No Fine Catch

No Fine Catch

By Papa Werebear, writing as Bjorn Torson

Copyright © 1999-2004 2016 - Bjorn Torson
Any and all re-use prohibited without explicit permission.

"...I'm no great looker; I'm no fine catch..."

Wasn't that part of a line from a Jethro Tull song?  Well, it's certainly true about me and God only knows WHAT Chris sees in me.  God love him, he MUST see somethin' and I'm glad he does.  As I lie here, with the full moon bathin' his beautiful, fully jet-black bearded face in Her pale rays and I think, "Robert Patrick Mahr, you're one lucky son of a bitch!

You're 45, overweight, tattooed, long bearded, dark red headed goin' grey, slightly balding, grumpy, grouchy, greasy, dirty and stinkin' half of the time and this handsome young man LIKES the way you look and has the hots for you even after eleven years.

Who would've thought that 'Hagar the Horrible' would have EVER caught 'Prince Valiant'".  Certainly not me. Chris is so good lookin'.  He's as tall as I am and muscular.  He could have just about any gay man he wanted.

Well, I suppose I do have a FEW charms.  I'm rather nicely muscled; not show quality, but not bad, 6' nothin', a great kisser and hung like a fuckin' stud bull.  But, all the same, Chris and I don't look like a good match on the surface of it.  He's definitely high class and I'm an ordinary guy.  I got a high school education and that's as far as I went.  I'm a voracious reader, though and I've taught myself quite a bit.  I've read books from Shakespeare to Ray Bradbury and from Darwin to Steven Gould.  Of course, I've also read everything from the Kama Sutra to de Sade and beyond too!

He says he loves me exactly the way I am and wouldn't change me if he could.

I've changed him just slightly over the years.  I convinced him he needed a nice Bear tattoo on his left shoulder and to my surprise, he got one a couple of years ago.  I've also noticed his taste in casual clothes has changed from strictly Eddie Bauer to now include jeans, black T-shirts and a nice leather vest that used to be mine, until he appropriated it.  Every year he has me wear it without a shirt for a week or two in the summer.  He says he likes to have the smell of my sweat renewed annually.  The end result was that I had to buy a new vest and break it in.  I don't mind so much, especially since he looks so damn HOT in my old vest and greasy jeans.

Chris is the age now I was when we first met.  He was 26 and I was 34.

I remember the night we met.  It was at a New Year's party at my favorite hang out, "Bruin's".  The "Bruin" in question is a big ol' Teddy Bear of a man named Don Fraizer.  Don, or Grizz to his friends, is a HUGE man.  6'9' of solid muscle, brown-grey beard, beer belly, tattoos and ever present cigar.  He's as intimidatin' as Hell to anyone lookin' for trouble in his bar, but one of the nicest guys I've ever met: loyal to a fault, a true friend and great bed partner.  Grizz and I never got serious over each other, probably because we're too much alike.  But, you don't have to be serious about each other to have a nasty, greasy, Nekkid Bear Wrasslin' good 'ol time!

Grizz owns and operates the bar.  He actually won in a poker game.  When he'd won it, it was really run down.  Ten years of lovin' care and hard work had made it one of the coolest hangouts for everyday guys in town: if not the state.

It was much bigger now, too. He had added on to and rebuilt the place.  He'd lovingly restored the 20's era solid oak bar and brass work.  He added a pool/pinball room and expanded both bathrooms from two stalls to five for each with a trough urinal in the men's side (there was a reason for that) and custom winged HD signs that read "Bros" and "Bitches" on the doors. In one of the corners he'd installed a gorgeous old jukebox that he'd also restored.  The gold plated sign on it read: "Hit the box at your own risk! Grizz".  The few people that did got personally escorted out of the bar, rather roughly and were told never to come back.  If ever he'd needed "back up", there were any number of bro's that were regulars who'd help. Grizz never did, though.

The place is nice, but not fussy, the kind of place you didn't feel you had to dress special or be fresh out of the shower to go to.  It has a rep for bein' a biker bar and quite a few bros DO like to hang out there, but the clientele runs from workin' stiffs, bikers and truckers to college kids and businessmen out for a thrill.  I was the workin' stiff/biker and one Christopher Mc Mahon, "Love of my Life", was the college kid out for a thrill.

It's amazin', even at a really relaxed gatherin', how people segregate into their own little groups and refuse to interact.  Chris was there with his buddies from the local college.  It wasn't all that local at about twenty miles away, but was the nearest one to the bar.  I was there with a couple of the guys from the garage, both nice guys, but neither of them available or interested in me.  They were both VERY straight and had girlfriends on their arms.  For all intents and purposes, I was at this bash alone.  I was even more alone when I found out from Grizz that my buddies had cut out on me, without so much as a fuck off, at around 9:30 or so.  No doubt they'd decided to celebrate elsewhere with their dates and I couldn't blame them.  If an opportunity to fuck as opposed to hangin' out with the guys from work presented itself, you'd better fuckin' believe I'd choose the first option.

