Meyers and Sons Paint and Auto Body - Chapter 9

Meyers and Sons Paint and Auto Body

By Papa Werebear and Ursus Major

Chapter 9

He was dreaming... a sweet, sad dream. In it, his mother had been teaching he and his brother how to pull salmon from the falls of the river. When she’d had her fill of the brains, skin, and roe, he and his brother got the flesh. They both had caught one or two salmon for themselves and greedily devoured them, but they were not nearly as skillful as their mother, at least, not yet. The feast of fish had made her milk taste and smell like the fish she’d consumed. Then the scene shifted to the summer meadow filled with blackberries and other ripe, sweet, tangy wild fruit that Nature offered up to those who knew where they were to be found. Then he was scampering up a tree, his brother just ahead of him when mom called out the warning that an adult male was near.

The dream shifted again, to tearing flesh from the deer carcass from which she’d scared the wolves away as the cold of late autumn approached. Then it shifted yet again to the smell of the cruel blizzard that came early, before the beginning of hibernation. They’d curled up with her, he and his brother, safe in the den made warm by their being in it.

It was so long ago, so very long ago, when the only humans he knew of were the ones that lived in dens made of dead trees. The winter had been hard and when they emerged in late spring, thin and hungry, there was very little food to find. He, his mother, and brother managed, barely. As the snows melted, a great male, starved and too thin after his hibernation, found them. He approached aggressively and attacked. His mother had died, defending him and his brother against the large male grizzly, and all they could do was watch from above as the male partially ate their mother.

He was saddened, and he and his brother mourned the loss, but they moved away from the corpse, knowing it would attract other bears as soon as the scent of the male had dissipated enough. He and his brother survived because they were near the age where their mother would have chased them off so that she could mate and have more cubs. They had stuck together, and that was a large part of the reason they both had lived. They looked out for one another and remembered things for each other. If he didn’t know where a source of food was, his brother did and vice versa.

They grew strong together, his brother becoming a stout, handsome bear; but eventually, inevitably, his brother pushed him away. His need to assert himself, to stake claim to territory and mates overwhelmed the need for the companionship of a den mate. Alone, he began to make his way in the world. Occasionally he would encounter his brother. They would greet each other cautiously, briefly share companionship and then part, knowing that the overlap in their territories had to grow smaller, that they could not continue to meet.

In his dream, he knew his brother and mother were long dead, and that it had been ages since he’d wandered in the wilds as just an ordinary bear.

The scene shifted once again to another year. It was late fall and, through the first snows, he’d tracked down the new scent. As an adult bear, ten years old and in his prime, who had roamed his territory hundreds of times in his life, this new smell had piqued his interest like nothing else ever had. This aroma caused a stirring in his loins like he’d never known. Females in the mating season had never caused this level of urging. Yes, they had provoked him, drawn him into a breeding haze that made his thinking dull and his body frenzied with the need to breed. Those encounters had produced many sons and daughters for him, but this… was different. This fired his brain like nothing else, and far from dulling his mind as female mating scents did, it sharpened his perceptions. He tracked the scent from the faint wisps of odor at the far outer edge of his northern territory to the strong, powerful musk in the cave just within the borders of his southwestern territory.

Outside of the den there were scratches on a pine tree left by the bear that now occupied the den that he himself had dug three years ago. The intruder had laid claim to his den. He stretched up to touch the scratches that had been left to demonstrate the new occupant's size and strength, to measure himself against him, and could not reach them; they were at least another half-length longer than his own front leg. The scent all over the tree, rubbed on it by the interloper, was his ownership markings of the territory.

He was quite obviously a grizzly bear like himself, quite virile, and very experienced. He was definitely older by a good ten years though that part of the scent was also puzzling, as there were tantalizing hints that he could be older than that. Still, that didn’t matter compared to what else this musk told him; this bear was SO much stronger than himself and that strength was not declining with age as it should be. This was both an old bear, and a very strong bear. Images of the male that had killed his mother entered his mind, but that male had smelled ordinary, not like this trespasser. This bear was peculiar, like he wasn’t wholly 'bear'.

He hesitated to enter; he knew better than to challenge another bear in his den, particularly one this physically powerful, even if that bear was encroaching on his territory. He inched toward the opening, huffing, chuffing as a way to warn the bear inside that he was there. Perhaps it would only be a standoff. Perhaps the bear would leave once he realized he was in claimed territory. Oddly, the other male’s potent odor had made him uncontrollably horny. He felt the way he did when he needed to mate, and so he was stuck between two competing urges; he needed to go in, to see, to fuck; and the desire to back out, because it was so dangerous to beard a bear in his den, especially one of this mass and strength.

