Mermen and Wolf Girls in Miami

Look, Mother Nature's a mad scientist but she's yet to create a single-gendered species, although there are a few asexual entities out there, such as certain types of plants, and that annoying teacher I had in the eleventh grade. That's why, well, I wish people would stop being surprised when I tell them that I am a Merman. Apparently, in the minds of some idiots ( I'm referring to members of the superhuman community, who really should know better ) you can have Mermaids but not Mermen. As if!

The name is Alastair Hassan, Al to my friends, and I've got a story to share with you. I was born in the City of Miami, Florida, to a Lebanese Christian father, Alexander Hassan, and a Haitian immigrant mother, Catherine Etienne. Thanks to my mother's side of the family, I recently inherited certain unique genetic gifts. Alright, I guess I've had them my whole life, but I only discovered them recently.

What might those gifts be? Oh, they're really something, let me tell you. I can breathe under water, thanks to tiny gills that appear on my neck whenever I come in contact with salt water, and I swim faster than anyone else on the planet. My senses of sight, smell and hearing are exceptionally sharp, far beyond the norm. I am monstrously strong, and I heal quickly from injuries that would kill an ordinary human being. Sounds cool, right?

Anyhow, my parents saw fit to drop this shit on me a week after I graduated from Poseidon High School in Miami. I was eighteen years old, about to go on a trip around the country with my best friend Derek Shore, like we swore we would, and then my parents dropped this freaky bit of news in my lap.

"I'm a Merman? Mom's a Mermaid? What the fuck?" Those were my exact words when my parents dropped this revelation in my lap. We were in the living room of our new house in South Beach. When my Dad yelled at me to come downstairs, I thought he'd discovered my hidden collection of Big Black Butt Magazine titles, but the truth turned out to be much worse.

"Son, we wanted to tell you the truth but you weren't ready for it," said my father, Miami-Dade County Sheriff Alexander Hassan, and I looked at this short, stocky, bronze-skinned and dark-haired man, who raised me from birth, and I honestly hated him in that one instant. All of us hate our parents at some point, however fleeting the moment, I guess.

"How could you guys hide something this huge from me?" I said accusingly, and looked at my mother, and my mom matched my stare. Tall and slender, with dark brown skin and short black hair streaked with gray, Mom is the definition of a no-nonsense woman. Dad and I love her, and we're both terrified of her. Imagine Samuel L. Jackson as a woman, that's my mom, and I say this in a loving, fearfully respectful way.

"Mind your tone, Ali, I won't ask you again," Mom said, and I smiled frostily at her. When my mother, a Yale-educated corporate attorney, takes that tone with someone, she absolutely means business. Typically, Dad and I comply, because it's easier on our ears. I've never been the confrontational type. Seriously, I am the definition of laidback. Not this time.

"Mom, why did you wait so long to tell me that I'm a freak?" I said, shaking my head. As my mother struggled to come up with a reply, I got up and left. My Dad called my name, but I just dashed out of the house, jumped into my bright red Lexus RC Coupe and took off. I needed to clear my head, get some air, you know?

I kept thinking about various incidents in my life, which I dismissed or overlooked at the time, and suddenly, a lot of things made sense. I was the star of the swim team at Poseidon High School, and I had a scholarship to the University of Miami, courtesy of their Men's Diving Team. Cool, eh?

A lot of middle-class guys and gals my age are going to major colleges and universities thanks to their parents money. Me? I am proud to say that I made it on my own power. I'm going to a top notch school because of my talents, not who my parents are. It's all me. Or so I thought.

If I'm a genetic freak, then I haven't been competing against fellow swimmers fairly, not in the least. I always thought that I swam faster than other guys because I was naturally good, I didn't know that I was supernaturally good. In the late 1980s, as an undergrad, my mom used to wow them on the Yale University women's swim team. I used to say that I got my swimming talents from my mother. How ironic, eh?

My world got turned upside down thanks to this weird bit of news, and as I raced through Coral Gables sleepy streets, on my way to my buddy Derek Shore's house, I suddenly realized that I couldn't tell him about this shit. Not yet. The world is a fairly intolerant place. As the son of an Arab father and a Black mother, I used to get teased by the other youths at Poseidon High School because of my skin color and ethnic features.