I first saw Chris with his buddies at a corner table as I was considerin' all of
this.

I was bitchin' about my dateless status to Grizz.  He offered to take me back to his playroom after hours. It wouldn't be the first time he and I had spent all- night and part of the next day in his master bed room/dungeon.  Grizz was and is definitely one of my favorite bedmates.  I accepted immediately and he got a big ol' grin around his stogie.  I peeked over the bar and noticed his nice sized bulge gettin' bigger.  My grin matched his and I was getting' pretty hard myself.

When he was remodelin' the place, he had a special room built in the bar.  It was in the back by his office with soundproof walls, a heavy door and stout locks.  It was good sized and had a full bathroom attached.  Admission to the playroom was by invitation only, of course, and it comfortably accommodated 4 to 6 Bears.  It included a play area with various leather goods and toys, a small wet bar and a fridge for goodies.  Grizz had a style that only a hedonist possesses and a rich Dad who had died and left him with quite a bit of money.  You'd never know he was worth a couple of million by the way he looked or acted.  I really loved the man and he knew it.

Occasionally I'd look over at Chris, though I didn't know that was his name yet. I'd catch him lookin' at me and as soon as I did, he'd look away.  "Give me another beer Grizz.  Hey, What do ya think of the black bearded kid over in the corner?"

"I think he's pretty good lookin',"  Grizz said. 

"He'd be better lookin' with my dick in his mouth.  Hell, you're better lookin' with my dick in your mouth!" I said, sarcastically.

"Thanks, bro'!" We both chuckled.

“Seriously, you think he's interested?"  I sipped my beer.

"Don't know... maybe.  His eyes aren't on the babes the way his buddy's are,"  Grizz said with a puff.  "I'll keep an eye out an' see if he looks interested; see if he's checkin' you out... though I can't imagine why he'd be interested in an ugly fat fucker like you!" 

I flipped Grizz off and we both grinned.  "Later bro', after hours!" 

Grizz chuckled around his cigar. "I guess if he IS interested were off for tonight, huh."

  "Fuck, no!" I said. "I'll talk him into a threesome!"

"You're one Hell of a guy, bro'!" Grizz chuckled.

"Hey, I wouldn't turn down a buddy for a tight young ass; but I wouldn't give it up either,"  I said.  "No need for anyone to lose out, right bro'." 

"You know it, bro'!"

I paid for my beer andwent into the poolroom and got into a friendly game with some of the other bros.  I was well acquainted with some of them and casual friends with some of the others.  Grizz and I had gone up to Sturgis with a few of them.  While one of the other guys was shooting, I went to take a piss.  Grizz had installed trough urinals and there was method to his madness.  After all, if two guys are at a trough urinal, they can see each other's cocks and Grizz liked to check the guys out.  He knew how big each guy in the bar was, it was kinda a hobby with him.  In fact, that's how he knew I was interested in him, we fucked the first night I visited the bar because of it.

Pusing the door open, I went inside.  I was alone, fishin' out the hose, when someone came in behind me.  I turned to look and it was the kid with the black beard.  I suspected he had been waitin' for his chance to get me alone and I was more than happy to give him the opportunity.  He walked right up, unzipped, whipped it out and began pissin'.  I glanced over and saw that the kid was fairly well hung too and was massagin' his cock as he pissed.  I figured he was about eight inches or so. 

Now, I'd had quite a few beers, seven or eight since we'd gotten to the place at six o'clock and this was the first time I'd taken a leak. I like piss, so I like havin' a maximum capacity bladder.  I stretch it out by drinkin' and holdin' it for hours longer than I have to.  I'm no lightweight, so I wasn't even feelin' what I had had.  I was standin' there, lettin' a thick stream of rank Bear piss fly and I notice the kid is lookin' over at my cock.  I turned my head toward him and he didn't stop lookin' like most guys would.  He met my gaze and I smiled.  "Like what you see?" I growled.  If he'd been skittish, that would have scared him off.  It didn't; and that brought him up about twenty notches in my estimation of him.  Calmly, looked at me with his deep blue eyes and said "Yes."

The kid had balls!  That turned me on.  What he did next turned me on even more. He reached over and grabbed hold of my cock with one hand.  He cupped his other hand and held it under my stream of dark yellow Bear whizz.  I filled his hand and cut off the flow, even though it stings like Hell to stop in mid-leak; if this was goin' where I thought it was and this kid was a pig for piss, I wasn't wastin' any more kidney brew down the drain.  He lifted his hand to his mouth and drank it down, starin' me in the eye as he did so.

I was semi hard when he grabbed my cock, but seein' this Cub drink my rank Bear brew had me full on stiff. He was hard as a rock, too.  He licked his lips when he was done and was about to say somthin' when we heard someone comin'.  We zipped up as one of his buddies came in.  I could tell I intimidated the guy, so I washed up and so did the kid.

