1361: Inside the Shark – OneshotPosted: March 18, 2016
—FIC CONTAINS ADULT THEMES—
—READER DISCRETION ADVISED—
Greetings, dear Patrons!
Syl and I came to a little agreement last week – she’ll leave me alone for the rest of the month if I riff a fic that’s pure smut. To comply, I found this little oneshot that is nothing but erotica.
And it’s shark erotica; as in, humans and sharks engaging in sexual acts with each other. Multiple times.
:Syl leans in the doorway:
“This isn’t what I wanted and you damn well know it!”
Then you should learn to be more specific, shouldn’t you?
This little treasure comes from the Sharknado section of ff.net; I was actually a bit surprised that there are even Sharknado fics out there, much less erotic ones.
In case you haven’t heard of the series from The Asylum and the SyFy Channel, it is pretty much what it says on the tin; tornadoes filled with sharks run rampant and a handful of protagonists, the main protagonist being an aging surfer named Fin Shepard, devise ever more elaborate means of destroying the sharks. It’s pretty goofy, but fun and doesn’t take itself too seriously.
Let’s take a look at the summary, shall we?
Fin Shepard is a young surfer looking for some action on a beach when he encounters a shark. Instead of attacking him, however, the shark leads him to a secret, magical underwater cave where Fin will have the most unusual experience of his life. Riveting, romantic, and unbelievably erotic, Fin’s memoir is a shameless tell-all story of an encounter most would find sickening.
… Yeah. This is gonna be bad. It is highly probable that this is the work of a troll, or at least someone who isn’t very clear on what a “parody” is, because this fic has very little connection to the alleged source materials. It does have a lot of very graphic depictions of sexual intercourse between a man and a shark. Just in case you can’t tell, this fic is NSFW or anywhere else where you wouldn’t want someone to look over your shoulder and question why you are looking at pictures of shark genitalia.
You’ve been warned.
My name is Finley Shepard, but you can call me Fin. Everyone else does. You probably know me from being the man who jumped into a shark with a chainsaw while fighting the “sharknado” in Los Angeles last year. What you probably don’t know is that that encounter wasn’t my first time being inside a shark.
This is one of my favorite bits from the first movie, but not exactly what I would consider a “romantic” scene:
You might want to remember how big the shark is in relation to the human characters; that becomes important later.
It was spring break, 1988. I was a young horny teenager at Copacabana Beach looking for three things: a sick wave to ride, a cold beer to drink, and a hot babe to bang.
Let’s see; according to the Internet, Ian Ziering (who portrays Fin) was born in 1964. That would have made him twenty-four in 1988, not a teenager, but let’s give the author the benefit of the doubt and knock a few years off to make him just barely still a teenager at a youthful nineteen.
The waves were looking great that day, so I grabbed my board and headed out.
You’re in Rio specifically to surf, drink, and fornicate; it would be a wasted trip if you didn’t do at least one of those things.
I was having the time of my life when I noticed a girl watching me from the shore. She had perfect tan skin, sexy long blonde hair, and enormous tits barely concealed under a microscopic bikini.
He’s out in the water surfing, right? I’ve never surfed, but I have gone ocean kayaking, which is somewhat similar and takes place roughly the same distance from shore. If you’re far enough out that you are where the waves begin, you are going to be too far to make out individual features like that.
She smiled and waved at me, causing my cock to become as hard as the board I was riding on.
I was so distracted by this smoking hot chick that I didn’t notice the wave coming in behind me.
Serves you right, dumbass.
I was knocked off my board and fell into the salty ocean water. I began to swim back up to the surface when suddenly, I saw it.
How hard did this wave hit him that it takes him more than a few seconds to pop up to the surface?
It was a shark. A male great white, looking right at me with big black eyes.
And Fin’s the only one who notices a twenty-foot-long apex predator floating a few feet below the water’s surface.
I knew I should be afraid, but I wasn’t.
You really are an idiot then.
There was something in those eyes- I could tell it was hunger, but it seemed more lusting than anything.
No, I think it’s regular hunger. A shark really doesn’t have very expressive eyes.