At eighteen years old, I stand six feet two inches tall, with short, curly black hair, light brown skin and lime-green eyes. I used to tell people that I am mixed, or biracial ( I find the term mulatto outdated and offensive ) but these days, I solely identify as African-American. It was a long, painful journey for me, but I am stronger now because of it.

"What's up, Al? Holler at your boy," Derek said to me as I pulled into the driveway of his parents mansion in Santa Maria Street, one of the nicest areas of Coral Gables. I looked at this tall, red-haired, alabaster-skinned and heavily tattooed White dude, and smiled.

"Good to see you bro," I said, and gave Derek a hug. We walked into his house, and luckily, his folks weren't home. Derek's parents, Marianne and James Shore, work in real estate and they're the definition of uptight. I've known Derek for years, and they were always polite but cold when I came over for a visit. That's Florida for you, down here, even White liberals with Obama posters in their living rooms are "a certain way".

"What's troubling you, Al?" Derek said, tossing me a beer as we headed to the basement. Derek's basement is huge, filled with everything from video games to a pool table, a comfortable sofa, several couches, a mini-fridge, and a poster of his ancestor, Lieutenant Luther Shore, who served beside Robert E. Lee during the U.S. Civil War. My best buddy is descended from rednecks, but he's an awesome guy.

"Man, my parents are tripping and just told me some family history I honestly didn't want or need to know," I said, and Derek smiled, then jerked his thumb toward the oil painting of his ancestor on the wall. Lieutenant Luther Shore looked good in his Confederate uniform, almost to the point that you want to overlook the fact that the man used to own slaves and thought it worth fighting for.

"Bro, welcome to the club, my parents consider themselves Democrats and all that shit, but they find it worth mentioning whenever a brown or black family moves into Coral Gables," Derek said, and sipped his beer, his pale eyes fixed on me.

"Family is everything, and nothing messes you up quite like family," I replied softly, and Derek nodded, then finished his beer. I thought about what Derek was saying. When Derek and I met, three years ago, I was one of thirty eight non-White students among Poseidon Academy's eleven hundred pupils. Needless to say, at this elite private school, I was a target for bullies.

When I tried out for the Poseidon High School swim team freshman year and made it, a lot of the other guys on the team weren't happy. Apparently, if you're black and male, and you like to swim, some White folks think it's the end of the damn world. The team's former captain, Joshua Davis, and his buddies Colin Wood and Jefferson Whitmore, really hated my guts. One night, after swim team practice, they cornered me.

"Look, you little half-breed, I don't know how you swim so damn fast but your luck just ran out," Joshua said, and he shoved me against the wall. In those days, I was shorter and kind of scrawny, and I didn't stand a chance against Joshua and his fellow bullies.

"Dude, dunk that little turd's head in the pool!" Colin Wood said, quite encouragingly, and then he and Whitmore cheered Joshua Davis on as he grabbed me, and proceeded to drag me to the pool. Once there, Joshua dunked my head into the pool while the other two bozos held me down. They held me there for a long time, I should have drowned, and probably would have, if I were a normal person.

Once my head got dunked under water, the weirdest thing happened. I didn't panic, nor did I struggle. I remained calm, for, amazingly, I felt fine. I didn't realize it at the time, but I could actually breathe under the water. I don't know for how long Colin and the other creeps would have held me there if someone hadn't intervened.

Derek Shore, who was forced to clean up after school as punishment for spraying graffiti on Principal J.T. Walsh's house, happened to be near the pool at the time and came to investigate the noise. Upon seeing what Colin Wood and the other bozos were doing to me, he intervened.

"Let go of him, guys! If you don't, I swear I'm calling the cops!" Derek shouted, and then Colin let me go, and I fell into the pool, headfirst. Derek dove in after me, and amazingly, he grabbed me and brought me back to the surface. I was in no danger, I realize that now, but I am thankful for Derek's intervention, and always will be.

"Are you alright?" Derek said, as he brought me back to solid ground, in a manner of speaking, and I smiled and nodded. Colin, Whitmore and Joshua walked away, laughing. Derek wanted to call the cops, since Joshua and his buddies almost murdered me, but I said no. Tattling to the authorities never solved anything, this was my high school mentality.

That same year, Joshua, Colin and Whitmore graduated from Poseidon High School, being seniors and all, and Derek and I became close friends. We were from different worlds. Derek's parents are multi-millionaire real estate mogul types, and my parents are hard working, highly educated professionals, firmly ensconced in the upper middle class.

