Bisexual Werewolves Of Somalia

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Life and times of a bisexual Somali werewolf.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,123 Followers

If you're Somali, and happen to be gay, lesbian or bisexual, it's probably a good idea to keep it to yourself. Well, if you want to live, that is. Sometimes, I wonder what brings more pain into my complex life, my sexual orientation or, ahem, the other thing. That which marks me as different from the rest of humanity. What am I talking about? I'll get to that shortly.

The name is Bilal Abdullahi, and I'm a young Black man of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. This is my true story of learning to accept myself. All of me, that is. In an effort to blend in and avoid persecution, I've been known to ignore my true nature and my desires. Now I can no longer afford to do that.

"Bilal, you filthy Qaniis ( the Somali word for gay ), get your half-Bantu ass out of my house!" Shouted my aunt Jamila Abdullahi, the woman who raised me after my parents, Salim and Fartuun Abdullahi died under mysterious circumstances when I was little. I was coming home after a long overnight shift at Loblaw's where I work as a shelf stocker. I've been working long hours since I owe the University of Ottawa a lot of money, and I was in no mood for a fight, but fate apparently had other plans.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, and my aunt waved a copy of Brazilian Chicks With Dicks, a 32-page porn magazine I bought online a few months ago. My heart sank, and at once I realized that I was doomed. My aunt Jamila Abdullahi is a very religious and deeply intolerant woman. At once she tossed the magazine at my face, and I had to duck to avoid that incoming missile. There's always some drama happening in Vanier. My turn finally came.

"Damn," I mumbled to myself as I grabbed my backpack and ran out the house. Having missed the OC Transpo bus, I walked a couple of miles to my aunt's house, dog-tired after a long shift, and a blistering heat was choking the City of Ottawa. I ran out the house, which began my journey of trying to make it into this world as best I could.

I grabbed my bright green Presto card and used it to board the first bus I saw. I rode the bus to Saint Laurent Mall, and from there I grabbed another bus, one bound for downtown and headed to the Ottawa Main Library on Metcalfe Street. I sat at a public computer, and checked my CIBC account online. I had six hundred bucks, which I intended to use for a weekend getaway to Toronto but hey, life gives us changing priorities.

Three nights until the full moon. I could already feel the change coming. I couldn't be homeless when it happened. Detection leads to extermination, which leads to extinction. That's a mantra all of us the wolf people live by. I had to find something pronto. I looked on Kijiji and browsed the endless ads, looking for a room. Finally, I found a promising ad, one which advertised a one-bedroom spot for four hundred and forty bucks a month. I called the number on the ad and a female voice answered immediately.

"Hello, ma'am, my name is Bilal, and I'm a university student who is interested in the room," I said, as politely as I could. The lady at the other end chuckled softly, and told me the room was available for viewing that very afternoon. I arrived at the library around ten in the morning and by three, I was ready to leave. I went to check the room, which is located at a house near Algonquin College on Baseline Road, and liked it immediately.

"If you like it, let me know immediately, it's first come first serve," said the landlady, a plump Latina named Mercedes. I smiled and nodded, and then pretended to think about it. Like I had a choice. I signed the lease right then and there, and came by the next day to give the lady the first month's deposit. I had to wait until next week's pay to get the remainder.

"Brother, you can always stay with me when you're in a bind," said my good friend Suleiman Nahas, a young Lebanese dude I've known since my high school days. Suleiman works as a security guard downtown, and like me, he's queer. His parents threw him ages ago when they caught him in bed with Jacob, a Jamaican dude Suleiman used to kick it with in the old days. Of all my friends, Suleiman is the only one I've always been able to count on.

I stayed at my buddy Suleiman's place in Nepean, and moved into my new place a week later. I was broke, but at least I had a place to stay. Little did I know my problems were just beginning. Ladies and gentlemen, there's no way to escape what you are. You cannot run from it. You cannot hide from it. Sooner or later, you must face it.

All of us are little more than the sum of our bloodlines. We may think of ourselves as self-made men and women, but what those who came before passed down to us, for good and for ill, has a way of influencing what we become. As a Somali man raised in the Islamic faith, I felt cursed because I felt lust toward both sexes.

Add to that the fact that I am tall, gangly, and not particularly attractive, and you can understand why this brother has some issues. My father was an ethnic Somali but my mother was Bantu, and their inter-ethnic marriage wasn't something that my father's proud Somali family was thrilled about. All my life I've been told that I wasn't Somali enough, and my being outed as queer wasn't going to help me any.

