Meyers and Sons Paint and Auto Body
By Papa Werebear and Ursus Major
The room is dark, with only the flickering light from the monitor casting a dim glow. The gym/dungeon has no windows to let in light. Royce grunts as he sips from a glass of whiskey and then pulls deeply on the half smoked cigar. It's early, but Royce thinks, 'What the hell?' The front of his sweats are sopping with the precum he has been pumping out over the last several hours as he watches the images on the monitor. He scratches at his two day old stubble. It is dense and has grown so fast that it is no longer like sand paper and feels soft to the touch. How he wished he could grow his beard out.
For long years, he has run manufactured images in his mind as he jacked off; images of men who changed into furry beasts, and coupled with each other with the sexual abandon of beasts who’ve given themselves over to their powerful lusts. There were fleeting stories that were told and then somehow forgotten by others, eye witness accounts that were sensational, and then just faded away, never to be followed up on; but somehow those stories clung to Royce’s mind and would not let go; either that, or he couldn't let them go. Stories that aroused him in ways that no other, real, porn ever did. Royce does not understand how others can so easily forget or dismiss these stories when he never can. The first werewolf movie he saw is still as fresh in his mind as the night he saw it as a young boy of thirteen, at a local theater. Royce puffs on the cigar held in the corner of his mouth and sips again from the tumbler, and remembers the tingle he felt in his pubescent crotch; the surge of blood that had given him his first true ejaculation and how he left the theater embarrassed, his coat held over his crotch because he’d cum in his pants after the third transformation scene. Another sip, another puff, exhaling slowly; he recalls the obsession that grew with each book or magazine article about were creatures he had been able to find and read... and covet. He still had them all, locked in his strongbox in his dungeon. He watched hairy boys and men in locker rooms in school and later in the police academy and at the station, hoping somehow that one would betray himself and transform.
He has collected artifacts, carefully assembling his collection over the years. The very first fetish he had found was a small quartzite carving of a stylized bear he had seen in an old antique shop that was next to the barbershop where he was sent to get his hair cut every three weeks. Bears appealed to Royce. In his mind, they symbolized power and masculinity. He had picked up the little carving and immediately felt a kind of tingling pull. It had been warm in his hand, but when he tried to put it down, he had felt oddly unable to do so. He used the money he'd been given for a haircut to purchase the item. He'd told his parents a lie about having lost the money.
Royce carried the fetish with him in his pocket throughout the rest of that school year. He sometimes carries it now. The odd thing was that, when he would come across some other object that caught his eye (often, but not always, something to do with bears), he could almost instantly tell if it was 'worthy' or not. Nearly always, there was no tingle, no pull. But a few times there had been the same reaction that he had felt the first time. Royce trusts this feeling for some reason. He doesn't understand exactly what the feeling means, or why it is so rarely present, but he trusts it. He made up stories to go along with the items, or at least thought he made them up. Somehow, these 'stories' are real. So, at home, he has a case with six mismatched objects that do not look at all like they belong together or are of any great value. But each gives him a warm feeling when he passes by, or when he handles them. Perhaps it is these object that keep his memories of the old stories fresh and clear in his mind.
Royce thinks he is strange, even twisted, but then dismisses the thought. He drains the tumbler, puffs on his stub of a cigar and smiles. Royce now knows that the stories he remembered, and drew mental pictures to illustrate, are real. He sees the proof in the video file he runs and re-runs, jockeying back and forth to replay the moments when the men in the shop transform. He has marked the interesting parts of the file and deleted the remainder, giving himself a nearly two hour concentrated dose of werebear porn. He desperately wants to open his pants and touch himself, but he is strong and resists the nearly overwhelming urge. He is strong, he can control himself... when he wants to. He teaches his boys that control, makes them practice. It's like edging; and it will make his release, when he allows it to himself, all the more explosive, powerful and satisfying.
