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Tuesday, October 9, 2018



Why Do You Fight?

A story written for Big Brother

By E. John Evans

(All rights reserved. Please do not redistribute in any form without express permission.)


Matt was riding along a bumpy dusty road heading out into the high desert of New Mexico. He had come here in his off time to train. His Sire, Elder, as well as a few others had kept him busy with training and learning new skills as he grew from a cub into a Bear. This trip was to learn tracking from a Pueblo Elder and a style of combat that was simple, yet brutal from the Apache Elder. This trip was deeply troubling to Matt. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to run away. Something was pulling at him to Not Be Here. Something in the world was off, but he could just not place it, could not decider the code that was running through his head like a never ending ticker tape. Stuffing that in the back of his mind, be sat and thumbed through one of his journal books. This particular journal had been written before Matt departed the military. Contained on the pages were some of his times abroad, with all the gory, ugly details. He flashed back to a few of the moments, but the way it was written was not quite how he was remembering it. Matt thought the difference was due to his more acute perception since becoming a Werecreature. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, he noticed there was no reception. This was a bit odd since he carried a Global SAT Phone. Then it hit him, he had passed over some type of barrier. The air was cleaner, the sky suddenly clear, and the sounds different. He was in the different land. This was a place similar to the Hunting Grounds, however this was where you faced your fears and were either crippled by them, or made whole by them. In either case, he turned off the phone, took off his watch, and removed his phone ear piece. It was time to release all attachment and see what the Elders were going to teach him.






The truck lumbered to a halt as the sun dipped below the horizon and the night started to take over the land. Standing Matt took stock of where he was. Miles from anywhere, in the company of brothers, he was safe. The first thing he noticed was many were in full or partial forms, another benefit of being among kindred souls. Jumping out he was welcomed heartily and ushered into a small meeting space where a meager meal had been prepared. Entering, he paid his respects to the Elder and ate until he was about to pop. Many drinks and laughs later, he was shown to his very primitive hut. It was just what Matt liked. In short order he had laid out his bed roll, stripped out of all his cloths, weapons and gear. Laying down and shifting into his full bear form, for added warmth against the cooling desert night, and drifted into the void peacefully.

In the void, Matt was embraced by something cold. It tingled his fingers and crept over his whole body. The cold was not painful anymore, it was a comfortable, and familiar embrace. The feeling of a well worn shirt, an old pair of sneakers, the familiar grip of his weapon. Matt floated in the void, somewhere between the darkness of dreams and light of the day. Slowly the dark faded and light surround him, waking him gently.

As time progressed he fell right into a simple routine of training, helping the women and old ones prepare meals, hunting, and generally being Matt. He always helps were he can, tries to look out for anyone around him. The older females that would prepare the meals started calling him ‘Paayoo a Hoonaw’, or Bear of Three. Matt was still wondering why the ‘three’, but he just passed it off and hugged them every time he was able. In this village he learned tracking and spirit walking with the other animal spirits. It reminded him greatly of working with his mother and in some ways it felt right and perfect in his mind. As Matt often does he picked up the skills in no time and was rewarded with a new tattoo, given to him in the old way. A ceremony was prepared, drink passed around and foods shared. There was dancing and chanting, most of which Matt was struggling to understand. He had a basic understanding of Native American Languages, but it was childlike at best. Later that night the branding began. With barb, ink, and pain, a message to all was etched into Matt's flesh and bone. Many hours of laying bound by his hands and feet, stretched to make the skin of his back supper tight it was done. Matt now had wings that centered on a staff of truth, that spanned his shoulders and descended to the top of his furry nub of a tail. More drink was passed and Matt soon found himself in a dreamlike stupor, being led out of the village, not really able to resist, not overly caring what was happening. A few steps later his vision faded to blackness and the sounds of footsteps faded into the beating of his own heart, then nothing but blackness.




— Waking up some time later, the sun high in the sky, with only his backpack and blades.—




Matt sat up and reached for his pack, most of the contents were still there, all that is expect his weapons, electronics, water, food, and his journal book. Inside Matt panicked. Not that he could not survive without the items, but the journal book was irreplaceable. Looking around, nothing was recognizable. How long had he been asleep? Where was he? Why was he left with no food or water? Was this part of the training? After sitting in that spot for a few minutes, collecting himself he started to look around him and process his environment. From the looks of things, he had been dropped here; literally from the air. No doubt someone at the last camp was Avian. Matt chuckled to himself as he made the connection.

To the West, there was only one trail leading away from this area, so the little Bear started walking. After a while he found some water and nibbled on some other seed plants he found along the way. His mood lifting as he walked. His guard was down, he was learning to be in the moment. To just Be, instead of always processing what was about to happen. Staying on the trail it eventually led to a rock face at the base of a bluff. From the approach he thought he could have made out some huts or pueblo type structures toward the middle and top of the bluff. With no better option, Matt started climbing.

After a time, he made it to the first landing. Delightfully surprised; he found the start to a very remote tribe of were-creatures. Eclectic for sure, but non the less living simply and honestly off the land and with no connection to the outside world. In a way Matt envied them greatly. Wandering through he was greeted and shown to a hut where me met the Elder and several others that were training. Two he remembered from the previous camp, two he didn’t. This meeting was starkly different from the last. The Elder regarded each of them with disgust and guile. In the best he could make out if the broken English - Apache, was that they were to each be tested tomorrow and the training would be tailored from there. He picked Matt to be first in the morning. Then he walked away, leaving them to themselves, to prepare.

In the morning, Matt woke confident and at peace. He was sure he would do well today and that this would be just as easy as the rest of the places and skills he had learned. Picking up his blades and getting dressed he returned to the same meeting spot as last night. The stones were removed, and now the area looked like a ring, with stone walls, roughly 20 meters long and about 15 meters wide. The elder stood and looked at Matt, then motioned him to the center of the area when he held a short spear in one hand and a knife in the other.

The Elder was the first to move. Like lighting! Before the little Bear could even register the movement, Matt was struck through his shoulder by the small arrow head tipped spear. Reacting Matt turned and sliced empty air as the Elder had already moved out of range. Growling and looking at him, trying to process what was happening. Why had this gotten so physical so fast? Did Matt provoke this, or was this part of the training? How was the elder moving like that? Readying himself, he watch the Elder pull out a long blade and Tomahawk from his waist strap. Growling a little louder, Matt reached up and snapped off the small spear still in his shoulder, and took a defensive stance. I have to learn how this is happening, wait..don't attack just yet. Thought Matt as took a half step backward, and reversed the blade in his right hand. Matt was fighting with his favorite weapons, twin short swords. His own design. The handles were a bit wider and longer than most and fit Matt natural fighting style. The blades could also be joined in the middle and extended to made a double bladed short staff.

A flash of movement as the elder buried his blade into Matt gut, ripped it sideways and clubbed Matt across the face with the blunt side of the Tomahawk. Dazed and spinning as he landed on the ground with a dull wet thud. Looking up helpless as the elder spoke. In a broken English/Apache “Who do you Love?” Trying to process the question, his vision faded to black as the void took him, as an ever widening pool of blood formed around him.

Floating in the void, the question filtered through his mind, until he woke slowly. Waking up back on his rock slab, in his sleeping cave, bandaged around his middle and across his shoulder. Sitting up and putting his feet on the floor he realized his boots were gone, along with his shirt and jacket. “What the Fuck” Matt screamed and growled. Then looking up he noticed a small piece of paper stuck under a rock. It was a torn page from his journal that he had brought with him. On the page was a confession of his love for Luke and recounting a time where Matt had considered suicide. Thoughts of ending it all were really nothing out of the ordinary for military members, doing what Matt did. You can’t see and do that much bad without it being damaging on some level. There were times that Matt did question why he survived when others didn’t? Why a group attacked them or why he was protecting a certain few when so many were being killed in collateral damage. It was maddening at times. Crumbling the paper into a ball, crushing it tightly into his hand, the memories of that moment washed over him, with great sadness and guttural force.