The only escape I have from my problems is my other side. When the full moon came, I discretely exited Suleiman's place, and then went into the nearby woods. The Change came over me, and at once my body changed. I went from a six-foot-one, skinny and dark-skinned male to a wolf-like, humanoid monstrosity covered with grayish brown fur. My eyes turned yellow, and my teeth elongated and sharpened. My smooth fingernails turned into claws. My bestial self came to the surface, and I raced through the night.

I absolutely love being morphed and free. Seriously, when I am in my wolfish form, I can let go of all these problems of mine. My human side is submerged, subdued and almost completely gone. I remain my capacity for reason, deduction and problem-solving, but in a cold, practical way, one so very distant from the emotionally clogged way of human reasoning and thinking. I absolutely love having such clarity.

Moving at speeds exceeding those of cars, I race through Nepean. Drivers on the road might see a blur as I whiz by, that's about it. Soon I reach the woods, for much of the west end of Ottawa is nothing but wilderness. I reach the woods, my domain, and at once I feel at peace. Here, among the trees and the animals, surrounded by mother nature, far from the dreaded humans, I am supreme. Too soon dawn comes, and when the first rays of sunlight touch me, I once more return to my human form.

I awaken in a field, near the place where I left my clothes. Quietly I put them back on. At once my problems return. How I hate being human just for that. By now, I figured that the whole Somali community had heard about my sexuality thanks to my motor-mouthed aunt Jamila, so I steered clear of my people. I have always been a recluse, with few friends, and by and large, my life didn't change all that much. Until I went to a house party in Kanata. My buddy Suleiman always knows of some cool gay party, with plenty of hot Black guys and sexy Arab guys, and I figured that was just what I needed to get out of this funk.

"Trust me, bro, once you see what these studs look like, you'll forget all your troubles," Suleiman promised as we drove from Nepean to his pals house in Kanata. I was dressed fly in a red silk shirt, Black silk pants and Black timberland shoes. I had sprayed on enough Axe Deodorant body spray to drown in, and I was feeling pretty confident. Hell, I had condoms in my pocket and everything.

"Hell yeah, I haven't had the D in a while," I said, and Suleiman and I laughed heartily. Seriously, I hadn't gotten laid in ages. My last sexual encounter was over a year ago. I met this tall, cute brother named Said, from Djibouti, and he was cool and we fooled around a bit but he neglected to tell me that he had a wife and daughter. I don't fuck with married men. Hey, I'm queer but I have some class, alright?

Seriously, I don't have much luck when it comes to romance. After that fiasco with Said, I actually gave the girls a try. I've always felt attracted to both sexes, even if my sexual feelings for men were stronger. There's this tall, cute blonde chick named Beatrice Tremblay whom I met at work. Beatrice is a cashier, and has the thickest ass I've seen on a female in a long time. French Canadian girls got booty, seriously. A lot of guys at Loblaw's flirted with her but Beatrice only had eyes for me.

"So, you got a lady or what?" Beatrice asked me one night, while we were both on break. We were outside, smoking. I looked at her and shook my head. For some reason, my heart thundered in my chest. I looked at this gorgeous blonde chick and smiled nervously. Beatrice smiled and bit her lip, and only then did I realize that she expected an answer from me.

"Nope, I don't, but I'm looking to change that," I said coyly, and Beatrice grinned, and leaned closer to me. So close that I could smell her perfume, and a dozen other things that a brother usually has to get awfully close to a female to get a whiff of. Impulsively I leaned in for a kiss, and much to my surprise, Beatrice kissed me back.

That's how it began between Beatrice and I, folks. It's funny. Growing up in the City of Ottawa, I could never get a Somali chick but now that I was dating a White chick, all kinds of females, including Somali women, suddenly noticed that I exist. Beatrice was mad cool, and we went to movies and restaurants together. I found her funny, sexy and oh so kinky. Things I really, really like in a woman. Or in a man, come to think of it.

To say that our relationship was passionate would have been a serious understatement. Beatrice Tremblay was simply insatiable, and if you ask me, this freaky blonde mama was just what the doctor ordered. I hadn't had any in quite some time, and Beatrice definitely helped this brother make up for lost time.

"Lick my kitty," Beatrice said to me, as we fooled around in the Loblaw's basement one night. Beatrice and I had sex dozens of times since we started dating a couple of months ago, but we'd never done it at work. Nevertheless, I found myself turned on by the idea. Seriously, this chick was utterly fearless. When we rode the bus together, a lot of racist White guys and Black chicks stared at us with hate in their eyes. Beatrice would kiss me in front of them to piss them off even more. I couldn't get enough of her!