Expecting it to start swimming towards me, I was surprised when it beckoned with its fin and swam off in the other direction. The message was clear: Follow me. I’ll never know why, but I did.
You, sir, are a dumbass. A shark swimming away from you is a good thing. Following a shark is a bad thing. And how the hell did it beckon him with a fin? They don’t move like that.
We swam down into the ocean, past schools of fish, colorful sea creatures, and coral reefs.
And oddly enough, Fin hasn’t had to surface for air once despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing SCUBA gear or even a snorkel since he was out surfing. And does anyone notice he’s missing? A missing surfer coupled with a shark spotting would result in a full-blown panic on most beaches. Search and Rescue should be on the scene any minute.
While I have found evidence of reef diving around Rio de Janeiro, typically beaches where people surf aren’t located near reefs since the underwater obstructions make the waves less intense.
At one point, we saw another shark, this one a great white.
Isn’t the one you’re following also a great white? They’re not really known to be social animals. Do you think all sharks are great whites? That seems racist, or at least species-ist.
Was it my imagination, or did it shoot a look of disgust at the shark I was following before changing its route to avoid us?
It could also be a territory thing; I don’t imagine a great white would want another apex predator in its patch.
By this time, I was running out of breath and starting to get worried.
It’s about damned time. I was beginning to think you were part merman.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it back to the surface. Just when I thought that I was about to reach my end, the shark ducked into a cave. Not knowing what else to do, I followed it inside.
Instead of surfacing for air, he heads deeper underwater into a mysterious cave.
With a great white shark.
This is just so stupid on so many levels.
It was a miracle. Inside the cave, I was able to breathe oxygen, but the shark seemed to be doing fine as well. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath.
Is he in water, or is it an air pocket? If he can collapse to his knees, that would argue that this is an air pocket of some sort since trying the same maneuver in water would result in him floating around.
I didn’t think things could get any stranger, but then the shark started to speak. “You can stay in that position,” he said, “For what we’re about to do next.”
Stunned, I stammered, “H-how?”
How is the shark able to talk? I have no idea; shark anatomy lacks the basic physical structures needed to produce speech of any kind.
The shark smiled a big, toothy grin.
Sharks also lack motile lips and physically cannot smile. Their mouths just look like that.
“This is my magic cave.
Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Here, we can both breathe, and we can understand each other.
Despite the fact that this is completely impossible on many, many levels. I can’t even tell if the cave is filled with a liquid or a gas.
This is where I bring humans who… Interest me.”
This is the point where I really start hoping that the author isn’t a vore enthusiast.
The shark paused before speaking again. “I am a shark of few needs. All I need to be satisfied is a fish to eat, an ocean to swim in, and someone to pleasure these.”
With that, he pointed at a part of his body with his fins. I gasped. He was pointing to his gigantic claspers- his twin shark penises.
Wow. A fanfic author got something right! Sharks do have two penes, called claspers.
These massive rods formed of cartilage and nightmares are located in the tail section of the shark:
They’re tucked in close to the body between the pelvic fins so they aren’t flapping around in the currents.
I didn’t understand why, but I felt a stirring in my pants and an irresistible attraction to his oversized sex organs. “I’ve never had sex with a shark before,” I whispered quietly.
For numerous reasons that I really shouldn’t have to go into, you shouldn’t have sex with a shark now. Or ever.
“Funny,” he replied, “I’ve had sex with more humans than you could count on those fingers of yours.”
Would having more than ten transient sexual partners qualify someone for promiscuous status? And what does the shark’s past sexual history have to do with Fin’s lack of sexual history with sharks? I would assume that sharks seeking human sexual partners is something that rarely happens even in this bizzaro world, so the odds of any random human having a sexual experience involving a shark are only microscopically better than the odds of any random human having a sexual experience with a unicorn.
He swam closer so he could whisper his next sentence directly into my ear. “But you know, even I had to start somewhere.”
How, exactly, did this shark first start viewing humans as sexual objects instead of prey? How did he discover this “magic cave” that allows his victim to remain alive? Was there a trial and error process? Are there dozens of caved filled with the bloated bodies of his former paramours? And were they all males? Can the shark even discern the difference between human genders?
