Respite In Chaos
by E John Evans


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

It has been many years since Matt made his second change and became a Guardian; through all his travels he had met many Bears, along with a host of other Werecreatures including Elk, Boar, Moose, Wolves, Eagles, Falcons, and a Dolphin. Matt’s connection to nature came with a universal translator for all creatures; a fact he kept to himself. He felt as though his abilities were best kept secret from those around him since the missions he was being sent on tended to be the most dangerous and this was something he was getting tired of; always risking his head so others could sit and rule the Den. He knew he had committed himself to this but as time went by he grew very tired of it.

Matt had just finished a small errand given to him by his Elder and was calling in to give his report; as the conversation with Robert, his handler, progressed he was left feeling hollow. It seemed as if he could do nothing right lately and even though his tasks were completed, he was always chastised for one thing or another.

“... can you do nothing right?” Robert huffed on the end of the line, “You were suppose to end him, not mentor him and hope for a better tomorrow Damn it!”

Matt paused, “What’s the matter, not killing someone didn’t fit in your little plan? You know what … I’m DONE. See you later Robert, I’m going to drop off for a while; when I surface you and I have some things we need to settle … in the arena, I think. Hope you’re ready. Bye now!” He quickly ended the call, and as he looked down at the phone resting in his hand it rang again. ‘Robert…’ chuckling, Matt closed the phone and turned it over to take off the battery cover to remove both the SIM card and battery. Finally, the caustic ring and vibrations were silenced. He easily crushed the chip and battery into bits; the phone was soon to follow as he walked down the street, dropping the pieces as he went.

Matt needed a break! Coming to a bus stop, he hopped on the first bus there, paid his toll and sat down. He was lost in thought as the bus leisurely drove its route. Matt was organizing his thoughts and just taking a break, from the fever pitch pace he had been keeping lately. He was hardly home with Luke more than a few days before something would come up and he would have to leave again. He rode around for hours until the driver yelled “Last Stop”. Matt chuckled to himself as he got off of the now empty bus; he was smack dab at the base of Blue Ridge Mountain, at the corner of the state park and Lake Lure.

“Well hot damn, maybe it’s time to pay ol’ Broken-Hoof a visit,” Matt said aloud and started to walk toward the lake and the entrance to the property of the oldest Elk he had ever met; actually the oldest werecreature of all. ‘Hoof’ as Matt had come to know him was old, wise, a better fighter than Matt, and always horny. Matt chuckled again, this Elk was hung like a horse to say the least and had rocked Matt’s world on multiple occasions.

Hoof seemed to appear whenever Matt needed to be worked over or ‘handled’. Matt shook his head, smirking, as he walked; Hoof reminded him of a certain old Brown Grizzly that tended to ‘show up’ in a very similar fashion. After a few miles, he arrived at the entrance to the driveway. A cable was draped across the opening and locked to a substantial post on either side. To the left and right of the entrance were piles of rock before a sharp slope in the ground; it dawned on Matt that the property was on a bluff with only one way up and down, its sides were sheer rock faces. ‘Secure as they come ...’ he paused at the cable for a few seconds until a scent wafted to his nose, it was musk, Hoof’s marking. It was the pheromone essence of the beast and Matt could tell he was ready as always. Taking that as the sign to enter, Matt easily made his way over the cable and ambled up the path toward the cabin.

As Matt walked he could tell his was being followed; from his left and right he counted four younger Elk, Deer, and Gazelle. He chuckled and spoke aloud to himself; “Growing quite a sizable herd aren't you old one...”

Matt arrived at the cabin’s front door but before he could reach for the knocker he heard a series of grunts from around the deck to his left. He followed the call, roughly translated it meant ‘Get your cub ass over here, I want it!”. As he turned the corner he saw Hoof sitting on a bench up against the back railing of the deck, legs open, in his majestic half-form his arms resting on the top rail. Matt stood staring in awe of the beast until Hoof finally broke the silence.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you? I hope it isn’t business, that elder of yours is trifling to say the least and it is time for the rut. You know Autumn brings out the beast in me and you’ve arrived at just the right time. Now, tell me ... tell me, why are you here?” He lounged and watched the little Moon-bear.

