking, you try to free yourself, but it doesn’t budge. “Shit. Shit! No!” You gurgle as you continue struggling. Quickly running out of air, you forget about the chair anchoring you down because you need to get back to the boat. Now. Sadly, even with the adrenaline rush, you lack the air, energy, and distance to swim back upwards and now it’s too late. You give up, your arms and right leg flowing upwards as your vision begins to fade. You notice some dark figure rapidly approaching you before you finally go unconscious to start your new permanent vacation: in Davy Jones’ Locker.



Suddenly, you are awoken by the light of the sun hitting your eyes. With a loud gasp, you snap back to your senses and spring back up (your leg still stuck in that piece of shit chair). Crawling towards the end of the boat without hesitation or thinking, you puke out all the seawater you swallowed on your descent. After that disgusting 15 seconds, your eyes adjust to the light. You’re still on the boat. You’re not in Heaven, but you don’t know that just yet. Resting your back against your cooler, you retrace what happened. You were relaxing on the boat, feeding the fish and quaffing a beer until you went overboard; then your leg got caught on the chair, you tried to free yourself, but by the time you realized you couldn’t, it was too late; finally, you almost drowned before waking up on the boat. But how?

“Uh, Hey! I’m sorry I bumped into you! Are you alright?” Before you give yourself a headache trying to make sense of your predicament, you hear a voice call out. But, as far as you were concerned you went alone on this boat ride. You figured it was all in your head until you heard it again. “Hey! You alright?” The voice is clearly female, but with a strong, ruffian flair that, at the same time, is upheld by a hint of tenderness. You must’ve been saved by a lifeguard whose boat crashed into you, though you don’t see any wreckage.

“What?” you ask, not even sure where to look. “Yeah, I’m fine” you say to the thin air at your unseen savior. “Alright, I’m sorry, but where are you?” you finally ask.

“Down here!” she calls out from the water. You go to your boat’s starboard side and look down. However, instead of finding someone, you’re greeted with a “BOO!” The head of a shark comes out of the water, and some of the biggest hands you’ve ever seen -- palms the size of dinner plates -- grab onto the edge of the boat as the shark smiles deviously through razor sharp teeth. You scream in reaction, naturally, spooked by the sight of a shark with arms and a million-dollar smile, but calm down once you realize she’s just an anthro shark girl. Anthros have existed for as long as you can remember and you’ve seen hundreds of wolf men, cat girls, wolf girls, cat men, and so on. But the existence let alone thought of anthro shark girls? Completely unheard of by you and most people, and this one seems to enjoy exploiting that weakness.


“Did I getcha?” she asks, eager to hear an answer. You’d want to tell her off for almost scaring you half to death, but you really can’t deny how good she got you.

“Yeah, you got me alright,” you say, laughing in relief. “And I’m not really hurt, just a bit sea sick. Sorry for asking, but could you help me get this thing off me?” you point to that stupid chair, “that would be a real help.”

“Oh, sure! I never liked those types of chairs anyway; of course, I can’t even sit in them!” As she tries to climb aboard, both of you watch the boat tip over to her side. She immediately lets up before she capsizes it. “Umm, could you… hold on to the other side real quick?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out why, so you do as she says and hold onto the railing for dear life. The only parts of her you’ve seen so far are her arms, shoulders, and head, but from those alone you can tell that she has to be huge. She pushes down on the boat just enough for her to plant her feet aboard; as she does, it levels itself out, rocking side to side. “Alright, where is the-” Suddenly, you’ve disappeared and she stops talking on realization. Looking over the edge of the port side, she notices bubbles and figures out what happened: the boat leveling itself flinged you back overboard down into the water. “Oh, right: physics.” She sighs as she dives back in to pluck you back out. 10 seconds later, she climbs back on board with you kept secure in her arms this time. “Nothing personal, but I don’t think the ocean’s for you, buddy. Now let’s get you out of that thing” she remarks as she lets you down.

“You think so?” you fire back. “Oh, and I’m Anon by the way.”

“You know what? No, I actually know so.” She says as she grasps the chair with her mega mitts. “Hold still for one second.” And with a grunt, she pries off the boards your leg was stuck in. God did it feel so good to stand up again. “There we are!” the shark says standing up, allowing you to get a full frontal look at that body of hers.

You’re in awe over how amazingly sculpted she is. Her head has that “sharky” profile with gills on the side of her face, a large, blunt snout, fins along the back of her head and torso and a finned shark tail. Her coloration is a grayish cyan, with a white underside that reaches from her nostrils down to her groin and stops at her tail. Your imagery from her voice, though expecting it to belong to a human, was actually right on the money; she has a powerful, imposing physique all around with toned, tree-trunk wide legs, a six-pack of abs, and arms that made you feel weak just looking at the size of those biceps. Her height? You assume she’s over 2 whole feet taller than you. Her breast size would be I-cups relative to her size, they’d probably be M-cups if on a human. Her waist is wide enough to support those thighs of hers and is complimented by the finest ass around.

“So, your name’s Anon, is it? Well you’re not ready for mine.”

“Knock myself out.” You say, condescendingly.

“Welp, you asked for it. First name: Greta (pronounced "GREAT-ah"), spelled G, R, E, T, A; last name: White.” It takes a moment beforehand, but you start wheeze-laughing when you piece it together. You can’t believe it. Greta is an anagram of “great,” it’s pronounced like “great,” and her last name is white. She is an anthro shark, and her name is literally “Great White.” “Okay, dude, calm down, it’s not that funny.”

“Oh, really? Then call me ‘Hugh.’”

“‘Hugh?’” she asked.

“Yeah!” and holding back even more laughter, you tell her “‘Hugh Mann!’” Walking right into that one, she did an immediate facepalm that shifted to covering her mouth to hide her smile. But then, she came around.

“Alright, I guess I did say it was funny,” she said with a snicker before laughing with you.


Once that was over with, you decided to step up and make some kind of move on her. “So,” you start, putting your hands together, “my cooler’s still on board, you want a drink or something while you’re here? My treat.” Greta thinks for a bit, before denying your offer.

“Nah, I’m good, man. In fact, I just realized I should get going.”

“Oh come on, what kind of shark crashes into my boat, saves my life twice, tells me her name, but suddenly doesn’t want to settle down after all that?”

“I mean, no, it’s not that! I’m actually… late… for something, yeah.” Somehow, you’re not buying that, “And besides, those fish were supposed to be my dinner before I had to stop you from drowning.” Well, you suppose she has a point there.

“Yeah, I guess everyone’s got places to be. Not me though, I’m going right to bed once I’m back on land.”

“Hm, you said it,” she agreed. Welp, so much for hitting things off. Greta went back into the water and you went back to the boat’s controls (which still work, Hallelujah).

Before you turned the motor back on, you wanted to ask Greta one more thing before she went back under the sea. “Uh, hey, Greta?”


“Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not busy doing… whatever sharks do, you wanna come to my house over there and hang out?”

“Oh, alright, I guess I still owe you something for nearly killing you. How’s 4:30 sound?”

“It’s a date!” Woah! Too early to use that word there, buckaroo. “Er- deal! I-It’s a deal!” You correct yourself, flustered.

Greta exhales in amusement, “Alright, see you there…, ‘Hugh.’” and she submerges back into the deep blue.

Well, you don’t know how you did it, but you managed to score a date with a girl for the first time in your miserable life. Only thing that makes this different is that she’s anthro; more than that, she’s a shark. You like almost everything about her: her voice, personality, her body, and the obvious “assets.” You’ve only got 5 days left on vacation, so you better make those moments count.


Pub: 17 Jul 2021 02:34 UTC
Views: 2201