Suddenly, I could feel his claspers rubbing against my mouth.
Very suddenly, since the shark was just whispering in Fin’s ear and those claspers are way down at the other end of the shark’s body.
By now, my boner was harder than the rock walls of the cave we were in.
Ouch. That can’t be comfortable. Fin sprouted wood earlier after nothing more than a wave from a pretty girl; he might have some sort of medical condition.
Unable to take it any more, I opened my mouth and drew the head of one of the claspers into my mouth. “No,” he said, “Take both.” I let my jaw drop open as far as it could and managed to squeeze the second of his massive cocks inside.
Despite my Googling prowess, I can’t find any definitive numbers on the average size of a male great white’s claspers – but I did find a few pictures of people catching great whites that showed the exposed claspers in relation to a human. From my best guess, the clasper of a great white would be roughly the size of a baseball bat. Fin managed to shove two of them into his mouth.
I ran my tongue over them, amazed at their smoothness.
I’m amazed that you can move your tongue at all, given how frickin’ big these things are.
He began to push them deeper inside, so deep that I almost gagged. I started to move my head back and forth over the sizable lengths. He sighed with pleasure. “You’re good,” he said. “Able to fit more than most. Keep at it.”
Fin must be able to dislocate his jaw like a frickin’ snake.
“Mmph,” I replied, my mouth too full of shark dong to say anything else.
I, too, have been rendered speechless by that sentence.
I was working up a rhythm when I felt him grab my hair with his fin. He was the one in control now, rocking my head back and forth.
Shark fins are not flexible enough to grab anything. Even if they were, the only fins in the region are stubby little things.
Just when I was sure he couldn’t go much longer before climax, he pulled out, bringing a long strand of my saliva out with him. Once again, I found myself on my knees gasping for breath.
Once again I’m wondering if they are in some sort of air pocket. The presence of a strand of saliva, which would not behave in such a manner if they were immersed in fluid, and the gasping makes me think that they are in an air pocket, but if that were so then the shark shouldn’t be able to move around freely.
The logistics of this encounter were not very well thought out. It’s distracting me from the badly written porn.
“Now it’s my turn,” he said, and pulled down my swim trunks. My cock sprang free with delight, colliding with his head. “Oh, you’re a feisty one. I like it.”
Fin is on his knees, gasping for air. That is not a position that allows for the easy removal of swim trunks, or ready access to his penis. Also:
:points to picture of shark:
Fin is down there, where the claspers are. The shark’s head is at least fifteen feet away. Even if the shark moved and used his pectoral fins, those are still several feet away from the head. The human penis is nowhere near that big.
His mouth started to move towards my very erect penis. “Hold on,” I said. “Won’t this hurt?”
Gee, what would give you that idea?
He grinned. “Of course,” he said, “But who doesn’t like a side of pain with their pleasure?”
The male members of our Patronage, assuming they made it this far, may wish to skip over this next part.
With that, he closed his jaws around my throbbing member, placing it in a small gap between his teeth, and began to roughly fellate me. I sometimes still masturbate to the thought of the agony swirled with ecstasy that ensued. The sides of his teeth hurt so good as they scraped against the sides of my shaft.
Sweet mercy. That just … Ouch. Ouch times a million. There are some significant gaps between the teeth, but the teeth themselves are … Well, just look at this.
The edges of a shark’s teeth are serrated, like kitchen knives, and are designed to tear into flesh and rip out chunks. Fin would have been better off fucking a cheese grater.
Meanwhile, his fin found its way to the other side of my body and started gently probing my tight asshole.
I know sharks don’t have any bones, but I seriously doubt they would be this flexible.
It was the strangest feeling I’ve ever experienced- and I wanted more. “Fuck,” I softly whispered. Then, screaming: “Oh FUCK!” A great amount of white cum shot down that great white’s eager throat. His lips stayed clamped shut over my aching cock as my body shuddered with delight until he had drained even last bit of jizz from my body.
That was quick.