I'd have to get Grizz to help.  We each left the can and went to our separate corners.  He went back to the corner table and I went back to the pool table, I'd almost completely forgotten about the game.  Next chance I got, I went back to the bar.  "Grizz, give me four more beers, no make that six, one right after the other.  Here's the green bro'"

"What's up bro'?" he asked. 

"The kid..."

Grizz interrupted me, "His name is Chris, bro', I overheard when they were gettin' a pitcher." 

"OK... Chris is a piss hog bro," I said quietly, so his buddies wouldn't hear

"No shit?" Grizz chuckled.

"Yeah, he put his cupped hand under my stream and I filled it. Then he drank it down without flinchin'.  I gotta top off the tank." 

Grizz grinned and took a deep drag on his cigar.  "Guess I'll tank up too.  Hell, even if he turns you down, we'll have some fun." 

"That's what I like about you Grizz, you're such a positive thinkin' guy!"  Grizz was roarin' with that.  "You mind if I invite Chris to our after hours party in your 'Den do ya?" 

"Oh, fuck, no!"  he said. 

"Mind if I start the party before closin'?" I locked eyes with Grizz.

 “You're really in need of a good fuck, aren't you?  It's not a problem, bro'.  I figure you two'll be all cuddled up and smoochin' by the time I close.  That'll give me the chance to get everythin' shut down and locked up.  Then I can strip down and join you two." He wiped the counter and smiled  "That'll add some spice to it.  Don't let him know.  I'd like to surprise him" 

"Is the guest key in the usual place, bro'?"  I asked. 

"Yep, the breaker box in the store room." 

"If anyone asks about the can, tell them that someone ralphed on the floor in there and you'll clean it up in a minute.  I want to get Chris alone for a bit, so I'll put up the "Closed" sign and lock the door. “ Over the next thirty minutes or so, I downed six beers and even though I'm not a lightweight, I was feelin' pretty mellow. With that I went huntin' Cub.

Around eleven or so I managed to get Chris alone in the bathroom.  I put the sign up and locked the door.  "Look," I said, "I'm a straight forward guy, so I'm gonna cut through the preliminaries.  I want to fuck you and I think you want me to.  Am I right?"

"Well, yes." he said "But, there are two things I need to know first.  What's your name?"

I grinned. I was so horny I didn't even introduce myself.  "The name's Bob.  Bob Mahr."

He smiled.  "Nice to meet you, Bob.  You're one Hell of a good-looking Bear, but I'm sure you know that.  I'm Chris Mc Mahon." He looked at me, head tilted to one side slightly.

"What's the other thing you needed to know?" 

"This,"  he said as he moved his mouth to mine.  I started deep kissin' him like I was fuckin'. We grabbed each other's crotches and kissed until we were pretty well worked up.

I broke the kiss and asked, "Well, did that satisfy your curiosity?" 

"Yes, that's all I needed to know.  My Mom always said if I found someone I was interested enough in to consider dating, I should make sure that she was a good kisser.  Well, Mom doesn't know I'm gay... yet.  What's the plan?  I saw you talking to the barkeep and I guessed he was in on it."  He grinned a beautifully wicked grin. 

"You're pretty damn smart, Cub!"  I chuckled. 

"Well, if not that, I'm at least observant,"  he said. 

"The plan is as follows: You and I are goin' to sneak off to a special room Grizz has in the back.  We can make all the fuckin' racket we want to back there and no one's gonna be the wiser.  It's sound proof." 

"Nice!" he said, massaging his hard-on.

"Grizz knows about it.  He'll tell your buddies that you went off with a girl.” Just then, Grizz came in with a mop bucket. 

"You two finished?  I can only have them use the Women's can for so long,"  Grizz said.

"We finished talkin'?" I asked Chris. 

"Yes.  Let's go fuck."  Chris grinned. 

"I like him Bob, he's got his priorities straight!"  Grizz said and we all laughed.  "You two get on back into the store room, I'll see if the coast is clear first."

We managed to get back to the storeroom unobserved.  After about five minutes of French kissin' and gropin' we moved it into the "Den".  Chris was wide-eyed when he saw the place.  "I've never been in a playroom before." he said as he looked at the various toys and leather. 

"Strip down, Cub."  He did and the kid was really good lookin', for a Cub.  He had a fair amount of black fur on his chest, belly and butt, a bit of Cub fat and lots of muscle.  I could tell that with ten years more on him he'd be a well-built, well-furred Papa Bear; especially if I had a hand in sculptin' his body.  I continued talking to him as I began to strip, "Grizz and I have been workin' on the right smell of the mattress and grunge of the sheets for the last five years.  That bed's full of Bear musk and the sheets smell of cigars, Bear cum, Bear sweat and Bear piss.  Jump on in and wallow in the scents." 

He did just that, he pushed his face into a bunched up sheet and was inhalin' deeply.  I could see the bliss in his eyes as he took in years of accumulated raunchy Bear odor.  I was drippin' pre-cum all over the place.  I jumped on that stud Cub, lubed his ass with a cup of pre cum and I was up inside him before he had a chance to pull the sheet from his face.  Instead he yelled into the sheet as I shoved my huge cock up his hole.