Matt lowered his head and kicked the ground in front of him, sighing. “I don’t really know. I’m just tired of thinking I am wrong in everything I do. Frustrated really, and a little lost … you know … I-um …”

“Say no more, come with me … you and I need some private time and we can work through some of this. We can’t have our Guardian all messed up in the head with no clear path and weighed down by angst and uncertainty. Besides, I can smell from here that it’s been a while since you’ve had sex or at least masturbated so we’ll take care of that as well. So, young one, are you ready to give in and let yourself go? Are you ready to just be for a while? Are you?” Hoof walked slowly toward Matt letting each word sink in. His antlers were wide this season and his chest was broad, giving him an intimidating presence. His fur was salt and pepper, mixed with the traditional Elk brown. His cock was ample inside its furry sheath, and Matt could already see the bulge forming at its base.

“Leave your clothes here on the porch, turn off any devices you have and rid yourself of attachment. When you’re ready we will start in the sweat hut in the bluff. Go there, I’ll be waiting,” finishing his statement Hoof looked down into Matt's eyes and then walked away leaving him alone.

Matt would have to take the first step and commit to healing and change; he would have to freely let go of all his attachments and doubt to see his path. After a few moments of standing still he allowed himself to open up. His senses pulled back and he let his vision shift, seeing the energy flow in the world around him. The entire area was bathed in blue green light. The bluff where the cabin and grounds rested was a natural nexus of energy and life. It was no wonder that Hoof always looked so good, the energy that bathed him kept him young, viral, and irresistible. .

Matt shrugged off his clothes and left his things in a neatly folded pile on a porch chair. He was very careful to unload his sidearm and secure the blades he was carrying; in total he carried a sidearm, four blades, and two batons. “I’ve got to dial this down a little,” Matt sighed to himself looking over his things and turning to look out over the bluff to the small hut, where smoke was gently rising from its center. He could make out a few other were-creatures tending to things around the hut; this was going to be an adventure for sure.

He made his way around the side of the cabin, and onto the bluff, as he approached he noticed several of the were-creatures tending to firewood and pouring water into the cisterns by the door. When he reached the entrance he lifted the animal hide flaps and stepped inside. The heat that hit him was intense, more so than he had expected. As his eyes adjusted he made out a raised stone area in the center of the room with water flowing through it; a fireplace was on the other side and he could tell the water was circulating through its firebox and back through the slab. Hoof’s voice came to him through the steam, “Get on the slab, rid yourself of your attachments, let go of your life and stop thinking … just BE.”

Matt got up on the table, the heat from it nearly burning his skin. He laid there for awhile drifting in and out of awareness. From time to time an attendant would douse him with ice cold water and add more sage to the smoke pot inside the hut. The smoke lulled him into a dreamy state, not awake but not quite asleep either. Time slipped away as his body relaxed and dehydrated; Hoof knew this wouldn’t kill the Bear but it was going to take an extreme amount of work to get him to heal.

At some point Matt realized the Hoof had moved to his side and oil had been poured over him; three sets of hooves and hands were gently massaging him. The images came to him in waves, like the heat was breaking his sight. Even his sense nature and energy flow seemed to be distorted and off. He tried to speak but Hoof gently pushed two fingers down his throat. Matt responded by sucking softly on his fingers; this sign of release was just what the Elk was waiting for, not wanting to engage the Bear in sex unless he was invited. As intoxicating as Matt’s scent was to him it was a decorum between species to respect each other's wishes and boundaries.

Hoof let Matt suckle on his fingers as he moved toward his head and the front of the slab. The other creatures gently slid Matt to the edge where a half-moon portion had been cut into the rock, allowing his head to lay back over the table. His suckling increased in intensity as the Elk guided his sucking mouth onto his raging hard cock as it edged from its sheath. Hoof's cock oozed a thick yellow fluid that was like nectar to the Moon-bear. Slowly Hoof increase the speed and depth of his thrusts into Matt’s mouth; all the while the other creatures around them rubbed and caressed Matt’s cock and throbbing asshole. Matt had gone so long without a meaningful sexual encounter he had forgotten what it was like, the total giving of a confident partner. The complete animalistic nature of sex with a were-creature was so far outside the scope of what was human, it had no comparison.

This continued for some time. Hoof's huge bulge at the base of his cock had made its way out of its sheath and bumped against Matt;s nose and mouth with each deliberate steady downward thrust. Hoof was impressed that Matt could take the majority of his cock while in his human form, only gagging slightly. The other animals helping Hoof kept Matt right on the edge of orgasm, on the verge of sexual release; letting the tension build and build within the little Bear. The pressure inside of Matt was reaching the point of being painful; his balls ached as his cock swelled.