“That was ama-,” I started to say, but his other fin delicately silenced me before I could finish the thought. Without a word, he turned me around and bent me over. I knew what was coming, but I was so ready. My anus tingled as I listening to him smearing lube on his claspers. “Is that some kind of special lube you found in the ocean?” I asked, genuinely curious.
The shark brought lube. Seriously?
He chuckled. “Nope, just some normal human lube someone like you gave me.
This raises so many questions that I do not want answered.
Now quiet. This takes some concentration.” He swam closer to me and spread my ass open. “Oh, what a butt. What a lovely butt,” I heard him say under his breath.
I’m still getting distracted by all the swimming-in-air/breathing-in-water bullshit that’s going on.
I felt his claspers tantalizingly poking where my poop comes out, slowly working their way in through my tightness.
I am once again rendered speechless by the fic.
Suddenly, without warning, he plunged the full length of his claspers into my awaiting hole.
Given the size difference, all the lube in the world isn’t going to make this happen.
I nearly passed out from the shock of it, but as he began working into a rhythm, my unintentional tears of pain turned into tears of joy. He may have literally torn me a new asshole, but god, it was worth it for that toe-curling pleasure.
Dude. Not only would that hurt like hell, there are some major blood vessels in that area. Fin’s going to bleed out before he can climax.
And somehow through all of it, it felt so… tender. And loving.
… Not the words I would have chosen.
Like he really did want me in more than a sexual way.
As he pounds two baseball bats made of meat into your ass.
It was beautiful.
Fuck. I was falling for a shark.
Five minutes ago he wanted to bang the hot boob-babe on the beach, and now he’s in love with a shark. Fin has emotional stability issues.
He finally came and we both collapsed, both gasping- me for breath, and him for water (I never did figure out how that cave worked).
I’m still trying to figure that out, too.
My respite didn’t last long, however. After about a minute, he pulled me back to my feet.
“Time to see what you’ve got,” he said with a toothy grin. He lay on his stomach, exposing his shark anus for me.
First off, it’s a cloaca. Secondly – it’s on the pectoral side of the shark! If he’s laying on his belly, then he’s covering up his cloaca.
Somehow, I grew even harder. I wanted to fuck the brains out of this creature right now.
You should probably focus more on the massive internal hemorrhaging you just sustained, sweetheart.
I restrained myself long enough to tease him out a bit, kissing all down his chest before pressing my lips to his delectable asshole. My tongue worked its way around the rim, causing him to moan. “Oh, you’re good,” he said. “Most don’t think to do that.” I tossed his salad for another minute before pulling myself up. It was time.
The narration just stated that the shark was on his belly – how can Fin kiss his chest, much less give the shark a rimjob?
There’s something for the list of sentences I never thought I’d type.
I thrust my penis inside the shark, feeling the tight walls of his back door around my rock-hard dick. My own ass wrapped nicely around his anal fin, giving me some extra pleasure. As I fucked him, I brought my mouth back down to his claspers, and with one lick hardened them again. I took their full length down my throat as my own shaft penetrated him deeper and deeper.
Very graphic imagery, but this ain’t happenin’. The cloaca is located at the base of the claspers:
It is just amazing what you can find through Google, isn’t it?
I’m not sure how much longer this heavenly experience lasted before we finally came together, ejaculating our sperm inside of each other.
You know what else male sharks do during mating besides ejaculating? They bite their mates. Repeatedly.
I think that’s either the third or fourth way Fin would have sustained life-endangering injuries during this romantic interlude.
Once again, we fell apart, gasping and moaning. “Can I say it this time?” I asked. He nodded. “That was AMAZING. Not to sound like Aladdin here, but you just showed me a whole new world.”
I used to like that song.
He smiled sheepishly. “And you as well, human. I’ve always laid with your kind purely for pleasure, but you… Somehow, you’re different.” He looked away sheepishly. “I think I have feelings for you.”
Hunger is a feeling.
“I think I have feelings for you too,” I whispered. We moved in closer to share a tender kiss.
Again – no motile lips. Sharks cannot kiss. They can bite, however.