I was a plunderin' Viking and I had just invaded his body., ready to sack and pillage.  I guess I really am a "Hagar the Horrible".  I wanted to take him hard and fast.  I wanted to rough fuck him.  After a minute or so, he really started gettin' into it.  His cock grew from about eight inches to a good ten or so.  He was hung almost as well as I was.  He was rock hard and dribblin' pre-cum all over his thick belly fur.  He was gruntin' and growlin' just like I was.  He started bitin' me and I started bitin' back.  We were gnawin' on each other's arms and necks.  He started bitin' and suckin' on my furry nipples and I returned the favor.  I was gettin' close to the edge and started backin' off; this was our first fuck and I didn't want it to be over in ten minutes.

I started tp slow fuck him, long, dickin' and deep kissing.  Sweat began drippin' off of me and I rubbed my furry, sweaty body all over my Cub to mark him with MY scent.  If I put my mind to it, I can stay hard for more than an hour while fuckin' and not cum `til I'm ready.  Chris wasn't as disciplined, then; now he can go as long as I can.  He says I taught him a "valuable technique", I say I taught him the pleasure of extended fuckin'.  Twenty minutes or so into it, he shot his load all over my chest and into my beard.  I loved it.  I massaged it into my fur and rubbed it into my beard.  I began rubbin' my sticky fur into his furry chest as I hard humped and deep kissed him again.  In no time flat he was rock hard again.  I told him to open his mouth.  When he did, I began droolin' into it.  He loved that!

I fucked Chris for another twenty minutes or so and finally decided I wanted to get my rocks off.  I picked up the tempo and told him to suck and bite my nipples.  He did so and added a bonus; he started pissin' all over himself and me.  I was already hotter than a Bear in heat, but when he started pissin', it pushed me over the edge.  I started loosin' control.  I was humpin' him hard and fast.  Suddenly I was pumpin' him full.  I trembled all over like I was a huge vibrator and someone had just turned me on.  I poured myself into him and he took every drop.  I'd been horny all week and I was savin' up by not jackin' off so I'd be ready to possibly fuck Grizz at the New Year.  Now Chris was gettin' the loads I'd been savin' all week long for Grizz.  I never thought I was gonna stop.  Chris moaned and came YET AGAIN!  I thought, "The Kid must be a Satyr." I had no idea that he REALLY was at the time and I didn't know how lucky I had just gotten.

I pulled out and collapsed on top of him.  We reeked of piss and sex.  We kissed some more and fell asleep in each other's arms, not carin' that we'd missed the beginnin' of the New Year.  The New Year was already MUCH better than the last.

We both woke to a big rough Bear paw grabbin' our dicks.  Grizz loomed over us with a cock in each hand and his own huge pole standin' straight up.  Grizz is a gorgeous Bear.  He has a thick brown pelt, a huge dick and nice, large, low hangin' balls.  "Lookie what I found here!  A Bro' can't get any luckier than findin' two good lookin' Bears in his bed!"  He spred Chris' legs apart and sunk is greased up dick deep into him. 

Chris grunted. Loud. "Oh, God!"

"You like that, Bro'?"  Grizz grinned around his huge cigar and puffed smoke in Chris' face. 

Chris grunted out, "Yes!  It hurts... but don't stop."  With that, I put my dick in Chris' mouth and he started suckin' hard and playin' with my balls, gruntin' as he did.  I knew what he wanted.  My bladder was at maximum capacity and hurt like Hell.  I started emptyin' into the Cub and he gulped the rank Bear brew down.  It felt so damned good to piss; I almost came from the pleasure of the pissin' alone.  When I was empty, I was hard and Chris kept on suckin'.  After our nap, I figured I could give him one more load.  Grizz was gruntin' and pumpin' his ass hard.  I grabbed Chris' cock and started jackin' him slowly. 

The three of us Bears gruntin', groanin' and growlin' together, satisfyin' each other's hunger, was wonderful.  Grizz came up inside Chris' ass at about the same time I came in his mouth.  Grizz then got a blissful look on his face "I love to piss up a nice tight ass!" he said. 

"Save some for me, bro'!"  I said. 

"Don't worry, you'll get yours!"  I dove on Chris' hard cock and sucked for all I was worth.  Chris went into spasms and filled my mouth with fresh, hot Cub cum.  While I was busy with Chris, Grizz pulled out of him, spread my ass and rammed his cock up inside of me.  He was good and slick from the cum he'd just pumped into Chris.  I felt the warmth of his piss spreadin' inside of me.  "Ah!  I love pissin' in your ass too, bro'."  After pissin', he fucked me until he came again.