Through the constant and insistent thrusts of the Elk in his throat, Matt began to beg for release. He tried to move but Hoof was holding him down by his wrists as he thrust rhythmically into his stretched mouth and throat. Hoof would not let him move, would not let him get his way, Matt would learn to let go and just be. After what seemed like an eternity, Hoof let his thrusting come to a slow stop pulling his cock out of Matt’s mouth with a sloppy pop. Looking down at him Hoof smiled and chuckled, the little Bear was covered in Elk musk and saliva froth that had built up in the thrusting.

"Are you ready to be in the moment?" All Matt could do was nod his head. The others stopped their rubbing and slathered him with more oil before flipping Matt over. The ancient elk shifted just a bit further into his half form; this gave his rear legs the musculature he was going to need when mounting the bear.

"Water … please," Matt pleaded.

"No … only after you let go completely. You aren't there yet … now give me that ass, you little fucking Bear!” Hoof shouted as he got on top of Matt, holding him down with his weight, locking and grabbing Matt’s hands and stretching his arms out in front of him. The Elk’s knees dug into his back and his weight locked his legs into place.

"Please … Hoof ..." Matt pleaded weakly the heat, dehydration, and foreplay had done its work; the Guardian was weakened, humbled, and helpless with the ancient Elk on top of him.

"Let go, give into yourself, face your desires … face them,” Hoof grunted through gritted teeth and started sliding his massive, straining Elk cock up and down in the crack of Matt’s ass. Matt continued to wriggle and writhe around trying in vain to get free of the beast that was on top of him. He was struggling so hard and was so weak he would start to morph into his half form but then would revert back to human. Hoof let him wiggle and struggle until Matt started to raise his hips to match his prodding. It was a signal that Hoof was waiting for. "There you go puppy boy, this old Elk is going to breed you like the doe in heat you are ...," he growled and barked as he shifted his weight and slid the tip of his cock into Matt’s well oiled and open ass.

Hoof slid his cock into Matt in one smooth and deliberately, achingly slow stroke all the way to his bulge at its base. The Elk’s cock was engorged past any former point -- Hoof was so wanting the breed Matt, he had wanted the young Bear since meeting him years ago. He was straining against himself to stay focused, to draw it out and to allow Matt to let go, to let him be, but his own internal beast was at the point of winning. This was a test of Hoof’s will and Matt’s inner demons and the Elk was determined to win. Not solely for himself, but for Matt. The Elk’s slow and deliberate thrusting into the Bear was producing a puddle of Bear pre-cum under Matt allowing his raging cock to rub against the slab, bringing him close to orgasm before Hoof was ready to let him have release.

The Elk realized that Matt was right at the point of release, just on the verge of letting go; he was almost there. The wise Elk grunted into Matt's ear, "Reach up and grab my rack. Now you little bitch, puppy boy, do it now!" Wearily, Matt reached up. Guided by Hoof and grabbed a hold of his antlers. Then Hoof cupped the Bear with one hand under his belly and sat up, pulling Matt upward into a semi seated position, still impaled on the Elk’s cock. They settled in with Hoof sitting on the edge of the slab leaning back on his hands and Matt wrapped firmly around his cock holding onto his antlers. Hoof commanded, in a tone that was strained between lust, anger, and love, ”Now boy, you're going to get every inch of my cock in your ass. You’re going to Be! You’re going to to let go of your fear and want it. Tell me you want it, tell me you want your gut filled with my cum. Tell me ... tell me ... tell me."

 Hoof kept commanding as he gently raised Matt up, then dropped him roughly down on his cock. The huge base of the Hoof’s cock edging closer and closer to entry. After a while, the other animals started to throw buckets of cold water on the two, bringing Matt in and out of the dream state he had been lulled into, after three or four buckets of water the base of Hoofs cock slipped inside Matt, firmly locking the two together. Matt orgasmed from the pain and pleasure and finally Hoof let himself cum as well. Matt’s eyes snapped open as the essence of the Elk poured into him. The internal energy from this ancient beast ran through Matt like an electric shock. He and Hoof bonded. Hoof would forever be linked with Matt and Matt with Hoof. They had forged a bonding connection of trust, and friendship.

Hoof collapsed backward onto the slab panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Matt just lay back on top of Hoof’s belly still locked in place by the massive Elk cock. Matt’s voice was weak, mumbling incoherently his eyes opening and closing.