The invader’s musk spoke to him (scent WAS language to him, as to all bears). The smell was grizzly bear, of course, but much more; there was his sex musk, his power, his obvious good health, his corpulence, and there was also that scent he knew but did not know. It was like something he’d encountered before, akin to it but so very different that he couldn’t place it. It hovered in his mind, just beyond recognition. This only intrigued him more.

There was suddenly a change in the scent, made by the other bear’s awareness of him. It was an invitation, not a threat; an offer of companionship. A scent akin to how his brother used to smell when they roamed together, but also like the scent that females looking for mates made. The bear inside was awake and wanted him to enter. He heard a faint growl and chuffing followed by a melodic vocalization, a sound somewhat like a mother made to call her cubs, but deeper. He decided that he would risk taking this rival bear up on his offer. The bear was being friendly, so he would be friendly back.

Entering the earthen den, which opened into a small cave, he found a huge reddish grizzly, probably half again as large as himself and incredibly fat. This bear was quite successful, and as ready for winter as he was… no, this bear looked like he was ready for two winters! The bear had ‘roused from his slumber and regarded his guest. The large bear then did something unexpected; he rolled over on his back, exposing his belly to attack, and he also spread his legs to reveal his cock just emerging from its sheath.

He moved to the red bear, bowing his head, keeping his eyes averted and, delicately sniffed at his crotch in the most submissive posture he could manage. When approaching another male’s genitals, he thought it prudent to present as little threat as he possibly could. He gently began lapping at the balls and rod proffered by the huge grizzly. He tasted the red bear’s sweet, clear, nectar and his own swelling member began to emerge from its furry home.

Charlie awoke from his dream memories, hard and leaking bounteous quantities of precum, his half form body shuddered as he touched his ursine rod with his paw hand. He pushed it into his wet belly fur, coating his cock in the precum that had collected there.

His werebear kin lay about him deep in sleep as he remembered how he’d been mated to and bred by his Daddy Bear in the cave that winter long ago. He began jacking his cock thinking about how, as a bear, he’d moved into that cave with his werebear Daddy for hibernation. How as he suckled that beautiful cock the first day of meeting, and how his red furred Daddy had suckled him back. How his Daddy had entered him the first time, fucking him like a sow bear. How they had slept for weeks at a time cuddled close rousing occasionally to make love, the bear and the werebear, pleasuring each other often through the cold winter. They slept sometimes in a 69 position so they could wake and easily suckle and return to sleep, the comforting scent of each others crotches in their nostrils and brains.

He stroked himself, edging as he thought of how the following spring after hibernating, he’d changed for the first time, and became not human and, not bear, but both, what he knew as half form now. How he had enjoyed his bigger and stronger body, an equal to his Daddy’s now, and his enhanced senses when he was in full bear shape. He remembered how he had mounted and entered his Daddy then for the first time, and reveled in the deep penetration, the soft, slick slide and the heat, fur, and heady musk of bearsex. He thought about how after a year or so, his Daddy taught him how to take the full shape of the small, weak, sparsely furred humans.

He noted that he was like the ones that lived in the wooden dens, but not like them. He had kept fur on his face and body where they were devoid of it on those places. He began, very slowly, to understand their ways, the ones that lived together and chattered so much. His Daddy chattered at him in the way of humans and eventually, he began to understand sound as a language as complex, but not as direct or precise, as scent. He’d become human, but not human. He and his mate had gone amongst the furless humans; and they, never having seen such tall, robust, hairy, pale beings before, were curious.

When his Daddy shifted form, and at his urging Charlie did too, the smaller, dark-skinned humans became truly excited. They spoke in the way of their people and Charlie was confused that he did not understand the noises they made as he did when his Daddy spoke. Eventually one of them, a bent, older female smelling of smoke and a multitude of herbs, began making bear noises at them. She was imitating the calming sounds mother bears make, though not perfectly, and with a much higher pitch. His Daddy then dropped to all fours and bowed his head to the elder female. It was then that they were greeted with great friendship. They were surrounded by the whole group of humans, hands moved all over their fur, stroking them with what he later was told was reverence. There was then food, drink, and celebration.

Charlie did not understand it until his Daddy explained it to him; they were being treated as if they were the Sire of The People, The Great Father Bear, and it was at that point that he’d first encountered the concept of Gods. For their part, Charlie and his Daddy returned the kindness bestowed upon them. As a team they hunted for the humans, providing many grass feeders for the frail beings they’d befriended.