Matt was on the porch of their home in Texas. Sitting in the porch swing that hung from the porch rafters, rocking slowly, looking out over the vast acreage that was Luke’s family ranch. The wind was blowing steadily and easily from the East as the sun dipped down behind the very large three story home, casting a long shadow on the ground. Sitting there, on the swing watching the shadows move, he remembered the last 9 days. Sounds and images came in frightening clarity as he listened in his mind to the radio traffic, the sounding of the alarms, then the firefight that had erupted, and the teams escape. This trip Matt was part of a larger security detail. Things had gone horribly wrong. The intel not adequate. A perfect storm of bad events. In short order the team was cut off from each other. Then Matt had snapped, something inside of him rose to the surface and took over. It was like a cold fluid had been poured into his body, taking away all fear, anxiety, compassion, or remorse. The world seemed to slow down slightly, like he was moving faster than everything else around him. He protected his team and the visitors he was tasked with. He did bad things, evil things, he turned into a monster that day. All had escaped with there lives intact, some with minor injuries, but alive. Through the encounter had Matt enjoyed it. He actually enjoyed the destruction he was delivering. It empowered him. He had sent the team ahead, while he covered their escape and joined them soon after. Pushing the team forward, doubling back to cover the retreat. The process repeated with frightening precision. When he ran out of ammunition he used weapons from the dead. When those ran out he used his blades, when those broke he used his hands. Like a drug it tainted his being, raped his soul of all goodness, honor, and compassion. He fought without regard for his own safety, and in so, returned scared, both inside and out. Alive; but broken.

So there Matt sat, with his service weapon on his lap, a single round in the chamber, clicking the safety on and off. Click, thunk. Thunk, click. Click, thunk. The motion and sound repeated without regard to time or space. At some point in Matt sitting there, Luke arrived home from work and found him. Knowing enough to approach gently, he slid the sliding glass door open, stepping out and closing it gently behind him. Seeing what Matt had on lap, he did not question it, and sat gently beside his mate, lover, and friend. After a few minutes of quiet swinging, watching the day become night, Matt was the first to speak.

“Luke, am I a bad person?”

“No, Matt, you aren’t.”

“Well, after this trip I feel like a monster.”

“You're not a monster. You do what you have to, but you're not a monster.”

“Well, what if I told you innocents died so the team could come back?”

“I would say you must not have had a choice.”

They sat in silence. Quietly swinging, just being with one another. It was Luke that would break the silence this time.

“Honey, why do you have your weapon on your lap?”

“It's there for when I make a decision.”

“If the decision is to kill yourself because you think you’re a monster, then so be it. I have never really been able to stop you; but know this. You are the reason I go to work each day. Working to make us a better future. You do the same thing. You fly off to god knows where to make the world a better place. I could not work on a global scale unless you did what you are doing, so if you kill yourself, you are killing the future for me, the children, and their children. Above all else know that I love you, No matter what shape our are in, No matter what you have to do. You come back. Understand that I love you, regardless of anything. I love you with eyes wide open.”

More sitting quietly in the swing as time passed. The day became dusk and then night. A cool breeze had started to blow in and storm clouds were off in the distance coming closer. Matt spoke first.

“I have to leave again in the morning.”

“Then you better bring our ass back alive and in once piece. When you get back I will keep the nightmares at bay. I will make sure we live in a place where you will not be threatened, with space to call your own. I will make those dreams come true. I need you to come back alive. Do You Hear me?”

“I hear you. Thank you. You know my love for you is why I keep doing this?”

“I know… just come back. I will put the pieces back together.”

Lost in thought. Matt did not notice that someone was at the entrance to his cave. Turning with a jump he noticed it was one of the other fighters that was training with this Elder. The young Elk motioned for Matt to follow. Leaving the cave, he followed the very young Elk in half form to the meeting circle. There were several rocks sitting around a central open pit fire. Food were being prepared by two female Bison. Matt found a rock and sat down. When Matt was settled and foods passed to him, the elder stood and spoke to them. He asked each of the warriors various questions and explained to them why he had asked it. Matt noticed right away that none of the warriors were without some kind of bandage or injury. The last to be asked, Matt was a little startled when the Elder all but yelled at Matt to answer him. Fumbling with his words he spoke.

“I love Luke, my Mate.”

“Why”

“He doesn't judge me for committing the greatest sin of humans or were creatures. “

“What sin is that?”

“Killing another and enjoying it even though the killing may be justified.”

“He does not judge you for anything then?”

“Judgment is NOT accountability. I mess up stuff all the time. The love we have doesn’t excuse the mistakes, it lets us understand them and move forward, because leaving each other is not an option. I love him the same way. Is there a problem with my answer?” Matt glared at the Elder, his own emotions getting the best of him.

The Elder just looked at Matt with those piercing green/blue eyes, then dismissed everyone with a warning. The warning was to rest and contemplate the training that would follow in the coming days, because this first day had only been a small test of skills.

In the coming weeks, the passing of time was marked by pain. Matt was tested and trained in various forms of combat. He learned but it was slow. His normal ability to learn seemed to be cut off or stopped. Painfully, Matt did learn control, timing, patience, and cunning. Each day was a different test, some were puzzles that he needed to solve to get food and water. Others were combat tests were he would have to best another fighter to proceed on. The small Moon Bear did learn, and in time all his trials were completed and he stood before the Elder again.

This time the questions were rapid fire. The Elder would ask and attack. Once Matt had defended against the attack or dealt a blow to the elder another question was asked. The barrage continued for an eternity. Slowly, Matt was letting go of himself. He was beginning to understand that emotions were not the path to his inner strength. He just needed to find his trigger, his way of accessing the endless flow of energy that coursed through every fiber of his being. Matt had been beat down his entire life, used, abused, and then abandoned. Luke had been the first to save Matt from himself, now that bond seemed to be a HUGE topic of contention with this Elder. Through all the questions, Matt kept asking why. Why was Luke so important to this Elder? Did the Elder know something? What was it?

The Sky darkened and the wind picked up as the questions came in a more direct painful manner. The elder would sink his blade into Matt then ask his questions, not letting Matt free until he was satisfied with the answer. “How can you Kill without remorse?” Screamed the Elder with the blade plunged through Matt shoulder from the rear. The Bear was held on his tiptoes as the blade was twisting slowly. Gasping in pain, screaming his reply, “There is always pain, I carry the scars of every person I have had to kill. I never forget” Yanking the blade free of Matt, the elder kicked him to the ground, sliding him a few feet away, and egged him back into he fight.

A few exchanges later, Matt was on his knees, cut from his neck to his groin, the elders antler-hilted blade buried in his guts. “For Whom do you fight?” Growled the elder inches from Matt face. Gasping, panting, almost begging for death Matt muttered, “For Luke.” Grunting, the elder pulled the Blade free and kneed Matt in the face. The little Bear was losing lots of blood. He had to force his shift into his half form so his body would heal. When Matt shifted, something was different, something had changed. Static lit the ground all around Matt as his shift was slow and pronounced. Lighting built int he sky as the wind started a chilly circle around them. Nature was pulling itself to Matt as if by gravity. The static intensified into a loud crack, as several bolts of electricity arched from Matt to nearby onlookers. As Matt stirred from the spot he had been slid to. His paws stretched as his head came up, glaring at the elder. Eyes, glowing a bright blue, he stood, all paused to take notice, even the Elder took a cautious few steps backward. His coat was silver, long guard hairs covered his neck and back. Small stripes of back formed at his eyes and extended down his chest. Cloths falling away, the Bear stretched and flexed his body, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

Then Matt roared. The sound came from some other place, some other being. The roar was long, loud, not common to a Bear, but more akin to a Lion or Wolf. Then it happened. The static charges stopped and all emotion departed from Matt. Something else took its place. Matt had healed himself, but in the shift, something fell into place. His breathing was normal, he was relaxed, finally at peace. At peace with himself and his Mate. His love for Luke and the bond they shared helped him attain inner peace. The one constant in an ever changing world, was their love for each other.

The exchanges that followed were more on Matt terms, as he started to counter the Elder more and more as the fight went on. He had learned well from the pain. The pain had taught his mind and trained his body. He would counter the Elder and throw him away from him. Almost as you would taunt a cub into a fight. Matt was done with this questioning and this form of learning combat. He would not be cut again. At a deadlock of blades, the elder asked his last question, “Why is Luke the center of your World?”. Roaring again and using every ounce of his strength, he shoved the elder backward against the rock walls that surrounded them, shattering the Elders blade, and slamming the Elk hard enough to crack the wall, several of the Elders ribs, and startling many of the onlookers. Matt dropped his blades and spoke to the Elder, “He’s my world, because he saved me from the pit of despair, self doubt, and regret. He is my opposite and my equal. Although I subjugate myself to him in manner, it is my choice to do so. That choice cannot be forced or coerced. He is the center, because he is. Nothing more, nothing less. I WILL NOT continue this fight.” After standing for a few seconds, the Elder turned and walked away from Matt. The daylong lesson of pain was over. Looking down at his paws he noticed his fur was much more gray than he remembered.