The other animals attending the pair shut off the flow of hot water through the slab and vented the hut. The pair was then washed in cool water to lower their body temperatures and bring them both back to some form of reality. After some time, Hoof’s cock slipped from Matt with an audible pop and Elk cum flowed out of Matt along with gallons of Elk urine; Hoof had urinated inside Matt to allow his cock to relax so he wouldn't hurt the little Bear. The attendants washed the two with a soft lavender and pine soap that reminded Matt of a ladies perfume and after they were washed Hoof, still in half form, scooped Matt up and made his way to the cabin.

"Water?" Matt asked wearily.

"Not until you are healed.” grunted the Elk.

Matt was carried into the central chamber of the cabin, by Hoof still in half form. The space was small but open with a central fireplace, circled with floor cushions from wall to wall. Hoof stopped at the table across from the door before speaking.

“On the table are three choices. All represent letting go of control, and trust in some form. Trust in a friend, a lover, or an enemy it makes no difference. The trust you place in someone must be complete and all consuming so your energy flows true. You must trust the journey to your path. You must let go and trust me not to hurt you, not to kill you, only support and protect you. Now, young guardian, Protector of the Guff... choose!"

tt wearily opened his eyes. For some reason his healing ability was not kicking in like it would normally and he was feeling weak, past the point of exhaustion, edging toward passing out. In front of him were a blindfold, a gag, and a set of restraints. Each of these items represented a different fear for Matt; a guardian must remain free of doubt so that they have clear resolve in action. Having this clear resolve helped with problem solving and getting to the bottom of the problems and challenges Guardians are often called to handle. The blindfold meant that Matt would have to stop looking for problems, he would have to drop his guard and just live in the moment not planning every move he’d make. The gag meant that he could not communicate or ask questions; for him talking and making inquiry was how he tested the water, how he gauged hostiles and non hostiles. The restraints were going to be the hardest for him to deal with. For many years Matt had carried the guttural fear of being tied up and unable to defend himself. With a shaking arm he reached out and grabbed the blindfold. Clutching it to his chest, he looked up into the Hoof’s soft yellow eyes and nodded to him as his bottom lip began to quiver.

“Put it on,” demanded the Elk. Matt hesitated then slid the straps of the blindfold over the back of his head, hesitating just before pulling it down over his eyes. The last thing he saw was the Elk looking at him in a reassuring manner, his eyes full of concern.

Matt could feel he was being laid down on the cushions around the fireplace. The soft crackle of the fire was the only sound he would hear for a while. Slowly, his breathing relaxed and his panic subsided; he was drifting in a state of relaxation, dehydration, and sexual bliss. He could tell that Hoof was laying next to him but for some reason his inner sight was not working. Matt started to sit up in panic when he was yanked down and across Hoof’s lap, face down; at some point a collar and leash had been attached around his neck, it made him panic more, when suddenly a CRACK and a searing pain across his ass snapped him back to pointed, focused, awareness.

“Calm down and lay there until you’re told to move.” The Elk commanded as the paddle he was holding slipped slowly off the back of Matt’s ass, resting on his legs.

“But-” Matt tried to speak, but another crack and searing pain came again from his ass as the paddle slipped slowly back to its resting place.

“The next one’s going across your back. Calm yourself and lay there,” Hoof ordered through a yawn, as if this was all something of an annoyance for him and he wanted a nap. Matt complied, but his mind was racing trying to figure out why his inner sight refused to work, how had the collar and leash been placed around his neck, how Hoof got so fast … and many more rolled through his brain. The spiral of questions that could not be answered was staring to deepen and take over.

“Let yourself just Be without any preconceived thought of what should or will Be,” Hoof said, once again through a yawn and then he started a soft snore. After a while the sound of the Elk's snoring, breathing and the crackle of the fire calmed the Moon Bear and he too drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Matt was startled awake as an tongue was being inserted into his ass roughly. He tried to move and protest but he was yanked back down and over Hoof’s lap again. “I told you to stay,” Hood whacked Matt again, this time twice as hard as the first and brought Matt back to a hyper alert state. His mind raced again, trying to work out the time of day, where he was in relation to everything else in the room, how many animals were in the room with him, on and on his mind tumbled. The tongue that was working his hole did not stop its urgency nor did it waver it its intensity. An Elk’s tongue is longer than a Bear’s and it was hitting spots deep within the little Bear. Matt’s moments of delight were almost instantly canceled out by fear and he jerked as if jolted by something. As the tongue action continued Hoof’s voice started.

“Let go and Be” he softly muttered. Over and over it was repeated. Matt was trying but some part of the Bear would not let himself relax, wouldn’t allow it. “Let go … Let go … Be …” the words repeated over and over, lulling Matt into an almost hypnotic state.