Chris and I went to the can and dumped our loads, came back and crawled into bed with Grizz, one of us on each side of him.  I took the cigar out of his mouth and started puffin' on it while Grizz deep kissed Chris.  Grizz took back the cigar and he and I kissed.  Chris and I lay there runnin' our hands all over Grizz' great furry body.  I took hold of his stiff dick and jacked him off for a long time.  Finally, he shot all over his furry chest and belly.  Chris and I lapped it out of his fur, sucked his nipples, and each of us tongue bathed his furry pits and crotch.  Grizz had achieved Nirvana in the New Year.

After a while, Grizz reached over to the nightstand and put out his cigar in the ashtray.  We all started driftin' off to sleep.  Chris and I nestled down with our heads restin' in the big Bearman's pits.  His big furry arms were wrapped around both of us.  Grizz sighed contentedly as I put my hand on his balls and Chris laid his arm across his big furry chest, gently playin' with his right nipple.

I woke the next mornin' with my left hand full of Bear balls.  Grizz and Chris were snorin' away.  I woke Grizz with a blow job.  Chris woke and started suckin' on Grizz' balls.  "That's the nicest fuckin' way to be woke up."  He sighed as he ran his fingers through our hair. 

We spent the rest of mornin' havin' nasty Bear sex and lovin' every raunchy minute of it.  We all showered together, havin' more sex in the shower, got dressed and went out to a huge steak lunch at one of Grizz' favorite diners, his treat.  Chris and I held hands under the table like newly weds and I guess that's what we were since we've been together ever since.  Grizz thought we were "Just too fuckin' cute."  I could tell he was really happy for the both of us and we let him know that he was in no way excluded from sex with either one or the both of us.  He said it was the perfect arrangement; Chris and I had each other and he had two horny buddies who liked casual rough fuckin'.

Grizz always said he wasn't after a relationship, but two years later he fell in love with a burly salt and pepper bearded biker named Lou.  I'd never seen him so intense about anyone before.  Those two argue all the time, but they really love each other and I think they actually enjoy arguin'.  Now, the four of us get together and have "Bad Bear" sex in Grizz' den.

Chris finished up his doctorate in genetics and is workin' for an up and comin' genetic engineering company.  We make an odd pair, especially at parties, but it works for us.

So here I am at 2:30 in the mornin' after a couple of hours of GREAT sex with the most handsome, horny, Bear-Satyr on the face of the planet.  He's filled out nicely over the last eleven years.  He's a solid chunk of Bear and absolutely COVERED in thick black fur.  That vest of mine fits him perfectly now, he fills it out as well as I do.

The Bear tattoo on his shoulder is harder to see with all the fur grown back over it.  It was a birthday present for me and for himself too; it's very well done.  It's of a red furred, long-bearded biker Bear dressed in MY ridin' gear on MY Harley. 

"I think it looks just like you!" Chris said, and it really does.  The artist used a photo of me on my scoot to create the caricature.  "Now I can have you with me wherever I go., he said.  The guy's an artist; I'm plannin' to get some more ink done as soon as I decide what I want.  I'm thinkin' about getting' one of Chris as a Bear.

I look at Chris' beautifully bearded face, feel the warmth of his ursine body next to me and realize that he makes me happier than anything and anyone else in my life... and I still don't know what he sees in me!

Meyers and Sons Paint and Auto Body - Chapter 8

Meyers and Sons Paint and Auto Body

By Papa Werebear and Ursus Major

Chapter 8

Ron struggles to wakefulness, the taste of salt on his tongue. His half-changed face is damp with tears. “Damn it!” he cursed softly. He’d been dreaming of his adopted daddy, the bearman who’d taken in a young orphaned human boy.

In the dream, Daddy is in half form, standing behind him, teaching him how to shave. The scene quickly changes to Daddy fucking him right there in front of the mirror in full bear form. He sees himself begin to mature, his face becoming older, his mustache growing thicker and stubble covering the cheeks and chin. He grows taller, broader, more muscular and fully pelted as his Daddy growls and grunts behind him. Daddy was shooting load after load into him, like he was inflating and aging him with his cum.

“I love you Daddy!” he says to the bear in the mirror.

“And Daddy loves his Cub, and always will,” the bear says.

The scene changes again and now he is holding his Daddy in his arms, his strong body mangled by the accident, his head and spine crushed by the head-on collision with the truck. He howls in grief looking into his lifeless eyes. He’s been orphaned a second time, and this time is just as painful as the first. He looks to the heavens, calling on the God of Bears; but this day, he is silent. But then, in the illogic of dreams, his daddy reaches up to pull his head down to lock his eyes with him. He is whole again, he is unhurt again, and he is alive again!

He cups his Cub’s bearded cheek and says, “Never forget: Daddy loves his Cub, and always will!”

Ron smiles he laughs, and his eyes fill with tears of joy, “I love you too, Daddy. I love you so much,” he says and kisses his mate.

And then he’d awoken, bawling, the hurt in him dull but still heavy and yes, still there and probably always would be. His Daddy was gone, again! He’d crossed over into The Great Forest where The Ancestors dwelled. He knew in his heart that, had he not been adopted by Daddy, that Daddy would likely have stayed completely feral and might still be living in the forests somewhere, but he also knew that he himself would not be what he was today, and that his life would be greatly diminished.