Matt collapsed to his knees, then to all fours and he panted. Letting the exhalation of the end of the training wash over him. He thought of Luke. He held the image of the man in his mind, holding onto the good times, all the love they had. After he recovered, Matt reverted back to human form, slowly collected his blades and made his way out of the arena. Turning he looked back at the small space, blood was everywhere, drying in the sun. This place was were you came to find your center, your purpose. Matt had found his, now it was up to him to take these lessons and move forward in life.

Later in the day after Matt had washed himself, he returned to his cave. In the cleansing, communal bath, he washed away the dried blood, the dirt, and the shame. He cleaned his body in the warm water as his soul was cleansed in the burning kiln of combat. Inside the cave, he found all of his gear was returned. Matt reached for the journal book and opened it. The page that had been removed had been replaced, the page showing the signs of crumpling and the tape fresh. Matt hugged the book to his chest and sighed, “Thank you Luke, I love you. You are my everything and nothing. You are by equal and opposite. You are the reason I fight so hard. The reason I push to be a better person. I have to protect you, make sure you are always safe, just like you always took care of me.“ Matt laid down on his bed roll and fell fast asleep. Dreams of Luke came then, way back to when they first met and the instant attraction to the man. The way he smiled, the way he smelled, that devilish laugh. The way he kept the dreams at bay when they slept. A gentle touch that was enough to silence the demons and doubts.

Matt awoke some time later. The moon was high in the sky and most had gone to bed. Wandering through the village, he stopped at a few fires to warm his hands. A few men congratulated him on his test that day. Thanking them, Matt kept moving slowly through the camp. He found the Elder sitting by a fire pit, beside a small hut. There he sat with the Elder and the two chatted as equals and comrades. The spoke to each other with eyes unclouded. Broken Hoof was now a friend and someone Matt could depend on.

Matt would come to spend much time with Broken Hoof over the next lifetime, but that’s a topic for a different story.


—To Be Continued—

Monday, October 8, 2018

Papa Werebear and I would like to introduce you to a new writer (new here anyway, though he's been writing for a while), our friend John Evans.  He goes by E. John Evans when he writes, and describes himself as "an old veteran with a few stories to tell".  He is WAY too modest, imho.  The story that we are opening with is the first part of a longer story, the second part of which will appear next week.  You will find them a bit different than ours, even though they involve shape-shifters, and specifically, werebears.  There is a depth of spirituality that I think you will find involving.  We hope you enjoy them!

Saturday, October 6, 2018

                          Do It Again
(to the tune of "Do It Again", by Steely Dan)

Now you swear and kick and beg us,
That you're not a 'bating man.
Then we find you back at home,
With your handle in your hand.
Those vids can make you money,
So you post them when you're able.
In the land of web-based porn,
You're just one horse in the stable.
You go back and jack
Do it again,
Fist pumpin' up and down;
You go back, Jack, and do it again..

Monday, October 1, 2018

Caught!
By Papa Werebear and Ursus Major
Special thanks to hydrocub1997 for his inspirational idea!

Copyright 2018 All rights reserved. Please do not distribute or repost without our express permission.


I got his wallet! Oh my fucking GOD, I fucking can’t believe it! Took it right off the belt, chain and all! Of course the almost half bottle of Tennessee whiskey he drank probably helped, I don’t think he is as aware as he… Oh shit! He’s looking for it, I’m out,” Owen thought as he headed for the door, trying to look as calm as possible.

He’d just had time to slip the long, well-worn leather wallet and chain into the deep inner pockets of his black leather trench coat as he hit the door. But one of the biker’s buddies managed to see him do it, and now there were angry shouts inside the bar. Nutz ‘n’ Boltz, the Bear biker/leather bar, was a rough and slightly seedy little place on the outskirts of a rundown residential area that bordered the industrial/warehouse district, not far from where the cargo ships unloaded.

Owen had grown up poor in this neighborhood, and as a result had developed a few bad habits; picking pockets being one of them. But that was in the past, he’d straightened out his life, got a good job at the docks that paid well enough that he could move away to a bit nicer area; but he was still drawn to this place.

Owen wasn’t interested in the money in the wallet, though it wasn’t as if he were rolling in cash, even with his improved situation. No, in fact all he wanted was to find out who the hot leather Daddy Bear was, but he didn’t have the nerve to approach him.

If he was truthful with himself, he would have to admit that he’d been stalking this guy for weeks now, ever since his first encounter at Nutz ‘n’ Boltz. Something about him had occupied all of his thoughts, and he couldn’t get him out of his head. The smell of him was the first thing that had drawn his attention. When he’d passed the biker as he was going into the dank men’s room; over that wall of scent, that reeking of piss, he could still smell him, and it sent an instant shock of pleasure to his groin followed by a raging stiffy.

It was more than the intoxicating whiff of leather, pipe, and cigar. It was more than the slightly spicy scent of whatever beard oil the Bear had put in his long, braided, grey beard. It was something else… it was HIS smell.
It wasn’t as if there wasn’t a festival of good smelling men in Nutz ‘n’ Boltz, and truthfully some not so good smelling ones too; but even among his musky biker buddies, HE stood out.

He wasn’t handsome. In fact, he looked like he’d had his face rearranged a couple of times with someone’s fists if the scars across the bridge of his nose, upper cheek and forehead were any clue. Still, there was a brutish majesty about him… after all, what real king hadn’t fought for his kingdom and come away with proof of those battles?

He was somewhat squat, and heavily muscled, but it was not ‘pretty muscle’. It was not perfectly proportioned, well balanced, gym refined, muscle. This was muscle earned through hard laborious living. He was covered in tattoos, some expensive, colorful, beautifully rendered artistic pieces, and some looked like they were prison grade, almost childish work. Had his fur been as dark as it had been in his youth (as Owen guessed it had once been by the few remaining black hairs in his beard and hair), the dark fur would have almost completely obscured the work. Even now, it was hard to see the designs through all the white hair. Oh Gods, but that silver pelt was luxurious! It covered him from the neck down; at least that was what Owen supposed from what little was revealed on his thick arms, and chest by the black Harley tank top, and leather vest. Every time the biker daddy would pull one of his riding buddies over, with his firm round belly pressed to his buddy’s own belly for a deep kiss, Owen longed to be the man he was kissing.

As he ran down the alleys, looking very much like a shorter, skinnier version of Morpheus in The Matrix, the sound of bikes firing up filled Owen with cold fear. He wondered why he’d been so impulsive, why he’d taken the chance. It was insane! He hadn’t flirted with danger like this in more than a decade, but the fear that coursed through him, fueling his adrenaline, and the thought of what those beasts might do to him if they caught him was… truthfully… exhilarating.

Owen could hear the motorcycles moving toward him, but having grown up around here, and having evaded pursuit from the victims of his thefts before, he knew all the shortcuts and hiding places. In fact, he wasn’t far from a boarded up abandoned place he’d used several times in the past. The place was occasionally a crack house, and had been for the last twenty years; but the cops had cleared it recently. But it wasn’t the house he was interested in. Years ago he’d discovered that the property had a fallout shelter, built for the house back in the mid ‘50s. No one but he, to his knowledge, had discovered it.

As he ran, he could hear the sound of the motorcycles moving further away from him, to the Northeast if his sense of direction was working properly, and he was maybe a block away from his hideout. A few minutes later he’d found the abandoned house he’d been searching for. The yard in back was overgrown, and in the darkness he made his way through the broken side gate partially obscured by an overgrown tree, and around the darkened husk that was once a family home. He heard noises inside, and assumed that those the cops had chased out a few nights before were back. Quietly, he found his way around some trash barrels, back behind some more wild volunteer trees of the kind that tend to spring up in abandon yards, to a small cinder block garage.

The half-moon coming out from behind the clouds provided enough light through a huge hole in the rusted, corrugated sheet metal roof for Owen to see. In the corner, hidden by years of dirt and a makeshift table made from an old electrical wire spool, which Owen himself had placed over it to conceal it, was the hatch to the fallout shelter he’d found as a teen. Quietly, he moved the spool out of the way, and after brushing away some of the dirt, found the handle to the hatch.

