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You make your way through the park, watching people enjoy themselves. As you look out over the lake, you can see some of them fishing, either from the pier, or boats they’ve rented. Suddenly getting in the mood to go fishing yourself, you look around and spot a little fishing rod rental.
The owner of the shop offers you a free lesson to go with the rod, but you politely decline. You’ve seen it dozens of times on TV and it never looked difficult, so you are confident you don’t need any help.
You meander over to the shore, wind up, and cast the rod into the lake, without aiming anywhere in particular, and it seems to pay off! Almost immediately, you can feel something tug and pull at your rod, and you quickly return the favour. It’s a bit of a struggle, but eventually you manage to pull your catch out of the water.
What greets you is not a fish, however, it’s a wet pair of swimming trunks slapping right into your face.
After removing the swimwear from your face you look it over and notice that it had gotten torn up, mostly likely from being tugged around by your fishing rod. You are wondering where it came from, or rather who it belongs to, but the question is answered not long after, when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder.
When you turn around, all you can see is abs. When you look up you can see the face of a rather disgruntled looking shark, staring down at you. When you look down, you can see why.
You flash an apologetic smile at the rather muscular shark and meekly raise the torn up swimwear up towards him, but he doesn’t seem all that interested in his torn pants anymore.
He wraps a hand around your neck and squeezes, producing a little ‘squeak’, as if you were a squeaky toy, and after lifting you off the ground, he grabs you with his other hand as well and simply begins to mush, squish and knead you around.
You can feel your body contort, twist and wrap around and into itself as the shark uses you as a stress toy, though he eventually stops aimlessly smushing you around. After that, he squishes you more methodically, each movement of his hands deliberate and with purpose. It’s rather dizzying being manhandled like this, though after a while he stops, and when you come to you realize exactly what the now grinning shark has done.
You whimper and plead as he slips you over his legs, but he’s not having any of it, and soon enough, you’re wrapped snugly around his hips, stretched into a perfect fit for the buff sharky.