“Someday Daddy… someday I’ll find my way to your den,” Ron said, wiping the tears from his cheeks, now changed back to their bearded human shape. “Why the Hell do I always have to have this dream when I’ve got a new Cub?” he said rhetorically. He knew the answer, having worked that out long ago.

He got out of bed and padded into the next bedroom. In the glow of the moonlight, he beheld them both. He smiled, looking down in the large, soft bed. Cuddled up to his eldest son, Bubba, was his youngest. They were both so beautiful, peacefully snoring together. How had he been so lucky? All of his boys were so beautiful and what wonderful men and bears they were! He thought about his own Daddy as he softly stroked Bubba’s bearded cheek. “I love you Old Bear, and I always will”, he whispered.

Tomorrow, well later today, was going to be a big day for Cody. Ron was musing as he watched his boys. Cody was almost as big as Bubba now. The young man had grown to his full pre-transformation potential. There would be his final growth spurt during his change which will probably make him taller, and likely more beefy than Bubba. Cody’s circle beard was full, his stubble only four hours old had darkened his face from just below his eyes down his neck to his chest and it was yet to be as thick as it soon would be. Still, he had a thick, curly mat of chest hair and a light coating on his shoulders, arms, legs and back.

They lay there together, sleeping peacefully, with a sheet draped over their midsections. Their furry bodies were entwined. Bubba’s left leg between Cody’s legs, both laying on their right side, Bubba’s bearded face nuzzled into Cody’s neck, both arms hugging him like Cody was a big teddy bear. Ron stroked his cock, thinking how his own daddy had slept with him that way, that first winter long ago. He missed his old man.

Ron watched as Bubba began, snuffling Cody in his sleep and then began shifting form. He must be in a lighter level of sleep and Cody’s stronger pre-transformation scent was causing Bubba’s change. The near werebear scent could spark that change in sleeping werebears. It had in Ron for the first hundred years or so; it brought out the beast to protect the new werebear. It also meant that Bubba would be awake in the next few minutes with the need to breed.

Ron walked over to the side of the bed, gently rolling Bubba over onto his back. He tilted the sleeping werebear’s muzzle toward his crotch, opened it with his index finger and gently slid his stiff, tool into his son’s warm, wet muzzle. Instinctively Bubba began to nurse his daddy’s cock. Ron growled softly as he began to face fuck his eldest. Bubba’s brown bear eyes opened, looking up at his daddy, an ursine smile spreading across his muzzle as he suckled with more talent now that he was awake.

“Good morning, son,” Ron whispered, “Daddy’s awake and horny and wants to fuck his boys.”

Bubba reached around and grabbed a paw full of white furred daddy butt. Simultaneously, he began patting Cody’s chest to wake him, as his right arm was still under his sleeping brother. Cody woke up, rolled over and saw the gorgeous sight of his Daddy and brother, beginning a fresh round of bear sex.

It wasn’t long before Bubba’s half-form cock was down Cody’s throat and Ron’s fully changed pole was buried deep in his ass. Ron's cock felt the heat of Cody's inside and the familiar welcome tingle of a gathering ejaculation filled Ron's crotch. Bubba's meat swelled inside his new brother's mouth as he pumped and growled. The room was filled with the heady scents and sounds of urgent bear sex. Ron's urge boiled up in him, and Bubba was following Ron lead. Both bears felt their seed rise, hot and thick, and the bed shook as both Bubba and Ron shot together, filling Cody at both ends with thick fountains of bear seed.

After satisfying their mutual needs, Ron pulled his sons close to him, Cody on the left, Bubba on the right. “Today’s a big day for you, Son,” he said, “In about an hour and a half, we got to hit the road on the way to the cave and your first change. So, we all need to get showered up and you,” Ron scratched at Cody’s stubble “do you need Daddy to shave you?”

“Yes please, Daddy!” Cody said and kissed Ron and then Bubba before he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. He turned back and paused, looking at Ron and Bubba. “Aren’t you coming?”

“In a minute, Son” Ron said. “Warm up the water, we’ll be in in a minute... and shut the door.”

Cody shut the door, turned on the shower, and got in.

“So, have you got the surprise ready?” Ron said very softly to Bubba, realizing that Cody’s hearing had improved over the last couple of months.

“Yeah, Daddy; me, Nick and Uncle Charlie got it covered.” Bubba smiled.

Ron growled and gave his son a kiss, “I knew you’d take care of it. Now, let’s get into that shower.”

By the time Ron, Bubba, and Cody were finished showering, the rest of Ron's sons had arrived. The group would set out for the cave as Cody and Bubba had done weeks before. The difference this time was that Cody was in no condition to ride his Harley and so would be a passenger in Bubba’s pickup.