And he wants, more than ever, now that he knows it is real and possible, to join with these men, to be changed by them, to be joined to them, to become one like them... and then give that precious gift to his own boys. In his mind he envisions his sons growing and changing as the bear within them grows and fills them with ursine power and he feels the pride of a father watching his son grow to full manhood and the arousal of a man besotted with the transformation of man into bear.
His boys are out, Robbie at a once a month Saturday class, Tyler running errands; groceries, hardware store, mailing letters and a trip to the sex shop because he’s been especially good and could pick out a toy for himself. Adam is out as well, picking up parts that have arrived on back order at the auto supply for Daddy and doing some research at the public library for a paper due the next week in one of his classes. A good Daddy keeps track of his boys' school work, even when they were becoming more their own men; Adam wasn't there yet and still needed reminding about his academic responsibilities. Royce smiles again at the thought of his strong sons growing up to be just like their Daddy.
Royce reaches for the bottle, but stops as he hears noise from upstairs. A key in the lock, and then steps in the room above. It is a lighter tread than either Tyler or Robbie would have with their heavier frames, so Adam, then. Royce sets the bottle back and gets out of the chair, his sweatpants plastered to his crotch and thighs. He goes to the door and opens it and calls to Adam.
“Son, come down here.” He waits at the open door, knowing that Adam will come to the stairs and partway down, and wait to be asked again. Royce has taught all his sons that the dungeon is Daddy's place. The boys are often down there, for play or for workouts with the weights; but always by invitation. This has been especially impressed on Adam and Daddy has been very pleased by how absolutely obedient Adam is; ALWAYS respecting the very letter of the rules set forth.
Adam stops a couple of stairs from the bottom and looks at Royce. “Yes, Daddy, Sir... what can I do for you?”
“You can come in, son. This will be just you and me this time. Strip.” Adam quickly sheds his clothes, his cock thickening with anticipation. He loved alone time with his Daddy. He has grown to like times with Robbie and Tyler together with his Daddy, but time with Daddy alone was truly special in his mind. He comes close to Royce and gently strokes his belly and chest, then gently sucks on one of Royce's nips around the straps of the black tank top, just as Daddy likes.
“Ah, that's so good, son.” Daddy sighs. “Take my shirt off.” Adam complies, lifting the tank off over Daddy's head and laying it aside. Royce hugs Adam and kisses him, then pushes him down to his knees. “See all that wet there? That's my precum. I've been waiting for you to come home, to take care of me. Suck that. Suck it all out of the cloth.” Adam bends to his task, sucking the still-sweet nectar from his Daddy's sweats. After Adam has gotten all he could from the fabric, Royce raises his boy to his feet.
“Were the parts all there? All correct?” Adam nods, looking directly at his Daddy. “How about the paper, you got all your research done?” Again, Adam nodded.
“One of the librarians helped me get a couple of extra sources, and found an article that will be a big help. I printed that out and took notes on the others. I'm ready to write everything up.”
“Good boy. When's the paper due?”
“Good. You're a good boy, son. Daddy's proud of you.” Adam glowed, and looked at his Daddy with love in his eyes. “Now, Daddy needs to give you his seed.” Adam, naked, looked expectantly at his Daddy.
“Where should I be, Daddy?”
“On the bench, I think, strapped down and completely immobile.” The padded fuck bench next to the desk is something that Royce built shortly after Robbie and Tyler had come to live with him. It is made of wood, sanded smooth and urethaned, with padding and leather covering. It was part of his boy’s duties to care for all the leather furniture and gear in the house, which included cleaning up the bench after sessions. The bench consisted of a main, fairly broad surface that the fuckee would lay his belly and chest on. It is sloped slightly, so that one end was higher than the other. At either side of the higher end are two smaller platforms that the fuckee would put their knees on, raising their rump to the exact height of Royce's crotch as he is standing behind them. Everything was adjustable to accommodate different sizes, and Adam had immediately began adjusting the bench as soon as Royce had told him he was to be fucked. There were stout leather restraints for the fuckee. Daddy, having strapped his son in, kicks off his sweats, places himself behind as Adam, and raises his ass a little more on the bench. Royce retrieves a leather hood from the wall and puts it over Adam’s head, partially for the young man’s pleasure and, more importantly, so Adam will not see what’s playing on the monitor.