Derek and I couldn't be more different. I like Rap, Hip Hop and some Reggae. Derek likes Country music and Rock, thinks of Tommy Lee as his personal demigod. I like Rap artists like Kanye West and Jay-Z, and I've had a crush on Tennis Star Serena Williams for ages, and not just because of her athletic prowess. That woman has an ass to die for! I will forever be mad at rapper/actor Common for wronging that fine sister so much that she decided to go back to White dudes. I'm not hating, I'm just disappointed, that's all.

"Dude, do you remember the night we met? I thought you were dead for sure, they had you under for a long time," Derek said suddenly, his voice startling me out of my reverie. I smiled at Derek and nodded. How could I forget that near-death experience?

"Yeah, dude, if you weren't there, I'd have died for sure," I said, and Derek nodded then sipped on his beer. For the longest time, I totally believed those words. Still, even before today, way before my parents dropped the news that I'm a Merman, I knew down deep in my soul that there was something unnatural about me, and it had to do with the water.

"I still think you should have let me call the cops and gotten those fuckers expelled and arrested," Derek said, and then he tossed his empty beer can into a nearby wastebasket in a move that NBA legend-in-the-making Lebron James himself would envy. Speaking of Lebron, I still hate his guts for leaving the Miami Heat, by the way. Cleveland-loving freak.

"Ancient history bro," I said, and then I got up, and told Derek I had to go home. Derek seemed puzzled, as I usually stay late at his place, and he does the same when he comes over to visit me, but this once, I realized that I needed some alone time. We exchanged dap, then Derek walked me to the door. I got in my Lexus and drove away, feeling blue.

Three months later, I began my classes at the University of Miami. I joined the Men's Diving Team, and I'm happy to say that even though I was the only brother on the team, the guys were cool. For a while, I was worried about how these NCAA champs would respond to me. My new teammates are cool people.

Actually, I'm not even the only minority on the team. There's this tall, skinny dude named Anthony "Ash" Ashitomi, from Japan, and he and I have become pretty close. We bonded over our mutual fascination with Wesley Snipes action movies. Apparently, he's even bigger in Asia than he ever was in the States. How cool is that?

I decided to study criminal justice at the University of Miami, since I probably know more about the law than the average person, on account of my parents being lawyers....as well as an interracial and cross-species couple. Mom schooled me on her past, and my heritage as a half-human, half-Merman entity, or whatever you want to call what in hell I am.

Homo Sapiens Aquaticus, that's the subspecies of humanity which my mother and I belong to. According to my Mom, tens of thousands of years ago, a group of people left Africa and traveled through the Middle East and Asia on their way back to the Ocean, where life began. Over time, they mutated and became amphibious, able to survive both in the water and on land.

Supposedly, there's a thriving civilization of these amphibious humanoids dwelling under the Ocean somewhere. My mother's family left them in the 1850s, for political reasons, moved to the island of Haiti, newly victorious over the French colonial masters, and settled there. They made their living as fishermen in the region of Cap-Haitien, Haiti, for generations. I am a fish man, in more ways than one, I guess.

My university career was off to a fine start, and I was doing fine at the University of Miami. Derek was studying at Florida State University, since, with his dismal grades, not even his parents wealth could get him into a top notch school. We're still in touch, and post jokes on each other's Facebook walls like the old days, but I haven't seen Derek in a while.

Through my good pal Ash, I met a woman whom I simply cannot forget. Michiko "Mimi" Kanamori, a tall, curvaceous and sinfully sexy young Japanese-American diva who's the president of the Asian Students Association at the University of Miami. This chick has it all, beauty, brains and booty. I'm talking about the kind of thick, round booty that Kim Kardashian and Serena Williams themselves would envy.

"Michiko, meet my buddy Al, this dude is the fastest swimmer on our team, we're going to win NCAA gold for sure," Ash said, with his arm on my shoulder, as he formally introduced me to his good friend Michiko Kanamori. We were at Dream Nightclub, one of the trendiest spots in Miami. The A.S.A. rented it for their first meet and greet of the year.

"Pleased to meet you Al," Michiko said, and she smiled as I shook her hand. Clad in a bright red evening gown that hugged her curvy body the way the freeway hugs the Florida coastline, Michiko Kanamori looked good enough to eat. Tall, statuesque and regal, this woman was definitely something else.