Cody, in only an hour after Ron had come into join him and Bubba in bed, felt like he was coming down with the most horrible flu imaginable. His body ached from head to toe, particularly his joints; he felt like he had toothaches in all his teeth and he had throbbing dull pain even in the backs of his eyeballs and light sensitivity which required his darkest pair of sunglasses. His skin felt too tight, and his muscles twitched,. He was running a low grade fever and sweating, making him smell of his own newly developed bear musk. He had a mild headache, even his balls ached dully and, to top it all off, he had occasional annoying itches here and there all over his body.

Ron knew what it was, and it wasn’t a super flu; in probably less than twelve hours now, Cody was going to change for the first time. He’d been packing on weight the last few weeks and a good portion of that was muscle, but there was enough fat on him to fuel his change. He had grown out of his other clothes and had just started taking to wearing his coveralls (which he was filling out nicely) most of the time or whatever his older brothers offered him as hand me downs. It was good to have BIG brothers! He got sweatshirts and sweatpants, which were favorites as were big, loose shorts and well-worn T-shirts. Most of them didn’t even pass through the washing process before Cody would put them on; he DID like the scents of his bear brothers.

“Here, take this!” Ron said and handed Cody a four big pills and a bottle of water.

“Are these pain meds?” Cody asked and, as he said it, his voice cracked like a teen’s would and dropped into a new lower register making him sound almost like Ron.

Cody got a surprised look on his face and Ron smiled. He liked Cody’s new voice. It was deep and mellow and sexy like his own.

“Welcome to second puberty, Son!” Ron said and patted him on the shoulder, “Doc Irons is, shall we say, a specialist and sympathetic to our condition. He’s… one of us…” Ron adjusted his crotch and continued, “You young’uns are lucky; when Daddy changed me this stuff didn’t exist and if it had I couldn’t have gotten any, anyway, at least where we were then. It’s a mild sedative and rather strong analgesic. It should mostly have worn off by the time we reach the cave and it’s likely you’ll feel better by then anyway; what’s happening to you is your body gearing up for what’s to come. The pills will help with the pain and allow you to sleep on the way. It will also allow you to sleep through the itching.”

At the mention of the itching Cody growled, as it reminded him his back itched, “Aw! Why’d ya hafta say itching?” He rumbled and reached around, trying to satisfy it. Ron moved around behind him and started giving him a most satisfying back scratch that caused his cock to become fully erect. After a minute of much pleasurable grunting, there was a large wet spot forming on the front of the pair of Bubba’s old sweats that Cody wore.

Cody growled out in his now deepened, roughened voice, “Fuck, Papa, I need to jack!” and he reached for his crotch.

“NOPE!” Ron said and smacked his hand away from his crotch, “No sex for you until we reach the cave and the time is right. Remember, I get the last of the old seed and the first of the new from you, Daddy’s privilege; so no spilling any of it beforehand! Now take your pills, should make you sleepy in about five minutes.”

Cody got in the truck, downed his pills, fastened his seat belt, rolled down the window, and lay back in the reclining seat. He closed his eyes and occasionally scratched at an arm or a leg, trying to focus on something other than the aches and itches or how warm he felt or how horny he was. Ten minutes later Cody was out like a light.

Ron pulled up on his scoot next to Bubba’s window.

“You ready?” he asked his eldest son around a fat cigar he was just beginning to light.

“Yeah, all the beer, mead and food’s packed up in the ice chests in the back,” he nodded toward Cody who snored lightly, “How much did you give him?”

“Four.” Ron said as he puffed his cigar to life.

“FOUR!?” Bubba said in a raised voice. “Those aren’t exactly children’s aspirin, you know!”

Ron gave Bubba a look that said, ‘Daddy knows best’ and continued, “Son, as fast as his symptoms came on this morning I figure he’s a bit different, metabolism wise, than most of the rest of you; more like Nick, maybe even more so. Remember, I gave Nick one pill and he was awake half way there bugging the crap out of you with his itching and complaining about how achy and horny he was. I want Cody to be out for the duration. We’ll have him on the altar and chained down while he’s asleep and when he wakes up, we can begin.”

Bubba grinned, “Wish I’d been drugged and passed out before I was chained down to the altar… that’s kinky and hot in a B movie kinda way!”

Ron laughed, “You say that every time you get a new brother. You know… I really hadn’t thought about it before, but how about we do that for you sometime as a surprise? I know it’s not the same as it being your first time, but it could be fun all the same. We could slip you the sedative and when you pass out, haul your butt up to the cave, chain you down and do all sorts of bad things to you. Would you like that?”

“For my birthday? Huh? Huh? Please?” Bubba asked enthusiastically.

“Maybe… or maaaaybe we’ll just do it when you’re not expecting it.” Ron grinned around his stogie.

“Ooooo!” Bubba said, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and pointing the butt end at his Papa, “You sneaky ol’ bear! Of COURSE it’s even better if I don’t know when!”

Ron nodded, “Exactly.”