And then it happened. As I turned my body towards him, I cut my arm on a rock. It barely hurt, but I took a look at it anyway and saw a small sliver of blood escaping. “It’s nothing,” I laughed. “Just a little scratch.” But when I turned back towards him, I knew everything had changed.
In all the shenanigans that these two just got up to, this is the first time he’s bled? No. Just … No. I don’t buy that.
The shark’s bloodlust had taken over. I could see it in his eyes and knew I had mere seconds to act.
Less time than that, if you were going in for a kiss when this happened. That mouth full of Satan’s garbage disposal should be mere inches away from Fin.
Drawing from my lifeguard training, I punched him in the nose, knocking out one of his teeth in the act.
As you can see from the many, many images I have provided, the mouth of a shark is located on the underside of the snout. Even if Fin punched the shark, which is actually what most guides recommend doing during a shark attack, he shouldn’t be near the mouth. That’s an area you really want to avoid, if at all possible.
While he was stunned, I grabbed the tooth and swam as fast as I could to the surface.
Why did he take the tooth? What is he going to do with that?
… On second thought, I don’t want to know.
Thankfully, a boat was sitting only about 50 feet about.
:sounds of booted feet echoing down the hallway:
I got this.
:walks over to door and flings it open:
Hey, guys! I HAVE SHARK EROTICA!
:sounds of booted feet running away in fear:
“Help!” I yelled. “Shark!”
Let me get this straight – Fin swam out of the magic cave and to a boat that was fifty feet away and the shark didn’t catch up to him? Fin should try out for the Olympic swim team.
They pulled me aboard and gave me a towel to dry off.
Instead of checking him for injuries or questioning him on where he had been.
Where did this boat come from? Were they out looking for Fin because he was reported missing? Was he even gone long enough to be reported missing? All that sex was really fast, it was only a matter of minutes between when they entered the magic cave (both literally and figuratively) and when the shark was suddenly overcome with mindless bloodlust that somehow wasn’t quite strong enough to actually be a danger to Fin.
As I sat there on the boat returning to shore, I looked down at the shark tooth and started to sob. The crew chalked it up to shock, but you and I know the real truth.
If they think he’s going into shock, wouldn’t they do more than just toss him a towel to dry off with? Do they even have a reason to believe that he has a reason to go into shock? This boat was floating along in the Formless Void and Fin popped up beside it shouting something about a shark, but there’s no sign that the shark pursued him or that anyone on the boat saw the shark.
Was there even a shark? Was the whole sexual fantasy just a hallucination brought on by a lack of oxygen?
I still think about that shark sometimes. I wear his tooth around my neck when I’m out surfing with the slim hope that I’ll run into him again.
Maybe it’s just me, but if I made mad, passionate, and highly improbable love with someone and in the afterglow they punched me in the mouth and knocked out a tooth, if I saw that person walking around with my tooth around their neck like it was a damned trophy, I would not feel very charitable towards them.
During the events in LA, what some are calling a “sharknado,” I was constantly scanning the skies, looking for him. He was nowhere to be found.
Considering that you’re running for your life during most of those scenes, I think it’s understandable that you could miss a few things.
Would it even be possible to distinguish one great white shark from another at a distance? Unlike people, they are pretty uniform in appearance. From what I’ve been able to find online, most marine life, like whales and sharks, are primarily identified by their scars and other anomalies. There’s no mention of the sexy-fun-times shark having any scars or identifying marks, so he wouldn’t be readily identifiable – especially if he was being flung through the air at high speeds.
I doubt I’ll ever see him again. After I killed so many of his brethren, I doubt he’d even want to see me.
Considering that the only other shark in the fic snubbed the sexy-fun-times shark, I don’t think he’d be that broken up about it. He’d probably be happy that there are fewer sharks in the area and he has more prey for himself.
But I will never forget the first time I went inside the shark.
But with the size differences you essentially just put in the tip, which some have argued doesn’t count. (It totally does, though.)
That’s it for the shark erotica, Patrons! If you’d like to join me in the Brain Bleach Jacuzzi, the conga line forms behind me.