“Daddy’s gonna put on some porn while he fucks, son. I’ve been thinking about doing to you what’s on this video for a very long time,” Royce says and squeezes out a huge glob of precum onto the boy’s pucker, rubbing it around with his cock head. “DAMN, you've got a pretty ass!” He leans over and puts one hand on each of Adam's butt cheeks and separates them. He leans in and begins laving the pink pucker with his tongue, tickling and teasing, licking his own sweet precum from the hole.
This is a reward for Adam, for having gotten his research done and having checked the order contents at the auto place for accuracy before coming home. He knows how much Adam enjoys the tongue teasing and how excited it gets him. Before he enters his boy, he reaches over and adjusts the monitor screen so he can see the images clearly. He starts the recording again, playing the scene where the men change into bears, and Big Ron comes in and fucks the young man so masterfully. He turns his attention to his son's ass, smacking first one cheek then the other with his open palm, before slowly entering, pushing in slowly, an inch at a time, savoring the feel of pressure and heat. He pulls back out, all the way; then repeats the slow entry, feeling the ridge of his cock for the pucker open, then pop inside. All the while, he is watching the men in the video, having their way with the young man. Without audio, he has to imagine the sounds, but he is well capable of that as he has watched and re-watched it over and over since this morning. 'It almost looks like some sort of initiation,' he thinks. 'It's not a rape, the kid is too willing, too into it. Besides, I see him around the place in nearly all the videos, he must work there.' Royce slowly picks up speed in his own fucking of his boy while he watches.
The video unreels, each bear taking his place behind the young man in the sling. Daddy Royce has controlled himself, edging inside his boy, slowing down and backing off when he came close to cumming. Finally, Royce's favorite scene arrives. The white grizzly that is Big Ron steps up to the plate, pauses, then sheathes his member deep in the man in the sling. Royce feels his own tip flare at the sight, and his own load, primed and enlarged by the long session of edging earlier, beginning to boil up in his balls. He strives to match his own increasing pounding of Adam to Big Ron's pummeling of the guy in the sling. The sight of all the bears, jacking, feeding their meat to the man in the sling, gushing their werebear seed into his waiting throat, stroking Ron's fur while he fucks, it’s incredibly arousing, driving him on to his own climax.
Royce fears that he won't be able to hold on and will shoot before Ron does in the recording. He struggles to pace himself. Finally the moment arrives and he sees Ron throw back his great bear head in preparation for his moment of breeding triumph. Royce lets his self-control drop, and feels his load rush up his shaft and pulse out into his boy. He cannot hear Big Ron's roars, but his own are timed with the motions he sees on the screen. He holds on to Adam's shoulders as he shoves in one last time, shooting the last of his load. He collapses, spent and sweating, onto Adam's back.
“Oh FUCK… OH FUCK… that was HOT! So FUCKING… HOT!” Royce growls in between near-breathless panting.
Adam is smiling broadly in the hood. He doesn't know what his Daddy has been watching, but obviously has enjoyed himself greatly, and that makes Adam happy. He squeezes his Daddy's cock with his ass ring and butt cheeks, to give him a few last moments of pleasure until he pulls out.
Royce pulls out and wipes his cock on Adam's butt cheeks. He shuts the monitor off and removes Adam's hood. He unfastens the restraining belts and then helps Adam up. He embraces his boy, hugging him tight. “You should go shower up, son, after you've cleaned the bench. I'll fix us something for lunch in a bit.” Adam does as he is bid, and Royce quietly shuts down the video camera feeds. He has a lot to think about.
Later that evening, after his boys had played some while he had watched, Royce sends them off to bed, while he continues to mull over what he had seen on the recordings. He now knows that werebears are real. There was no doubt about that; and that fact had led him to actively think about planning something he had only fantasized about up until now.