To his surprise, it moved without the screeching sound of rusted metal. He entered silently, closing the hatch door behind him. Removing a lighter from his pocket, he lit it to see. It was dead quiet down here, truly silent; and as cold as you might expect from a room at the same level as the bottom of a grave. To his right, where he’d left them in a small cupboard, were a half dozen pillar type candles, a small hurricane lantern, and a glass bottle filled with kerosene. Taking an unused candle he lit it, and moved to the door to the shelter. The heavy metal door was unlocked as it had been the last day he’d been here. It did not move without some noise, but it was faint enough that he suspected no one could hear from the other side of the hatch door, it coming from this far underground.

Inside, all was as he’d left it. The seals around both the hatch door and the metal door he’d just opened had kept the place dust and vermin free. It was a five room shelter; three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a supply room which had long ago been emptied, presumably by its owner. There were bathrooms, but they were basically closets attached to the bedrooms with outhouse, dirt-hole toilets in them, and a wash stand with a drain that fed into the hole into which the shit fell.

Owen figured he’d lay low while the bikers stormed about looking for him like he’d done back when he’d been running from one of the guys whose pocket he'd picked. By morning, he’d be able to go back home. He’d mail the wallet back to its owner, with all its contents. After all, Owen really didn’t want to keep it. In the meantime, it was time to sit, and look over the wallet he’d taken, and find out just who the hot beast it belonged to was.
He found a few more of the lanterns he’d left, filled them with the lamp oil, and lit them. He then sat on the stool at the small card table he’d brought down here years ago along with the cot and a few other simple furnishings. He pulled the wallet from his pocket, and opened it.
In the cool air, he was greeted with the scents of leather, tobacco smoke, and as he put his nose to the folded out item, its owner’s musk. The mingled scents were pure arousal for Owen, and he felt his hard cock straining against his jeans.

The first compartment, because old habits die hard, was the cash. He took the money out, and counted out $578.00, then put it back in the wallet. With the money there was an expired coupon for a free lube job for a motorcycle at ‘Lube, and Groove’ which brought a smile to Owen’s face. It was a local shop that serviced all sorts of vehicles, but specialized in motorcycles. Their radio commercials were hilarious and walked right up to the line of pornographic, yet never crossed it; and so were very popular, bringing in a lot of business as a result. It was no surprise the wallet’s owner would patronize such a place.

He looked at the driver’s license next. The wallet belonged to Lyle Thomas Grissom and he noted from the classification that this guy could drive everything from a motorcycle to a semi-trailer truck. The scowl staring back at him from the DMV photo sent both a shiver of fear, and excitement down his spine. Owen imagined that few called this Bear of a man ‘Lyle’ unless it was in some sort of legal setting. Along with the license, there were credit cards, business cards from some places here in town, and some from out of state. Finally, he got to the photos. Owen found a couple with Lyle, and his buddies; one of which was taken with Devil’s Tower in the background which he assumed was taken on a Sturgis rally trip. Some of the men he recognized from the bar where he’d pilfered the wallet.

One picture in particular was most interesting to him, a picture of Lyle buck naked, and as he had imagined, the beast was covered head to toe in tattoos, and a thick silver pelt. However, what made this picture unusual was that he was standing with his arm around the waist of a grizzly bear, who was standing on his back legs. The grizzly, who was looking down at the beaming Lyle, had his huge left paw on Lyle’s head, which was bald except for the frame of hair around the sides and back in the typical male pattern. The photo was odd, too, in that both the bear and Lyle were fully erect.

The photo turned Owen on in ways he didn’t understand, and then he realized it was because he could almost sense that Lyle and this bear had been sexually intimate by the way the biker smiled. Owen took the photo from its plastic envelope with fevered, shaking hands. He quickly got up from the chair, leaving the wallet on the table, and lay down on the cot. He undid his belt and the front of his pants to free his erection. In the dim flickering light he held the photo in one hand while he stroked his hard cock, imagining that both the bear and the biker in the photo were here now, in this quiet place, fucking him, spit roasting him between their furry groins.

His hand moved faster over his rigid, straining cock, moving his foreskin back and forth over the bloated tip. His head spun with the images he conjured up, scenes of being used by both bear and man, alternately impaled on one cock or the other, being fucked on all fours, or flat on his back, or with his legs held wide apart. It didn’t take long for Owen to climax, and when he did, it was forceful and prolonged. He cried out in the purest of pleasure, loudly cursing as he blew his loads. He shot longer than he’d ever done in his life, and when the orgasmic trembles subsided, he was truly spent. The front of his black t-shirt, and curly dark beard were soaked in his own thick cum. Before drifting off, he set the picture on the stool he’d sat in, and settled into a comfortable sleep, dreaming of being enclosed front and back with thick, furry bellies and embraced by muscled arms and paws.


Sometime later, Owen couldn’t tell how long, he awoke to the smell of smoke. Suddenly aware that he’d left both a candle and a lantern burning on the card table he sat bolt up, and turned in the cot to stand, fearing that there was a fire down here in the shelter. What greeted him was not a room ablaze, but a huge paw of a hand, grabbing hold of his cum crusted beard, turning his head to meet its owner’s gaze.

Owen looked into the eyes of Lyle, and almost wet himself. The biker, sitting on the stool by the head of the cot, was puffing on a freshly lit, thick gauge cigar; grinning menacingly at Owen.
Well, thief, it looks like I caught you with your pants down; both figuratively, and literally!” Lyle growled in his deep bass, tightening his grip on the younger man’s beard, pulling him close to his face. Lyle drew deeply on his cigar, and blew a cloud of thick smoke in Owen’s face.
Owen coughed a bit, and sputtered out, “I’m so sorry. I… I… didn’t…”


Didn’t steal from me? We both know that’s a lie,” Lyle said, drawing more smoke in and blowing it out as he had just done a moment before.
No, I mean…,” he squeaked in his tenor, but Owen just couldn’t continue. He knew whatever he said next would sound like a lie, even if he told the absolute truth about why he’d taken the wallet.

Go on, tell me! And don’t lie,” Lyle purred, “I’ll know if you do. So let’s have it, all of it, or this little hidden chamber of yours will be your tomb, and I won’t even have to get violent about it. I could chain you up down here, and brick the entrance over, just like in that Poe story. You and I both know that no one but us knows about this place. Should anyone ever find you down here, you’ll be bones by the time they do.”
Lyle looked into Owen’s eyes intently and waited.

I don’t know why I stole your wallet, it was an impulse. It was like a fire in my head; an insanity. I knew as soon as I’d taken it that it was the stupidest, craziest, most desperate thing I’d ever done in my life. I don’t need the money, it wasn’t about the money. I had to know who you were. This is going to make me sound like a lunatic, like a stalker, but ever since I saw you at the bar, weeks ago, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I’ve thought about you more than I’ve ever thought about anyone… ever! I can’t get your face, your smell, your gestures, how you light your cigar, or how you walk out of my mind, Every night before I sleep I jerk off thinking about you fucking my ass or face or you curled up with me with those big furry arms holding me. Even now, with you in this position of power over me, no ESPECIALLY with you in this position of power over me, I’m rock hard, and ready to shoot at the slightest touch. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I’m obsessing over you, but I am. I didn’t want your wallet for anything more than to find out your name, and where you lived, and I swear I was going to mail it back, complete with all it held. That’s the absolute fucked up truth, so please, don’t kill me.” Owen was pleading by the end of his speech, his breath coming fast.

The biker considered him for a moment, and then growled out, “You expect me to believe that? You expect me to believe you stole my wallet because you were too chicken shit to just ask me out?”

Owen considered for a moment, and then shrugged, “It’s the truth,” he said simply.

Lyle took a deep draw on his cigar. He took it out of his mouth, pulled Owen’s face to his own by the beard and paused for several moments, looking into Owen’s eyes, searching his soul. He suddenly locked lips with him, feeding him his smoke as his tongue gingerly probed the young man’s mouth, their tongues intertwining, caressing each other. He released his hold on Owen’s beard, and gently wrapped his huge paw around the back of his head. This was the kiss Owen had seen in the bar between this brute animal and his buddies. This was the kiss he’d so very much longed for. The biker broke the kiss, placed the cigar in the left side of his mouth. Owen was breathless, no one in had ever kissed him so tenderly, so passionately, so gently. He exhaled the smoke he’d been fed, coughing a little as he did. Lyle tenderly brushed his pink sausage-like fingers against Owen’s smooth, soft, brown upper cheek, running the backs of those tatted digits down the young man’s thick, curly beard.

You’re a moth,” Lyle said flatly.

I’m… I’m a… what”? Owen asked.