Ever so slowly Hoof slid Matt on top of him, the Bear’s face resting on his massive, softly furred chest. Very slowly and deliberately, leather cuffs were fastened around his hands and feet. Matt was so lulled by the action in his ass that he did not even notice it. Hoof continued mantra, “Let go … Let go … Be … Let go!” very slowly Matt relaxed.

"Shift to your half form, you need to be a Bear young one."

Matt unable to see slowly lifted his head and licked his lips. A long line of drool stretched from Hoof’s chest to the side of Matt’s face. As he went to sit up slightly, he realized he was restrained. Again the panic rose in him. Hoof’s voice was constant, "Let go ... let go … be ... let go.” Matt was tied to Hoof; the huge Elk had slipped into a harness that would lock them both into this eventual future. A lesson for the guardian, an act of true affection and caring for the Ancient One. Hoof knew in his heart that Matt was destined for a great battle and he had to have a clear path, he had to know himself so he could know and help others.

Matt began to struggle and protest making a shift to half form. His teeth and claws came out as he started to attempt to free himself, not realizing what or who was around him. The part of himself that was locked away, the part of him that was taken advantage of, that never healed, a huge chunk of Matt that he never forgave himself for. He had the strength of many in his small body, but that strength was matched by the Elk. They rolled over and about in the living room of the cabin. Matt growled, barked and gnashed his teeth, snapping at any sound. He couldn’t see, his inner sight was not working and he was thrashing around lost and descending into an inner terror that he had never dealt with. Through all this commotion, Hoof was insistent in his mantra, "Let go … be ... let go … let go."

Matt was restrained by his hands, feet, by his neck, torso and his knees. His otherworldly sharp talons were covered with mitts. At last, through his struggling, a gag was roughly forced into his muzzle, forcing his jaws apart and slightly cutting off his air. As time passed, Matt’s struggling subsided, his thrashing slowed, and his breathing settled back to normal from the raspy sucking that it had become. Hoof was bathed in sweat after wrestling with him. The big Elk was always amazed by the strength his little body held, even more now.

In the brief moments between when Matt would stop thrashing around before he would start again Hoof took stock. If it had not been for the wearing down that they did and the stones that were in each corner of the room preventing his sight from working, he doubted that they would have gotten this far.

After hours of rolling around and listening to the Elk, Matt began to relax. He gave in letting himself just be; he was living in the moment and trusting the people around him. He gave into peace. He invited it into his mind. As he settled down, a blue aura started to form around him as he connected to the healing energy of nature. Hoof laid him down and gently unclipped himself from Matt. The harness did its job, it allowed the Elk his hands and feet while restraining the Bear.

Now the mantra changed, "Rest, be, grow, love,”over and over it was repeated. Finally released, Matt laid down on the cushions and opened his eyes for the first time in days. There standing over him was Hoof, still in half form, looking down at him and licking his lips.

"Thank you, I can see clearly now. My path is open."

"Only took you three days ... want some water and food?" Hoof asked.

"In a minute," Matt reached up and grabbed Hoof’s hand and raised himself up, then he started to nuzzle and lick the sheath holding Hoof’s cock. There was a moan from the Elk as the two had deeply connected sex with each other, they were free to explore and have fun; for hours they rolled around. Hoof brought the young Bear to orgasm after orgasm. Matt was left exhausted and sated. After a few more weeks at the bluff, Matt went to get dressed and Hoof met him at the steps.

"Come ‘round anytime young one," said the elk. Trying not to look a little sad the the bear was leaving. They had gotten really close during this time. He knew that Matt would not stay, he was mated to Luke and that was that.

"I will, in one way or another.” replied Matt, looking up at the Elk. Matt really wanted to stay. It would be easy for Matt to just disappear and spend a lifetime at the Bluff, but that was not Matt's calling, duty or purpose.

Matt smiled, walked up to the Elk and kissed his passionately before turning and walking back down the driveway, to the street. There were no were-creatures escorting him as he exited.

As he hopped over the cable, he noticed the shift out of the energy flow and back to the normal world. That bluff was a nexus of energy, and now that Matt had connected to it, he could sense it fully.

Matt found his way back to the airport and then home to Canada. He slipped silently back into the house without being noticed and snuggled into Luke as he was sleeping, the big polar bear in full form cuffed a hello, pulled Matt in close and fell back asleep. There the two would sleep for a while, neither were really wanting to join the world, as long as they were together.

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—

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!

                          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..

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.