Can a Shark Swim in Gender Fluid?

By Beedok

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Part One

Maraĵa’s alarm clock didn’t go off overly early by the standards of most people, but it was too early for her. Working as a club waitress at a floating resort like the Hydraquos pushed her sleep schedule to be downright nocturnal. 

Dragging herself out of bed, Maraĵa wandered over to her fridge, the kitchenette of her bachelor apartment being only a few steps from her bed. She dug around for a bagel to toss some cold cuts on, and slowly ate while blinking angrily at her clock. She’d been having a very nice dream about… something. She didn’t quite remember. There was water involved.

Maybe another dream about being in the ocean? Those had been more common since her procedure.

After a quick yawn, she headed over to brush her teeth. A process made more interesting lately by the effects of her dip in a nano-tub. The effects of which left her smiling whenever she saw her reflection now. For there was undeniably a girl staring back at her. And not just any type of girl.

A shark girl. With a mouth full of impressive slicing teeth. 

Or, at least the front was. She still had molars in the back, as well as more in the way of cheeks than a shark would. Little things that made living in human society easier. But, all the same, she had the teeth, the multi-toned grey skin, dark eyes, and even a tail. 

Obviously not a look everyone would be thrilled to see in the mirror, but she kind of liked it. And definitely preferred it to what she’d seen in the mirror before the dip.

Morning washing up done, she tossed on the ‘tube, putting on some cartoons while she worked out. The dip might have given her a body she dreamed of, but she was the one who had to maintain it now. 

She only had a few hours to kill before work, though. Friday (along with Saturday) was a ten hour shift. Not exactly the most enjoyable of things, but her other two shifts were only six hours, she got three days off, and the tips were excellent.

Plus, there was the whole ‘pay for a gender affirming dip in a nano-tub’. Part of the company’s recruitment policy, as there was always more demand for exotically modified folks than there was a supply. Lots of trans folks, however, were happy to become a shark or a cat or whatever if it came with a free dip (not to mention the disproportionate representation of trans folks in the population who actually wanted to be something other than a baseline human). 

Maraĵa had been a bit on the edge between ‘fine with’ and ‘wanting’ herself, but now that she was shark-y she was happy to embrace it.

Of course, despite all that, she wasn’t exactly thrilled at having to set off for the first of two days of ten hour shifts. She was pretty sure few people would like that long of a shift at a customer service job. At least the commute was short. The floating resort sat alone in the middle of the Mediterranean, all employee housing simply a few hundred metres and an elevator ride away from any part of the resort. 

Riding the nearest elevator up, she was soon at the service sub-level of the Club Ajkula, stepping into the staff change room. She found a couple of coworkers (also both trans and sharkish) chatting away excitedly about a VIP of some sort that they couldn’t believe had come to Hydraquos. 

“Anyone I would know about?” Maraĵa asked, while pulling off her shirt.

“President Sharif,” Chloe replied.

When Maraĵa stared blankly, Francesca stepped in.

“You know. The President of the Venusian Confederation.”

“Oh… r—right. Yeah,” Maraĵa said, trying to act like she knew what they were talking about. “What’s, uh… what’s President Sharif doing here? We usually get more notice for political conferences and all that jazz.”

“You really don’t watch the news, do you?” Chloe asked.

“Um… no? It’s kind of depressing,” she mumbled weakly.

“His government was overthrown?” Francesca added, not impressed by Maraĵa’s lack of knowledge about politics. “He’s running away from a military junta.”

“Oh…” Maraĵa said, realising what that meant. “We’re going to be crawling with police and stuff, aren’t we?”

“We already are, on the upper decks and loading docks,” Francesca said, shaking her head. “I’m staying on the resort as much as possible… at least until he goes somewhere else. Security checks like that are annoying.”

Slightly more nervous about the immediate future, her mind awash with the ideas of junta sponsored terrorism and the like, Maraĵa did her best to focus on the simpler matter of getting changed into her work uniform. Which, really, was little more than a swimsuit with a garter to clip a stylus and mini-PDA onto. Well, that and some sensible footwear, a necessity on longer shifts like this.

By the time she was done a few more coworkers had filtered in, the various folks discussing the news.

“He’s coming here!” a baseline human said, hurrying into the changeroom.

Maraĵa recognised him as one of the cooks, and the poor man looked absolutely terrified.

“We know,” Chloe replied.

“No. No… here. To Club Ajkula,” the cook replied. “The resort manager is going to do an inspection before he gets here.”

A wave of grumblings and muttered profanities spread through the change room before the various shark-ish men, women, and others hurried to make sure they looked as presentable as possible.

It had turned out that the word of warning had only bought them a few minutes before the manager arrived, critiquing the staff on dirty shoes, dated hairstyles, and anything else he could think of. Still, they passed muster, if only barely. The manager then headed into the kitchen, where they heard a fair bit of yelling.

Grabbing a back elevator up to the club itself, the soft blue lighting coming off the various fish tanks seemed slightly dimmer than usual. Maraĵa wasn’t sure if that was a request from the exiled president (some peculiar taste or desire for a tactical advantage) or an effort to hide stains and scuffs that couldn’t have been washed out. She suspected the latter as it wasn’t that much darker than usual, but who could say what a VIP like that wanted? She just knew that they’d get it.