A moth, you’re drawn to me, to my musk. Like a moth to a flame, and until I give you… something… until I make you mine, this will not stop. You cannot stop, and it will make you more and more obsessive. You’ll keep spiraling and obsessing, you’ll stop caring about anything other than me. I don’t say this out of conceit, it’s sort of…biological,” he said.

So… what? You’re some sort of drug I can’t do without?” Owen asked a bit incredulously.

Not exactly, but sort of. It’s rare, but it happens,” Lyle said with a deep sigh and a resigned smile, “I will explain later in more detail. For now, I think I need to take care of you.” Lyle took his cigar and put it in Owen’s mouth and smiled. “Puff, don’t inhale, at least not yet.”

Then he bent down and swallowed Owen’s long, thick, dark brown cock to the root, burying his beard in his dense pubes in one swift movement that caused Owen to gasp deeply, taking cigar smoke into his lungs, causing him to launch into a coughing fit. Lyle pulled off his cock and took the cigar from him, and waited for the coughing to subside, drawing on the cigar until Owen quieted.

Shall we try that again?” Lyle asked.

Owen nodded and Lyle gave him back the cigar.

After Lyle had finished, and Owen had climaxed for the third time, Lyle took the cigar and had a last drag on the nub of what was left, then ground it out on the floor. He told Owen to dress, and the pair had a talk; a long, detailed talk about why that, until he got from Lyle what he needed, he would become more obsessed with him. What was going to happen when Owen got what he needed, what changes the young man could expect as a result of that, and how Owen would be Lyle’s Cub, and what that meant for them both.

I want to see. I want to see what I'll...what YOU look like as a bear”, Owen said.

It's kinda cramped in here, son, and I'm a lot bigger as a bear… but here goes.” Lyle removed his clothing and began his change, bones cracking, muscle and sinew rearranging as he grew larger. His skull elongated, forming a bear muzzle. His hands, already large, became huge bear paws, the human fingernails becoming bear claws, almost black in color. His eyes changed from pale gray and became the deep chocolate brown flecked with gold that most bears had. Lyle was furry as a man, but as a bear his pelt grew thicker and more luxuriant in a rich brown, covering his entire body except for the pads on his fore and hind limbs. Owen noted that only his muzzle showed any gray, marking him as an older bear. His balls became more prominent and the tip of his bear cock slightly protruded from its now-enclosing sheath. Lyle growled.

Oh my fucking God, you are BEAUTIFUL!” Owen was stunned by the huge bear leaning forward and over him, bending at the shoulders, pressed down by the low ceiling of the shelter. “Can I... can I touch you?” Owen gulped.

Unable to speak in his full bear form, Lyle nodded. Owen stepped forward and gently stroked the thick bear fur and then did his best to hug the big bear, burying his head in the bear's chest, inhaling deeply of the pronounced musky scent. He felt that draw, deep within, that need to be joined to this bear. He reached down and stroked the tip of Lyle's cock, causing it to lengthen and expand, drooling all over the young man's hand. Owen raised his hand to his mouth and licked off the copious amount of precum which had already begun to run down his arm.

Damn!” he said as the taste went to his brain like an electric shock. Owen's entire body tingled. Desire exploded in him like a sun ignited. 

“Fuck me, please! I need you in me... now! Fuck me!”

Lyle shook his massive head slowly and pointed to his fully-extended cock and then put his paws together and slowly separated them, then patted Owen's butt and put his paws slowly back together and shook his head again. He began his change back to full human, and when that was complete, he put a hand on Owen's shoulder.

Son, I want you as much as you want me, maybe more. But I'd rip you apart in bear form. Time enough for bear fuckin’ later. But as I am now...” Lyle grinned and patted his impressively large, but still human sized cock. “We can do this, but you've got to have time to think, and think carefully about what it all means. I know you want this, you probably need this, just remember that there's no going back.”

Owen looked Lyle square in the eye. “Oh, I know what I want. I want you. I want this, I crave this… I crave you!” Lyle grinned.

Lyle's demonstration had left Owen hornier and more eager than ever. He reached down to Lyle’s cock and milked out more precum, eliciting a deep grunt from the biker. Owen licked the clear, honey-thick fluid from his hand as he had before and shuddered in pleasure. Lyle chuckled and said, “Hold your horses, son. If this is what you want, we’ll do it, I promise. I’ll move you into to my place, feed you up some. You're going to need more meat on those bones of yours... although that one is pretty meaty already!” Lye reached over and patted Owen's swollen crotch.

Owen helped Lyle dress and they left the fallout shelter as the sun was rising. They put everything back as it had been for years so the shelter would not be discovered. The dilapidated house was silent now and in passing it, Lyle ran his meaty hand along the peeling paint of the weathered wooden clapboard siding, giving a sigh as he pulled his hand away.

Lyle mounted his bike, and Owen sat behind. “I’m curious,” Owen asked as he put the spare helmet on, “how did you find me?”

Lyle pointed to the derelict building, “This was my parent’s house before I went away to prison. They lost it paying for a lawyer trying to get me off. It killed them. Everything they’d worked for gone and their only son, locked away for manslaughter. After the house was gone, they both worked and spent what they had, still trying to get me out. They died poor, alone, and without me to care for them in their old age. I won’t tell you it was self-defense or that the guy had it coming to him because that would be a self-serving lie. I was young and had a future, but I was stupid, and stronger than I realized. It was only manslaughter because it wasn’t premeditated and I didn’t use a weapon, and I probably would have been out sooner if I hadn’t complicated things while I was locked away.”

Lyle paused and looked over at Owen. “I am the way I am now because a particularly Bearish guard took pity on me, gave me what I want to give you. That helped me rise to the top inside and that gave me some space and peace so that I could work on getting things in order in my life, before they let me out. It also gave me the longevity I’d need to actually start over and have a life when I got out. Anyway, I didn’t know where you’d gone and I was about to get on the phone and start canceling credit cards, but since I was in the old neighborhood, I decided to drop by the old place, pay my respects to the parents who died deserving so much better from their son. I was sitting outside, about to light up that stogie you woke up to down in the shelter, when I caught your scent; you see, the flame is equally attracted to the moth… if you get my meaning.” Lyle patted Owen’s leg.

Owen smiled, “Seems like destiny, doesn’t it?”

Lyle stuffed a new cigar in his mouth and lit it up, “It sure does”. Lyle fired up his Hawg, and the pair rode toward Lyle’s house.


A tall, handsome, powerfully built, round bellied black man dressed in biker leathers with a thick curly dark braided beard down to his belly adjusted his leather skull cap as he took off his helmet, and hung it from the Harley he’d just parked in front of Nutz ‘n’ Boltz. His leather vest revealed brawny, muscular arms covered in thick curly dark fur which obscured his recent tattoos. He didn’t wear a shirt and in his jeans and chaps, he was more than intimidating. He counted the other scoots outside of the rough Bear bar and smiled. He lit up a fat cigar and growled to himself in a rich baritone voice, “Looks like the gang’s all here!”

He strode into the bar; walking up behind a squat, heavily muscled, sliver bearded, bald biker Bear. He was taller than the old Werebear who, when he stood up, only came up to his nipples. He wrapped his arms around him and growled around the cigar in his mouth, “How’s my Bear Daddy tonight?”

Lyle smiled and leaned back into Owen’s embrace. On his ring finger was a shiny, new gold band that matched the one Owen wore.

Just got off work, then? How are you liking the new job?” Lyle asked.

I fuckin’ love being a bouncer. You’d have loved seein’ me work tonight. I broke up a fight thirty minutes before the end of my shift; two posturing males trying to impress some bubblehead chick. It was like mating season or something. Anyway, the one guy was cool and left when I told him to, but the other one was one of those stuck up, entitled college shits. I made him nearly piss his pants when I told him he’d have to leave the club, and that he could do it with a virgin hole or he could go with my fist up his wrecked ass, because that’s where I was gonna put it if he didn’t. I didn’t think a white boy could get any whiter, but he did, then he tucked his tail between his legs and slunk out of the club. I think I’m liking this new, bigger, beastly me!” Owen said, and bent slightly to kiss the top of his husband’s bald head.

I know I am,” Lyle said, taking the cigar from his mate’s maw and stuffing it into his own.

How’s the work coming on your folk’s house”? Owen asked, taking his Daddy’s beer from the bar and finishing it off.

It’s our house,” Lyle said, patting Owen’s furry arm, “Jim and his guys are ahead of schedule, isn’t that right?” Lyle asked, rubbing the back of the biker standing next to him.