"Likewise," I said, and I returned Michiko's smile. I was drawn to this woman from the get go, and for once, the shyness I typically felt around females was gone. Something about Michiko was drawing out the beast in me, and I aggressively pursued her that night.

"Care to dance?" I asked Michiko, right on the spot, and she nodded, and then we hit the dance floor. I didn't really know how to dance but I've read somewhere that when dealing with women, it's all about confidence. I hit the dance floor with Michiko, and we did the bump and grind like there was no tomorrow. The feel of Michiko's supple body against mine, oh Lord!

"You dance like a madman, Al, but I like your style," Michiko said to me, as we faced each other on the dance floor. I was sweating profusely and so was she, and neither of us cared. I was feeling this woman, and I could tell that she was feeling me. That's why I made my move. I leaned in for a kiss, and what happened next stunned me.

"Whoa, there!" Michiko said, and as I leaned in for the proverbial kiss, this seemingly demure young woman grabbed me, and lifted me off my feet. I looked at Michiko Kanamori, stunned by her reaction. I'm not the skinny brat I was back in high school. I'm six-foot-two by two hundred and ten pounds, definitely no lightweight. Where did this gal get her strength?

"I'm sorry," I said, and Michiko glared at me, and a second, I swear, there was something wrong with her eyes. Michiko's eyes flashed yellow, and her face kind of changed, and I took a step back. Shoving her way past me, Michiko all but ran away from the dance floor. Everyone stared at us, and I saw more than a few accusing glares come my way.

"Michiko, please wait! I'm sorry!" I said, and darted after Michiko as she fled the night club. I went into the barely lit parking lot outside, and looked for her. Not finding Michiko, I looked around and was about to go back inside when a sound coming from the bushes startled the hell out of me.

"Go away!" Michiko's voice called out, only it sounded deeper than that of the curvy, exotic goddess whom I just danced with, before she manhandled me of course. I stepped closer to the bush, fully intent on apologizing to Michiko Kanamori for my behavior. I might be a genetic wonder, but alcohol affects me the same way it affects every other guy. In order words, it turned me into a dumbass.

"Please, I just want to apologize and make sure you're okay," I said as I stepped closer, and before I could utter another word, something leapt out of the bushes and knocked me on the ground. I looked up, and found myself looking up at a true horror.

A face straight out of a nightmare, which was both wolfish and human, and somehow feminine, was inches from mine. Bright yellow eyes locked with mine, and a mouth full of curving, yellowish fangs slowly let out a fetid breath dangerously close to my throat.

"What on Earth?" I whispered, and then, something else happened. I've known that I was different for ages, but I never truly knew the extent of those differences. My mother Catherine Etienne-Hassan is one hundred percent Homo Sapiens Aquaticus, a living, breathing Mermaid, and I am half human and half Merman. I'm not one hundred percent human, but I am not exactly like mommy dearest either. I'm in-between.

A startling transformation came over me, and as I looked at my hands, my skin went from light brown to a translucent greenish shade, and I saw scales growing all over me. I was so stunned that I temporarily forgot about the she-beast on top of me, and when I looked up, I saw shock in those golden eyes.

"What are you?" the she-beast growled, and as I looked into the wolfish-yet-still-human visage, and took in the fact that she was clad in a crimson dress, I realized that I was looking at Michiko Kanamori. Somehow, the lovely Japanese-American beauty whom I hit the dance floor with turned into this hairy, fanged and clawed beast.

"I don't know," I replied, and Michiko backed off of me, and amazingly, my skin resumed its light brown color, and the scales vanished. I looked at Michiko, and right before my eyes, the she-beast morphed back into the lovely Asian woman with the killer dance moves and easy smile. Weird, huh?

"What's going on here?" a loud masculine voice said, and Michiko and I looked up and saw two of the night club's bouncers. The two heavily muscled young men stepped toward us, and looked at me menacingly. I looked at Michiko, and we exchanged a look before she nodded without a word.

"My date had too much to drink, we're good," Michiko said, and she rose to her feet, then helped me up. I looked at Michiko, then at the bouncers, and managed a fake smile. I was still shocked, both by what I'd seen Michiko turn into, and what had happened to me, but I put that stuff on the back burner and played it cool.