A couple of slow and terrifying minutes later, the front doors opened, a pair of gigantic men dressed in South Asian formalwear giving the room a brief visual sweep before opening the doors further. The owner of the resort was there, blatantly sucking up to who could only be President Sharif. The President was taller than she expected. She knew lots of offworlders tended to be, but Venusians were generally the exception to that. Their gravity was roughly as strong as Earth’s, after all. Which did mean they did better when visiting. Lunar or Martian tourists tended to flop on lounge chairs or stay in the pools as much as possible. 

Still, even if she could tell the President was rather tall, he was dwarfed by his bodyguards. The first pair of men were followed by a half dozen other security personnel. Most were men, but there were two female guards in the group. Seeing such towering and solidly built women made poor Maraĵa even more nervous than she’d been before.

“Looks nice,” the President said simply, causing the owner to gush happily at the news. “I will take a booth in the back. I trust security checks at the entrances, so I see no reason to bar other guests from entering.”

The owner gushed some more, before hurrying over to hiss something at the manager. 

To Maraĵa’s surprise, it wasn’t long before other customers started filing in. Less than usual for a Friday night, and a few seemed to leave early with those mildly hulking bodyguards lurking about, but the club still picked up.

As she served customers, she vaguely noticed a few different people joined the President at his booth. She supposed it made a good place for a meeting, with the low lights, loud noises, and constant stream of people moving in and out. If she ever found herself in a spy thriller type situation she’d try to remember that.

“Got an interest in politics, do you, cute stuff?” one of the bodyguards said, managing to sneak up on her despite his towering physique. 

Having someone that big appear behind her on short notice caused her to jump with fright, and she took a moment to calm her nerves before she could reply.

“I’m just a waitress. I pay attention to who’s doing what at my club,” she replied, trying to keep her back straight and hoping her tail wasn’t doing anything to show her nervousness (she still wasn’t great at controlling it yet). “It helps me keep guests safe and provide good service.”

The large man nodded. “Fair enough, little shark. Just try to look in that corner a little less often, alright? And, hey, if you let me buy you a drink when you get off I might not even need to mention this in my report.”

He grinned, but the expression was just short of obnoxious. There was a genuineness to his eyes and posture that a lot of guys she had to deal with lacked.

And so, she decided to be more polite that usual with turning him down.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but if I accepted it would be under false pretenses. I’m a lesbian.”

The towering bodyguards nodded slowly. “Noted.”

 

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That one little run in was the worst of it, though. She did her best to ignore the President’s booth and the bodyguards ignored her for the rest of the night. 

By the time her shift was done, she had accepted that the new guest didn’t change all that much about her life. Instead, her focus was on finding something to eat and putting her feet up. Some tuna salad sounded very nice.

 

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The next day, the President went elsewhere. That led to Club Ajkula being busier than usual, guests shying away from wherever the President and his intimidating bodyguards were. Though, she did notice a guard or two come into the club from time to time. Most seemed like they were off duty, however. 

She had to wonder just how many of them were at the resort now, but she’d decided it was better not to ask. Not after her run in last night. She didn’t want anyone deciding that maybe she really was a spy. That sort of thing ended badly, even if you were perfectly innocent. At least in the movies, but she had no reason to suspect those were lying in this case.

As such, she was generally ignoring the various large men as much as she could as a waitress. Being nosy was a pointless risk, and she had no interest in a bunch of beefy men.

That disinterest, however, evaporated when the next three bodyguards walked in. Three bodyguards that were women. One was looking dashing in a button up shirt and dress pants, while the other two were managing to look gorgeous in clubbing dresses. As they towered over everyone else in the club.

It was hard for Maraĵa to take her eyes off the three of them. How could she ignoring muscular amazons who moved with the grace of dancers? Two with deep brown skin, no doubt further tanned by the Venusian sun, while the third was a literal tigress. That last point surprising Maraĵa, as she hadn’t thought she’d seen any non-baselines in the bodyguard patrols. 

The fact the trio, after a few minutes of observing the club from the bar, then chose to head towards her section of the bar made Maraĵa’s heart beat even faster. She saw them giving the menus a quick study, and realised she had a job to do.

Stealing her nerves, she headed over to their table. “Hello, I see you have your drinks already, but would you care for anything to eat?”

“Tuna steak,” the tigress said.

“Extra large nachos,” the butch one added.

“I wouldn’t mind a little shark,” the third said, with a waggle of her eyebrows.

The noise that escaped from Maraĵa was not what one would generally called dignificed. Nor was the blush that flared across her face.

“Thusitha,” the tigress hissed, elbowing her friend.

“What? She looked plenty hungry watching us, and she’s very cute,” the South Asian looking woman replied. “I’d also like the jumbo burger for now, though… but the offer still stands.”

Still flush, Maraĵa noted the choices down, before giving a slight now. “I’m here until close, so you’d have a long wait for that ‘dessert’.”

Thusitha grinned happily. “I’m a patient woman.”

Nodding, Maraĵa turned around and stiffly marched towards the kitchen window. She wasn’t sure if she was more frazzled by the brazen flirting or the realisation she’d liked it.

Sure, most of the staff were pretty quick to sneak off with customers. Part of the appeal of the club was knowing the modified staff weren’t just nice to look at, but might have a little fun on the side. Maraĵa, however, had generally not been one for that. In the months she’d worked a Club Ajkula, she’d only had one quick romance, and that had been with a regular. A woman who lived on the islands not far off and had come every couple weeks for a party.

Jumping into things like this… well, Maraĵa could say it definitely wasn’t something she’d have done before the nano-tub.

However, once the food was ready, and she returned to the table, she couldn’t help but be hypnotized by Thusitha’s appearance once more. How could a newly realised lesbian like her resist a woman who made rugby players look small?