Your house will be ready by the end of the month, brother, and you can move in. The renovations to the underground playrooms will take a bit longer. We’ll help move you in, have a house warming party and all. Then you and ‘Beast’ here can begin your happily ever after.” Jim smiled and lifted his mug, “To the happy couple!” The other bikers echoed the toast and more drinks were ordered.

Owen smiled to himself as he watched a moth circling one of the light fixtures behind the bar landing on the globe surrounding the bulb, trying his best to get to the light. Beast bent down to kiss his Daddy properly; round belly to round belly, beard to beard, tight Bear hug, tongues happily wrestling with each other.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Another reprehensible rhyme




There was a old bear named Lancelot
Whom his neighbors all looked on askance a lot.
Whenever he'd pass
A presentable ass,
The front of his pants would advance a lot.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

A Message For Our Readers

The WritingBearsCave has a store (the link to it is on the right-hand side of the blog's home page).  We'd like to remind you that ALL profits from the store are donated to Animals Asia, a group based in Hong Kong that has worked tirelessly for over 20 years to eradicate the cruel and senseless practice of bear bile farming.  Just recently, Animals Asia signed an agreement with the government of Vietnam to close down bear bile farms in that country and relocate over 1000 captive bears to Animals Asia sanctuaries in Vietnam and China.  The story is here: A victory for bears

Please consider a purchase from the store to support Animals Asia's efforts.   Thanks!
UrsusMajr and Papa Werebear