"Yes ma'am," I said, grinning as I knelt before Beatrice and inhaled the hot, sharp scent of her womanhood. I buried my face between her legs, and ate her pussy with gusto. Beatrice moaned softly as I pleasured her, sticking my tongue deep into her cunt and fingering her. Soon I had Beatrice's pussy wet as a puddle, and was ready to do more.

"Fuck me, Bee," Beatrice said in a halting tone, her blue eyes boring into mine. I grinned and pulled my dick out of my pants. Like the rest of me, my manhood was long, slim and dark. Beatrice grabbed it and stroked it, and then, winking at me, she pressed it against her pussy. Holding my breath, I pushed my dick into Beatrice's pussy.

"You like that, eh?" I said, and Beatrice nodded, wrapping her arms around me as we fucked on top of a dirty table in the basement. I thrust into her, loving the feel of her tight pussy around my dick. Making love face to face is fun, but doing it doggy style is my favorite thing in the world. A few minutes later, I put Beatrice on all fours, and admired her thick White ass.

"Kiss my ass," Beatrice said, giggling and I did just that. Folks, I'm really into ass worship, and Beatrice's got one of the nicest asses I've ever seen. I licked her butthole and fingered her pussy from behind, and then resumed fucking her. The sight of Beatrice's big White booty bouncing as I fucked her from behind thrilled me like you would not believe.

Making love to a woman is very different from sexing a hunky guy, but I definitely relish both experiences. I fucked Beatrice with gusto, and didn't let up until I came, a good half an hour later. Beatrice is a real screamer and even though the Loblaw's basement was deserted at this time of night, I worried we might get caught. That added a bit of a thrill to the whole experience, and I loved it.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Beatrice said, smiling wickedly as she readjusted her green work-shirt and Black pants, a while later. I smiled and nodded, and then we went back upstairs. It amazes me sometimes, the differences between ordinary mortals and myself. Beatrice and I reeked of sex, but none of our co-workers sensed anything out of the ordinary as we came back from our break.

Beatrice Tremblay was a breath of fresh air, in more ways than one. Those six months we were seeing each other were among the best of my life. One day, out of the blue, Beatrice told me she was returning to her family in Montreal, and that was it for our relationship. Easy come, easy go, I guess. Part of misses her dearly, though.

"Bilal, are you alright?" said Suleiman's voice, snapping me out of a pleasant trip down memory lane. I looked at my buddy and smiled. Ten minutes later, we pulled up into the driveway of a large townhouse in the Hazeldean area of Kanata. We exited the vehicle, and walked to the door. I should have felt nervous but inside, I felt only boredom. The doors swung open as we reached the front porch.

"Salam, bro, welcome inside," said a tall, dark-haired South Asian dude as he smiled and extended his hand toward me, and kissed Suleiman on the cheek. I was thusly introduced to Malik Singh, a Pakistani guy with a fondness for chocolate, not the type you find in stores. We went in, and Kanye West's "Amazing" blasted over the speakers and I saw lots of young guys getting their groove on.

"Nice place," I said to Malik and he smiled, and handed me a glass of wine. We were standing near the living room, and I saw fit, masculine bodies of all hues dancing, hugging and kissing. Everywhere I looked, there were lots of guys. As soon as we arrived, Suleiman did what he usually does. He disappears on me because he's in search of new dick, and I am stuck with a creep. A cute creep, in Malik's case.

"Thank you Bilal, my, you're looking good tonight," Malik said, smiling at me and licking his lips suggestively. With a werewolf's enhanced senses, I sensed alcohol and at least three kinds of drugs in his system. This dude was also horny as fuck. No need to be a genius to figure out where this was going. Malik is tall and fit, with dark bronze skin, and kind of looks like Sanjay Gupta, that cute doctor on CNN.

"Right back at you," I said, as I got closer to Malik, deliberately violating his personal space. Malik winked at me, and just like that, we went upstairs. Once we got to Malik's room, we didn't do a lot of talking. That's one thing I love about male/male encounters. Guys don't bullshit half as much as women do. Even when a woman wants the dick, she has to put on airs.

"You're a beautiful man," Malik said as I took off my clothes in front of him. Lying on the bed, stark naked, with his erect dick in his hands, Malik looked really good. Smiling confidently, I joined him on the bed. I hadn't done it with another guy in a while, and wanted to make up for lost time. Let's hope our South Asian friend can keep with me.