As a young man, he had wished for, yearned for, one thing... that were creatures would be real, and that he could become one, no matter the cost. He obsessed. He could, in clearer moments, even admit that to himself. As an adult, he had never quite let go of the fantasy. Now, watching the video file yet again, he knew is long-hoped-for goal could actually happen. Fully hard, Royce is stroking himself idly while he begins mental work on his plan. It is only an outline at this point, but he is beginning to flesh in details. His memories of the past aide him in this.
The first artifact he had found, the small quartzite bear fetish, had exerted a strange power over him. The pleasant tingle it produced when he carried it in his pocket had led him to take it with him when he went to the old antique stores and flea markets his parents had made part of their weekend routine. On the rare occasions he had come across something that gave him a signal, he would return on his own later the next week and further examine the object. If it was worthy, he would acquire it.
The most exciting but mysterious find had been an old carved wooden chest, or more correctly, the manuscript within the chest. He had found it not long after he’d graduated from the academy and was still a rookie. He’d returned mid-week to the shop where he had felt the tingling pull the previous weekend. Each time he had walked past the chest, he felt the pull, but could see no object that would account for it. The fetish had never lied to him before, but he was frankly stumped. The owner, having observed Royce's pacing up and down the aisle, had come over. “Something I can help you with?”
“Um, no, I guess not. Wait... does this open?” Royce had said, pointing to the carved wooden chest on the floor.
“I'm not sure, I think it does. I have the key somewhere, we can try it.” The owner went to a cluttered desk at the back of the shop and soon returned with an old, rusty key. “This is what the old woman gave me when we cleared her attic. I've not tried it, but she said it was for the trunk. Let's see.” The owner knelt and fitted the key to the lock. At first the key stubbornly refused to turn in the lock. He was about to give up when finally the key turned. The hasp sprang open. Inside was a jumble of papers and old, worn books. As soon as Royce put his hands onto the chest, the tingle grew strong and persistent.
“I'll take it.”
At home, in the garage, he had emptied the contents which were really of no interest to him. He searched through the papers and there was nothing that would indicate special value. Yet the tingle persisted. Perhaps it was the wooden chest itself that was valuable. He looked it over, but there was nothing seemingly important about it. It was a beautifully carved box, looked to be made of rosewood too, with a rather handsome geometric design made of mother of pearl inlay. He cleaned it up, put some wax on it, placed the other items he’d collected in it and set it aside. Perhaps he’d have time to give it a more detailed inspection the following weekend.
As it turned out, it would be more than a month until he could get inspect the box. Being a rookie and low man on the totem pole, he was assigned graveyard weekend shifts and filled in for other deputies while they took vacation. This messed with his sleep rhythms and left him little time for his hobbies, including his growing interest in leather, BDSM and fine tobacco.
Occasionally he’d pass by the chest and think about inspecting it, but it seemed there was always something else making demands of his time.
Eventually Royce got a weekend off, he’d planned on spending it with a Daddy that was training him to be a Daddy, but some of his Daddy’s friends from out of town had stopped by and were taking him out of town, so he’d canceled and rescheduled.
As Royce sat in his leather recliner in his basement playroom, enjoying a cigar, some whiskey and bear porn, he felt the tingle again. He looked over at the chest that had gone ignored for a month or more. He got up and pulled the chest over to him, unlocked and opened it. He pulled his collected items out of the chest, setting them one by one on the coffee table next to the ashtray with his cigar. He retrieved his cigar, stuffed it to the side of his mouth and began examining the chest in earnest.
After a while, he noticed that a panel of the mother of pearl design on the front of the chest, moved and realized that what he had was, essentially, a puzzle box.
“This could be entertaining…” he muttered to himself as he began moving more panels on the front of the chest. Eventually he moved all the pieces into a different configuration and when the last piece moved to complete the new design he heard a ‘click’. A small spring loaded drawer popped open with a small key inside. Further, moving the last panel revealed keyhole.
He quickly put the second key into the keyhole and turned it. He heard something release inside of the chest. A spring loaded panel had lifted inside the box to revealing a false bottom.