As Charlie lay there, thinking about how he’d been fucked by his Daddy with the tribe watching and getting close to climax, he thought how he now had his own sons; and they and he were a part of a werebear tribe, a clan, a family. All here within the sacred cave were hybrids, not fully bear, but no longer fully human. Their paths had been different than his, of course. He had started life as a four footed bear. Even now, after all this time, he felt the pull of the wild in a way that was somehow different, he imagined, than his were brothers did. They’d started their lives as human, and he felt that they were perhaps more removed from the wild than he himself was. He felt sometimes as if he had surrendered something central to his being when he became were and could shift to 'human'. He wondered if all his were brothers felt something like that... that they surrendered an essential and unrecoverable part of their humanity when they gained the ability to be 'bear'.

His paw smeared the abundant precum around the bulbous tip of his half human-shaped cock. He was close now, so he reached over to shake one of his sons, sleeping pressed close to him on his left. With the other paw, he gently shook the shoulder of the other son, pressed into his right flank. Both roused easily and, noticing their daddy, they began to shift to join him. He went further in his change to full bear form, he spread his legs, and offered his heavy balls and thick, unsheathed shaft as his own Daddy had done so very long ago.

Each of his boys moved into position, lapping at his fur-covered balls, and curling their tongues around his cock. When he came, there was more than enough for both of his sons. After his orgasm, his cubs tussled with each other in sexual play, one mounting the other and vice versa.

As the wash of sexual gratification ebbed, he found himself thinking that nothing good comes without effort and sometimes loss. But what was gained was sometimes much greater than what is given up. No… nothing good comes without effort and sometimes loss… and sometimes good can come from bad. He reflected on that last part sadly, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he once again thought of what Bahonu had shown him, and how he could do little or nothing to change what was to happen.

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Royce Tobin was ready.

The department had been offering him early retirement, and he decided to take them up on it. He’d been getting all the paperwork together, and preparing for this since he found out about Ron and his boys. It was a generous deal, but in reality with the plans he’d been making, he seriously doubted if he’d be as dependent on money to survive as most people would; bears could live off the land. He’d also finalized the purchase of a small well-appointed, yet secluded cabin home five hours north of his current home in town, in the mountains. He needed a retreat, some place to be while he changed, and while he changed his boys. In reviewing the recordings from the shop, he’d found out that at in just a month, Ron would be making his trip. He even knew the route he’d be taking thanks to the surveillance system in his office. It would be then he’d make his move, and he had all the things he needed to attempt what he intended. He just hoped the knowledge from the old tome in his puzzle chest was right.

The shop had been closed for a week, and the young man, Cody, had returned from whatever trip they’d all taken a changed man. Apparently, none of the regular customers that visited the shop seemed to notice past asking if he’d been working out, if he was wearing lifts, or if he had a cold that made his voice deeper. It was amazing that they glossed over what, to Royce, were stunning differences. Cody walked with a confident swagger, Royce knew, was because he’d become a werebear. He was taller, wider, more heavily muscled, and had plumped to rounder shape. He was as big as Bubba now, and his beard grew out to five o’clock shadow before midday. Royce noted that he would have to go shave twice daily while at the shop, because he’d disappear into the employee bathroom, and emerge smooth on his face everywhere except where his thick circle beard grew; and… he was absolutely COVERED in manfur when Royce watched the daily after work fuck at the shop. His voice was deeper when he spoke, growled, or grunted. His package, Royce noted with thoughts of increase for his own large cock, was much larger. He’d watched, repeatedly, the young man transform for the first time on a fuck bench while Ron fucked his throat and Nick fucked his ass and shot hard each time seeing him change as he was fucked.

So now Royce knew how long it took for a human to become a werebear, and made notes in the book he’d been recording observations in. He gathered what he needed, wrote out, and went over his plans, had gone over them hundreds of times, made arrangements, and purchases, and by the time Ron was ready to go on his trip, Royce would be ready, too. He’d also built in a few contingencies; because no plan goes off without a hitch.

The boys were told that Daddy would be making a trip for three weeks up north, and that they were to carry on with their work, and studies, and upkeep of the house. Robbie and Tyler were in charge and were to see to it everything got done, but told that if they abused their roles or shirked their responsibilities, there would be unpleasant consequences when Daddy got home. They were all welcome to cigars and alcohol, but that, too, was not to be abused and had to be replaced.

Royce leaned back in his chair, puffed on his half-smoked cigar, slowly jacking his leaking cock while considering calling one of his boys down to satisfy his needs.  He reflected on the truth of the matter; life was good... and it was soon going to get better!  Daddy needed to shoot, but he wanted it to be in someone, not just all over his paw.  He texted Dwight to come down while he rubbed his thickening cock, and let his mind wander; yes, life was going to be so much better.