Monday, April 10, 2017

Ghost Bear

Ghost Bear
by Hairy1

(This is a work of fiction, and no real persons or events are depicted. Safe sex practices are not depicted; but in real life, get tested and always play safe. If you have comments, please contact the author at ursuspilosus@yahoo.com)
(Copyright 2017, all rights reserved. No part may be reproduced electronically or otherwise without the author's express permission)
------
Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark heavy clouds which hid the full moon. Rain fell steadily from the sky, as freely as the tears now flowing down Roy's face. Thunder rolled over him, the bass boom barely noticed as sobs wracked his body. The curtain moved slightly as the moisture laden breeze wafted across him, bringing the sharp scent of ozone from the lightning as well as the fresh scent of the newly water laden lawn.
Those scents, however, meant nothing to Roy, whose grief had flared back to the forefront of his mind as he realized that the scent he needed, that he craved, was now gone forever, and by his own hand. It had been several weeks since the car accident had taken Jeff from him, what was supposed to be a simple errand after work tearing his soul in two. He had stood there on the deck at the grill, awaiting his partner's arrival before putting the steaks on, when he heard his cell phone ring, saw it was Jeff calling. “Probably forgot what it was he was picking up” he thought to himself with a small smile.
“Hey”
“Hello. To whom am I speaking?” replied a strange voice.
“Huh? Who is this, why are you using Jeff's phone?”
“Sir, who am I speaking to? Are you a relative of Jeffery Malloy?”
“This is Roy. Jeff is my husband. Who are you? Why are you on his phone?” replied Roy, getting irritated.
“Roy, I'm Officer Janet Diaz. I'm using the I.C.E. number on Mr. Malloy's phone. I'm sorry to inform you that ….” Things got blurry in Roy's memory after that. Officer Diaz telling him there had been an accident, asking him if he could come to the hospital. Arriving too late to even say good-bye or one last “I love you”. Identifying Jeff's body, going through the motions of funeral arrangements as if he was a robot. Sobbing as he held and was held by Jeff's parents, stunned at the loss of their son. The parade of their friends at the wake, offering condolences. The wall of pictures that Jeff's sister Beth had created for the wake, a Tree of his Life and Love. Jeff and Roy had been together 15 years, finally able to actually marry so recently, be recognized not just by family and friends for the couple they were but by the world, and it was all torn asunder, cut short. He gazed at their wedding picture, two big bearded men kissing like love struck teenagers, thinking that the passion of their wedding night wasn't much behind what it would have been if they had been teenagers. A few short weeks had gone by now, and he had been going through life automatically; meals kindly brought by friends at first, work a necessary distraction. He had finally brought himself to change the sheets on their bed, emptying the last of Jeff's clothes from the hamper and washing them, only to realize as he folded the last of them that all he smelled was the scent of the fabric softener, that the last of the scent of Jeff was gone now, the intoxicating aroma of the man he loved. Sure, he had the cologne Jeff had used, but the unique chemistry that happened when it was on Jeff, mixing with Jeff's own clean musky scent, it was gone. That last small conduit to his reality, to a life that wasn't empty, and he had freaking washed it down the drain.
As the realization set in, grief hit him like a brick wall. His vision darkened, his chest tightened, it was hard to breath, and the tears started. He tried to walk away, but fell to a knee instead, sobs taking him. How could he feel so empty yet so full of grief? His mind spun through all the recriminations, the thought of why he had let Jeff run to the store after work, yet knowing it wasn't unreasonable because Jeff had done so a thousand times. The thought of Jeff after the accident, blindsided by the drunk driver, in pain, with no one to comfort him, no one to hold him, no one to tell him it would all be alright, all alone. Roy felt he should have been there, even though he knew this was a nonsensical idea. He couldn't get past it though, couldn't and wouldn’t forgive himself.
The lightning had obviously struck something, as the lights flickered and went out. Roy didn't notice, or didn't care, there was no difference between the two anymore. Still on his knees, he leaned against the side of the bed, clutching Jeff's freshly laundered undergarments, lost in his own darkness and grief, adrift in his sorrow.
Eventually the rain stopped, though Roy's tears did not. The breeze had died away; the evening was quiet again, wrapping him in stillness and silence, leaving him to himself, a desolate spirit lost in the night. The storm outside passed, the clouds broke, and the full moon peered through the window, casting Roy in its’ cold light as the curtain billowed out momentarily.
Sagging back, resting his ass on his heels, bowed over the tear dampened briefs laying loose in his lap now, he didn't notice the teardrops freely falling from his face begin to dissipate midair, turning rapidly to mist and then disappearing. Didn't feel the sweat on his brow, heavy as he had been so worked up, rapidly do the same, barely registering the chill as that happened, the shudder hidden within his sobs.
What eventually registered with him was the light touch of a finger under his chin, barely felt through his beard, gently lifting his gaze upward. Opening his eyes, his vision blurred and watery, he saw a large translucent figure standing over him, the moonlight shining through it, feeling the finger which had lifted his chin gently caress his cheek. He blinked, once, twice, and rather than disappearing as his eyesight cleared, the specter became sharper. A large naked man, sizeable belly, big beard, hairy arms and chest. His large man. His bear. His love.
“Jeff?” he whispered, reaching out, his hand passing through the figure, which parted before him like mist.
“Yes, Roy” said the figure, in a voice more like a sigh, like the wind rustling through tall grass, barely heard yet distinct.
“You can't be real, I must be imagining it, you're dead” Roy said, slowly getting to his feet, his eyes drawn to the images' body, to the body he had loved for so long.
“I don't know, Roy, I don't know. I guess I know I'm dead, I don't remember things very clearly" said the apparition, its’ throat and face becoming more solid as it spoke while the rest faded slightly. "I'm so sorry I left you, I shouldn't have ..."
Roy was a logical man who also believed that not everything could be explained. Ghosts and spirits, the paranormal overall, he thought most likely existed in some fashion, just not in a way he understood. He didn't know if he was experiencing a dream or a delusion or reality in some form, but he quickly decided there was no harm in going along with it for now, whereas to reject it outright would mean he'd never know.
Jeff, stop, please. I’ve been beating myself up over not being there for you, it isn’t your fault. I should have been there. I love you so much; I never told you that at the end.”
Jeff gave his small smile. “I don’t really remember the end, Roy. I remember loving you, I remember knowing you loved me, I remember not wanting to leave you. You not saying it in that last moment doesn’t mean I didn’t know didn’t experience it every waking day of my life. Don’t sweat the silly stuff.”
That saying is just as dumb as the first time you said it 15 years ago, you know. And I still adore it.”
I am damn adorable, that much we know.”
Still full of yourself, I see.”
You just want to be full of me.”
Roy laughed out loud, the quick give and take so much like when Jeff had been with him, the easy comradery, the comfortable flirting. He reached out a hand, very carefully placing it on the misty shoulder of his love, feeling substance that was just barely there. “I’ll always be in love with you, Jeff. Always.”
And I with you Roy.”
Uh, so, no mystical disappearing act now that we’ve said our ‘I love you’s? What happens next?”
I don’t know. I’m here, I don’t know how or why. I’ll stay as long as I can.”
It seems like your ghost is made of mist or water, yet somehow solid. Not a lot of it though. If only all that rain was part of it, I’d be complaining that you needed to diet.”
Jeff laughed. “You never liked it when I did diet.”
Because you were so cranky.”
Because you liked the love handles.”
They are sexy.” Both man and ghost snorted.
I think it’s only the moisture from your body, your tears, your sweat. Must be all that DNA we shared still in action.”
Then let’s share a little more” said Roy, leaning forward and opening his mouth, feeling soft lips cover his, the memory of a tongue pass his lips and brush against his teeth, dancing against his own tongue. Felt his mouth go dry as the tongue exploring it became more solid, willing himself to salivate more, feeling the tears of joy leaking from his eyes also flash away. His arms could now hold Jeff and he felt Jeff’s arms around him faintly. He shuddered and breathed a happy sigh as the kiss broke. They stood with foreheads touching, gently holding each other.
That was really nice.”
It really was. It might be nicer if you were naked too though.”
I was wondering about that. Do you appear to all the guys naked?”
Yes, I’m the Ghost of Sex, Past, Present and Future“ Jeff deeply intoned with a laugh. “I’ve only appeared to you, and only want to appear to you. And I don’t know, I guess clothes aren’t really part of you, so they don’t come back? I could try to materialize some for you.”
Do that, stud, and the next liquid you get will be a golden shower!”
You always did piss like a draft horse.”
That was meant to be a threat.”
Duly noted.”
You are such a perv.”
You love it.”
Lucky for you I do.”
So, why aren’t your clothes off yet? I thought that was where this was going?”
You have a one track mind.”
Like you aren’t on the same path.”
Well, yeah” said Roy with a smile as he stepped back from Jeff and quickly shucked his t-shirt, first his padded belly then his broad hairy chest coming into view. He gave the shirt a quick twirl over his head and tossed it towards the hamper, watching as appreciation lit Jeff’s eyes. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops, laughing, before tossing it as well, then unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor before trying to step out of them and almost tripping, falling on his behind to the bed. He laughed.
So much for a sexy strip tease. As usual, you get the graceless wonder instead” he giggled as he pulled his feet from the legs of the jeans, removing his socks at the same time, then lifting his ass to pull his briefs off.
Roy, nothing could be sexier” said the ghost, with a now evident erection. “Just relax.”
Roy was sure he heard a deep rumbling growl in the whispering voice now, that or more thunder in the distance, and felt gentle hands on his shoulders push him backwards on the bed, his legs still draped over the edge. Looking towards the end of the bed, he saw the spirit slowly sink to its’ knees between his legs, felt the brush of a beard against the tip of his still soft cock then gently trail over his balls. He spread his legs wider with a sigh. “That feels so good.”
The ghost chuckled softly and kept softly running his beard over Roy’s balls, whisper soft touches, then over his inner thighs. Roy’s cock slowly came to life, and Jeff ran his beard up the underside of it then across the tip again. Looking down, Roy saw most of the spirit become more transparent just as his mouth encircled Roy’s cock head, running his tongue around it. Roy jerked at the sensation, realizing how deep his need had become, and felt the pre-cum start to slowly leak. As Jeff licked and swallowed the pre-cum, taking it into himself, his form gained more substance, and he began to sink down on Roy’s throbbing member, going up and down slowly, deeper each time, eventually taking it into his throat and holding it in his mouth. His hands reach up and caressed Roy’s belly and then his nipples, causing his lover to squirm in pleasure. Each spurt of pre-cum granted the ghost more substance, which he was determined to put to good use.
Releasing Roy’s cock, Jeff slowly teased it with kisses, and then began to lick Roy’s balls. As Roy lifted and spread his legs, Jeff showered the inner thighs with butterfly kisses, then gentle nibbles, all the while running his hands over Roy, caressing the furry body of his lover. Roy tried to reach down and caress him back, but found there to be not enough substance, that the ghost could only focus on certain parts being material.
Just lay back and let me take care of you, Roy.”
So Roy did, focusing on receiving pleasure from his partner, pleasure which he desperately needed, feeling it fill some of that aching empty space within him. Soon he was panting and sweating, moaning Jeff’s name. Jeff turned his attention back to Roy’s cock, quickly swallowing it. He cupped Roy’s balls as he ran his tongue up and down the length, and then applied suction, bobbing up and down vigorously. The fingers on his other hand found Roy’s nipple and flicked across it, causing a gasp and shudder. Pre-cum oozed freely now, and Roy began to buck his hips.
I can’t hold it, Jeff. Fuck don’t stop. Fuck fuck fuck. I love you!”