"Taste it," I said to Malik, as he grabbed my dick in his hands and kissed me. Smiling, Malik took my dick into his mouth and sucked on it greedily. Dude even massaged my balls while sucking me off. Soon I was hard as hell. Grabbing a condom, I rolled it on my dick while Malik got on all fours.

"Tear that ass up, habibi," Malik said, and I grinned and got behind him. I eased my dick into Malik's ass, and began fucking him. The sexy Pakistani dude had a tight ass, and I for one really like that in a man. I fucked Malik real good, burying my dick deep into his ass. Malik screamed like a madman as I topped him, and it didn't take me long to cum. Seriously, the dude's ass was that tight.

"You are something else," I said, a few moments later, as I stroked Malik's hard dick, and watched as he came in my hand. Malik looked at me, smiled and sighed happily. I wanted to fuck some more, but Malik was spent. Side effect of being a mere mortal, I guess. As a werewolf, even in my human form, I have levels of stamina you people can only dream of.

"Stay for a drink," Malik said, and I smiled and shook my head, and waved at him as I exited his bedroom. All around me, the house reeked of sex. I walked down the hall, headed for the washroom, and saw three guys doing it. A Black dude who looked Somali or Ethiopian was fucking some Arab guy while a South Asian dude sucked the Arab guy's dick. Shaking my head, I headed downstairs.

I couldn't find another washroom in the whole apartment, and I went outside, in the dark, to take a piss. Kanata is a fancy area that's slowly becoming more racially diverse, and I'm honestly surprised that Malik's presumably uptight White neighbors hadn't called the By-Laws to complain about the noise. Shoot, you could hear it a block away. Maybe Malik's got good neighbors.

I went to the backyard, and looked around. Seeing nobody, I took my dick out and pissed on the grass. I stood in the dark, peacefully smoking a cigarette when I sensed someone nearby. I whirled around, and saw a tall, pale-skinned silhouette. A tall, alabaster-skinned and dark-haired young man approached me. I hadn't seen him when I walked into Malik's place. Where did he come from?

"As salam alaikum, brother, got another cigarette?" The young man asked, and I hesitated then pulled a cigarette out of my pack and handed it to him. The dude took it, nodded his thanks and then lit it up. In the dark, his eyes seemed to glow, and he took a drag on the cigarette then looked at me curiously. I looked him up and down.

"Who are you?" I asked, and the young man smiled and introduced himself as Mehmet Melen, from Turkey. Hmm, I thought he was White but whatever. For some reason, this dude made me nervous. No, not like that. I've seen hot guys of all hues before, and while I do notice them, they don't faze me. Nope, this dude's presence bugged me for another reason altogether.

"Relax, brother, I'm just chilling with the sheep, same as you," Mehmet said, and he looked at me intensely. For a moment, his eyes glowed, and it was definitely not a trick of the light. I sniffed the air, and at once I realized what I'd been sensing. This dude was...like me. A werewolf. One of my kind. I did not see that one coming, that's for damn sure.

"You're like me," I said, and Mehmet nodded, and smiled at me. Folks, I was definitely in shock. You see, I know that other werewolves exist, but I honestly have never knowingly met one. My parents were werewolves, that's why I exist, but if I were to be honest, I'd say that I am completely cut off from the rest of the werewolf community.

"Yeah, let's take a walk, brother, I guess we got some stuff to talk about," Mehmet suggested, and I nodded. We left the backyard, and walked around the block. Overhead, a half-moon glowed, bathing us in its eerie light. It takes a full moon to trigger the transformation in our kind, so Mehmet and I were safe. For the moment, at least.

"Fancy meeting one of our kind at a queer house party," I said to Mehmet, as we walked down Hazeldean road together. We passed by a restaurant, and continued walking through the eerily quiet little hamlet. A lot of folks in Ottawa like Kanata for its affluence and quietness, but the place has always given me the creeps, especially at night.

"I'm new to Ottawa, I moved here from Ankara, Turkey, and I'm going to Carleton University, and like you, I'm gay and a werewolf," Mehmet said, smiling faintly. The dude was standing very close to me. Closer than I'd like, in fact. I haven't spent a lot of time around my own kind, unless you count my parents, whom I barely remember. Doesn't surprise me that we're both passionate and impulsive, though.

Samuelx
Samuelx
2,123 Followers
12