Inside there was a manuscript and now he knew the source of the tingling. The manuscript was the worthy piece had caused the tell-tale tingling pull. He took it out of the box and felt the tingle/pull strongly, almost painfully. He moved over to a table in the corner of his playroom, turned on a light and began inspecting it. Pasted to several of the pages were sheets from an obviously much older book, with strange runic writing that Royce had never seen the like of. The hand-written notes were difficult to decipher, but at least they were in English, or at least the bulk of them appeared to be. 'Probably a translation’ Royce had thought at the time. Fearful of thieves stealing his treasure, he stored his collection in the false bottom and returning the box to the configuration that hid the secret keyhole, he took the manuscript up to his study and began what would be a several years-long effort to transcribe the contents of the yellowed pages.
Royce opens his eyes from his nostalgic reverie and reaches for the notebook he keeps in the lower drawer of his desk. He pulls out the binder and once again leafs through the pages. Over the years he has painstakingly translated the original runes and compared them with the notes the unknown author had added in his own hand. That author had made some critical mistakes in translation, mistakes that had almost certainly lead that person astray. Royce's translation made much more sense, at least as far as Royce was concerned.
The original pages had been a mishmash of fantastical remedies and their recipes, and charms against were creatures. The ancient writing had spoken of certain objects that could be fashioned to subdue and control various were creatures, but especially werebears. Some of the directions were patently impossible to carry out (how exactly was someone supposed to obtain the toenail of a hippogriffe immediately after it had given birth?), but others described more straightforward and practical procedures. Most important were the descriptions of the objects' physical appearances.
Up until now, Royce has regarded his work in translating the manuscript as something like an entertaining hobby, a way of indulging his closely held fantasies. But now that he knows such creatures actually exist, his mind makes the leap from dream to literal plan. Searching through the pages that he already knew by heart, he verifies what he has suspected. Among his collection there were three objects in particular that he could make use of... very effective use.
One was a medallion/amulet made of silver with a Nordic art bear chained to a carved stone. An inscription on the back written in the runic script similar to that found in the manuscript was apparently, when translated correctly, specific to werebears and would prevent the creature form making the transformation from human to bear. It had been mistranslated as a ‘bear keeper’ medallion and was thought to have been worn by someone who used to keep chained bears for bear baiting and indeed, some of the ones that looked like this from the early medieval era were indeed worn by men who had performing bears or bears that were used in bear wrestling and bear baiting shows. Royce shook his head in disgust, thinking about that barbaric page in human history and also chuckled to himself, thinking that those medallions were probably copies of ones like this, without the true intent worked into the amulet.
Another, a wide copper bracelet set with garnets, amber, and amethyst and spirals in bas relief, would speed up the user's first transformation from human to any form of were, shortening the time frame from four months or so to about one week.
Finally, there was one that was quite obviously a cock ring. It wasn’t made of anything out of the ordinary, certainly not precious metals. It was a simple bronze ring with some rather impressively hung bears engraved into it cavorting in sexual abandon in some interesting positions. It had been listed as a fertility bracelet, but Royce knew what it really was. Through his translations of the manuscript, he’d learned this device was supposed to have been meant for werebear fertility rites. As Royce had interpreted the writings it would increase the production of werebear seed.
Royce had worn the cock ring in private on occasion, had even bred his cubs with it on while they were hooded. It did seem to increase how much cum he pumped into his boy but perhaps that was fantasy. It certainly was not as much of an enhancement as the text had said, but now that he knew werebears were real, he thought perhaps it worked best on werebears with only minor improvements for humans.
Over the last couple of years, the desire to see his treasures daily has overcome his fear of theft. 'Besides, they look ordinary enough,' he reasons. Only he knows that very item in his collection would have had some use or purpose in dealing with werebears, or at least some form of were. But the ones that would find use in Royce's plan were those special three; the silver amulet, the copper bracelet and bronze cock ring. Royce walks to the cabinet, opens the glass door, and removes the three objects and then carefully places them on his desk and sits down, to begin planning in earnest.