With that, rope after rope of pent up cum shot out of Roy, straight into the ghosts’ mouth and down his throat. Jeff swallowed greedily, the sweet salty taste something he had always loved. He held Roy’s cock in his mouth the entire time, not losing any of the large load, until it began to soften. He released it then, knowing how sensitive his lover became after, and looked up, to seeing Roy beaming that wonderful happy post sex smile at him.
Thank you Jeff. Oh thank you.”
My pleasure, my love” said Jeff, as he stood, then bent over Roy, leaning in until he rested on top of him, and covered his mouth with his own. The kiss was soft and full of love, full of need satisfied for now. Jeff rolled them to their sides and indicated that they should move up the bed, which Roy happily complied with, the two bears facing each other, belly to naked belly, kissing and snuggling, Jeff’s leg up over Roy just as it should be. Roy could now feel all of Jeff, including a not so tentative poking.
Guess my cum was sorta the magic juice, huh, big guy. You’re all firm and solid now.”
Getting there, stud, getting there” growled Jeff, beginning to nibble on Roy’s lip and slowly rub their hips together. “Better be more where that came from.”
As Jeff moved to suck on Roy’s nipples, Roy now able to carefully caress his hairy shoulders, Roy found himself responding, his cock slowly coming back to life. The men explored each other, delighting as they always did in every aspect of their bodies, and soon enough Roy felt Jeff’s hand milking his cock, squeezing it hard.
I don’t know, I already shot hard.”
Relax.”
With that, Jeff’s swung into a sixty-nine position and his mouth softly covered Roy’s cock, holding it carefully without too much pressure. He ran his tongue slowly over the underside of the glans, very gently, over and over, and then swallowed him whole carefully before coming back up to the glans only again. Roy took Jeff’s cock into his own mouth, feeling it rigid and hard, but as he greedily sucked finding it lacked enough substance.
Give it time lover, go slow and gentle. No rush.”
The men lavished their love on each other then, very softly sucking cocks and balls, caressing asses, re-learning each other as they did every time they made love. Once Roy began to shudder, Jeff rolled them so that Roy was on his back and Jeff covered him, and he began to work Roy’s cock in earnest, Roy pinned and holding as tight as he could. Again the pre-cum was flowing, and it lubed the mouth sucking his cock before being swallowed away. Jeff took a precious dollop of the pre-cum on his finger, and then reached under Roy, spreading his crack, and carefully slid the lubed finger up his hole. He carefully widened it as Roy gasped, then dove deep to hit the prostate. Roy bucked and jumped, gasping, and then gushed with cum, a wracking intense orgasm.
Again Jeff held his lover’s cock in his mouth until it softened, until he felt Roy relax. He turned again, looking down, gazing at the body of the man he loved.
Roy looked up, seeing the rugged beauty of his man, both inside and out, and smiled, holding out his arms. Jeff settled into him, and the men kissed again.
It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but time is of no consequence when you are with your other half, it simply matters that you are. They kissed and loved and talked and gazed into each other’s eye, eternity existed within the blink of an eye and it was enough. Each moment treasured but no better than the previous or following, the present was what mattered because it defined the past and future.
Much later, or all too soon, Jeff’ need came to the point of no control. Feeling Jeff’s ghostly cock heat up and throb, Roy knew now was the time.
Jeff, fuck me. Please. I need to feel you.”
Roy, love, this should be about you.”
No, it has been and is about us. Stop being an oaf and fuck me already.”
Jeff kissed Roy hard, and Roy felt the solidity of his form, knew it could happen.
When two people love each other, the needs of one are the needs of the other. Demands aren’t just that, they are expressions of mutual needs and don’t require explanations or softening. Jeff rolled Roy to his stomach and lifted his hips easily, thrusting a pillow under him. Neither said a word, uttered a sound, until Jeff spread Roy’s ass checks and a ghostly tongue licked Roy’s hole, softly but surely. The moans started then. Jeff rimmed Roy slowly and just how he liked it, circling the hole for a good long time before softly touching and teasing it, then swiping over it again and again before pushing against it. Roy slowly opened to Jeff’s tongue, relaxing and letting the pleasure flow over him. Yet again pre-cum leaked strongly from him. He gasped and writhed and groaned, finally it was too much
Fuck me. Fuck me NOW! I need it.”
If he had been listening closely, not lost in the pleasure, he would have heard the frustration in the ghosts’ growl, but he did feel when the ghost backed away and headed to the nightstand, grumbling that having no spit was a damn pain in the ass, and then felt the cool drizzle of lube hit his gaping hole.
After lubing himself (and spilling on the floor through his ghostly paw), Jeff slowly slid his cock between Roy’s hairy butt cheeks, savoring the feel of it, taking his time to find the hole, then just pressing gently against it, flexing his own ass muscles to make his cock twitch and tickle it. He slowly rocked back and forth, his hands caressing Roy’s hips, as he concentrated on making his cock, hips and hands as substantial as he could.
While the teasing felt good, the repeated pleasuring he had already received made Roy eager, and he knew what he wanted. Gathering his knees, he pushed up and back just as the cock crossed his opening again, forcing the head past his sphincter in one move, gasping in delight.
Oh, you want it that way, do you baby” growled Jeff, grabbing Roy’s hips and plunging himself the rest of the way in, hard and fast. No matter how fast, Roy felt it in slow motion, felt the flared head of Jeff’s cock hit his prostate and rub across it, then the underside of Jeff’s shaft massaging it as it glided across. Felt it as Jeff bottomed out in him, his ass knowing every ridge and vein of the intruder, hugging it and loving it. Felt Jeff’s hips against his ass, solid and firm. Felt the soft touch of Jeff’s balls resting against his. His ass felt split asunder yet full of pleasure.
You need a good fucking, do you? You still have the hottest ass ever, babe, and it’s mine” growled Jeff, as he pulled back, then rammed back in, and started to rapidly piston into the eager hole. Roy felt Jeff’s pre-cum adding to the lube inside him, as he himself began to leak heavily due to the attention his prostate was getting, though no drop of it hit the sheets. Jeff kept at it, shifting position occasionally to hit different spots, making Roy stretch open wider.
Once Jeff could see Roy begin to tire of the rapid stimulation, he released Roy’s hips and moved his hands up to his shoulders, pressing him face down yet ass up, forcing himself in deep and holding there. Roy tried to push back, but between the grip on his shoulders and Jeff’s hips, he was held in place, moaning. Slowly Jeff pulled back, Roy feeling every inch come slowly out of him, feeling himself closing up and empty, until just the tip remained inside him. Then Jeff slowly pushing himself back in, not hurried or rushed, focusing on the combination of warmth and softness yet tightness of his lover’s ass as it welcomed him back. With each slow measured stroke, Jeff praised his lover, told him how good it felt, how handsome he was, how much he missed everything about him. Each time Jeff’s bull balls caressed Roy’s, they contracted a bit, and his control slipped a bit more.
Eventually, Jeff let go of Roy’s shoulders and leaned forward, his big belly against Roy’s lower back, planting kisses between Roy’s shoulder blades. His hands reached around and his fingers played with Roy’s nipples. His penetration was much shallower this way, but it left his cock head constantly massaging Roy’s prostate.
Roy loved the feel of Jeff pressed against him, even without the weight. He felt secure and loved.
I love you Jeff, I love you so much. That feels so good, big man, so good.”
At that, Jeff’s thrusts began to get more erratic, his breath coming hard and fast across Roy’s back, and while Roy was also lost in the moment, he knew what he still needed.
Jeff.”
The only response was a low growl.
Jeff, I want to finish on my back. I want to see you.”
Yeah babe yeah soon.”
Roy knew Jeff wouldn’t hold on until ‘soon’, the two men had been through it all together. It wasn’t dominance or inconsideration, the two men treated each other as nothing but equals who cared deeply and completely for each other. Jeff had just reached that point he had taken Roy to multiple times already that evening, where the world becomes focused on one event. But Roy knew his lover well, and what he wanted, so without hesitation he pushed up with both hands and rolled Jeff off of him, a much easier task when there was so little weight involved.
Huh, what …”
I said, we’re finishing on my back, you big lug.”
Oh, yeah, sorry” Jeff grinned sheepishly.
No sorry, you have work left” Roy said, as he raised his ass and pulled the pillow under it.
Jeff grinned wolfishly as he quickly moved his substance from his belly to his shoulders, and lifted Roy’s legs up to them as he aimed his cock at the still ready hole.
The brief respite had brought Jeff somewhat down from the edge, at least enough that he didn’t shoot as soon as he entered his lover. He looked straight into Roy’s eyes, and said “I love you” just as he sank himself in, causing Roy’s head to fall back as he howled in ecstasy, his hands tightly gripping the sheets.
Jeff plunged in deep, and then set a steady pace, gazing at his lover’s body, taking it in, enjoying the exquisite feel of being inside the man he loved. Roy looked back up on Jeff’s body, the man he had spent so many years loving and being loved by, and as always marveled at the magnificence of it, the rugged beauty. He tried to reach up to try to tweak Jeff’s nipples, but could do no more than barely caress them, which brought a moan and faster thrusting. He watched as Jeff began to sweat, the beaded droplets dissipating back into mist. He felt his own body responding yet again, the repeated attack on his prostate giving him no respite, and pre-cum began to flow yet again. As his pre-cum evaporated, he felt his hole lubed more and more by Jeff’s pre-cum. As he moaned in pleasure, he felt Jeff’s deliberate pace falter and become uneven, saw Jeff’s eyes glaze as panted harder and harder.
Suddenly, Jeff’s head tilted back and he bellowed a roar of triumph, a declaration that he had mated with the one he desired above all, as he pushed his cock in deep one last time and let loose. Hot bear seed filled Roy, the pulsing cock filling him with heat and immense pleasure, and he let loose as well. Rope after rope of cum shot from his erect cock, splattering against Jeff’s belly, to be rapidly absorbed in.
Jeff held himself still, the after spasms rocking him, wanting to be inside Roy as long as he could. Eventually he had to ease Roy’s legs off his shoulders and lean in to softly kiss him.
Thank you, my love.”
Thank you, for all of it.”
As they were hanging half off the bed, the two men disengaged with all the ease they could. Roy moved up to rest his head on a pillow, Jeff came around and laid out next to him, eventually they ended up with Jeff spooned up behind Roy. Jeff softly nuzzled the back of Roy’s neck and shoulders, while Roy held and kissed Jeff’s fingers. They talked, expressed their love, shared memories and joy at a new memory made, and as the gentle moonlight bathed their exhausted bodies, fell asleep cuddled close to each other.
Roy woke as sunlight streamed in the window, alone in their bed. He knew Jeff was gone. He rolled over on his back, saw the indentation in Jeff’s pillow as if a head had been resting there. The room smelled of Jeff, and of man sex. He stretched, his muscles achy in a good way, the way they did after any great night of intense love making. As he stretched his legs, he felt the telltale stickiness between his ass cheeks that showed he had been fucked well and good, and that some cum had leaked out. He found himself thinking of Jeff in a happy way, still grieving but not lost in recriminations. He loved Jeff, always would, and he knew Jeff felt the same. Real or not as the night was, he felt some measure of closure.
Eventually he got up, did his morning routine and made coffee. Coming back to the room, he saw the bottle of lube lying on the bed, smiled, and picked it up. As he walked around the bed to the nightstand to put it away, his foot found the small puddle of lube on the floor. He laughed, grabbed a towel and cleaned it up. Going to put the towel in the hamper, he picked up the clothes he had so poorly tossed towards it the night before. Dropping them in, he spied something under the dresser next to the hamper. He bent over to see, it was a pair of Jeff’s used underwear, a pair he had missed in his cleaning. Obviously Jeff had as good an aim for the hamper as he did. Humming to himself, he walked to the kitchen to toss it into a Ziploc, wanting to retain the scent for as long as he could.
He decided he’d never know if a ghost really came to him, or if he imagined it, despite the circumstantial evidence. But he knew that whatever it was, it was what he had needed, and he thanked Jeff for it, for being with him always and forever.
Now if he could just resist the urge to join a pottery class.


THE END