“I can’t wait for you guys to take advantage of me!” Bubba’s eyes were merry.

“Sure! We can do the whole abducted and biker gang raped scene if you like.” Ron chuckled at Bubba’s childlike excitement.

“Like? Hells, I’m fuckin’ horny as Cody now!” Bubba said, putting his cigar back in his mouth and rubbing his hands together.

“Alright, well, we’ll plan this out for you later, but right now we need to hit the road.” Ron said.

“Lead the way!” Bubba said as Ron kick started his Fatboy.

The bikes roared as Ron and his sons hit the road. They all moved with speed, the wind drowning conversations for those on their bikes. Bubba, in the pick-up, watched Cody; but there was no conversation possible with his snoring brother. The scent of their about-to-change brother made them all horny as hell, and no one wanted to waste any time in getting to the cave. Each knew they would have their chance at Cody's ass, but also would get to experience his meat in their asses, too. Cody had developed into a handsome fucker, beefy and furry; each of his brothers wanted to fuck and be fucked by him. Like all werebears, they responded sexually to the scent of their close kin. It was part of the kinship bond, and as undeniable as the in-bred instinct to protect their own kind when confronted with danger.

They passed few cars on the way to the cave. When they pulled into Charlie's yard and dismounted, Charlie was there on the porch with his sons, Buck and Zed, waiting. In short order all of the bikes were parked at the back of the deceptively small-looking garage at the back of the property, and covered with tarps. Bubba parked his pickup next to the rusted old hulk that Charlie was perpetually restoring, and helped Cody out. Charlie closed the rickety doors and clicked the rusty-looking lock. “OK, boys, let's make tracks.”

Buck nudged Charlie. Cody was still groggy and clearly unable to walk far under his own power. “What's up with him?”

“Daddy gave him something to help with the pain and itching. Slows down his change some, and makes him groggy. Personally, I didn't want him changing for the first time in the truck on the road.” Bubba scratched his head and looked at Ron. “So, how do we get him up to the cavern?” Ron shrugged with a smile.

“He's gotten bigger... and heavier,” said Jeff. “I ain't carrying him. If we put him between us, maybe he can walk some.”

“Nah, look at him, he's out again,” Nick said, as Cody sagged to the ground next to Bubba.

“Oh, hell, give him here, I'll tote him up to the cavern. Drape him 'crost my shoulders.” Charlie looked mildly irritated at the indecision around him.

“I got an idea,” Zed said, and disappeared around the corner of the cabin. He reappeared in a couple of minutes with a large wheelbarrow.

“A wheelbarrow? That's your idea?” Buck snorted.

“Sure! We can take turns wheeling him up!” Zed said brightly. Buck snorted again.

“Well, do you wanna carry him?” Zed asked, irritated and looking sideways at his brother. “'Cause, you know that's what'll happen. Daddy'll get to jawin' with Uncle Ron and we'll end up doin' the liftin'.”

And in the end, that was how Cody got to the Bear Clan's cavern. Bill and Bob took point while the others took turns wheeling the still dozing Cody. Charlie and Ron followed behind, trading gossip and information about other werebears and generally catching up with each other's doings.

The group marched steadily along, shifting from dusty path to dusty path. Each path was marked with No Trespassing signs, and appeared to peter out into a dead end. Bill and Bob shifted just enough to keep sharpened senses alert. None of them wanted to run into trespassing hikers or bikers. Their passage was uneventful, and a little more than an hour later, they arrived at the concealed entrance to the cave. Bill and Bob checked the surrounding area thoroughly, and then entered the cave. A few minutes later they emerged, giving the all-clear. Cody was levered out of the wheelbarrow and helped inside while Bill and Bob concealed the wheelbarrow with brush and some rocks. They shifted into full bear form and peed all around the entrance area and down the paths a ways, confident that the pungent smell of their urine would serve as an effective warning to any animal life in the area to stay away. Bladders empty, they went back into the cavern.

The altar was in the center of the round cavern. It was still dimly lit, mostly by the lanterns Bubba and Ron had carried. Roughly rectangular in shape, the top surface and edges had obviously been carefully smoothed and polished. It was oriented in such a way that the long axis was in line with the niche where the statue of Bahonu was located. Along both long sides of the altar stone were fastenings, three per side, and set closer to the head end of the stone. The base end had two slight depressions, side by side. From one of the bags they had carried in, Jeff pulled out three long leather belts and began to thread them through the fittings on one side of the altar stone. While he was doing this Bill and Jeff began lighting the torches around the outside edge of the chamber. The flickering light cast dancing shadows on the walls, so that it looked like a tribe of large men we dancing in the light.

Charlie and his boys had already stockpiled a great deal of food and drink in the cave in anticipation of the ceremony, but the bears had carried some bags with last-minute additions to the menu along with some perishables. While Bubba and Ron watched over Cody, the rest of the bears stripped off their clothes and distributed the supplies in the antechambers that surrounded the central part of the cavern. Suddenly, Cody jerked awake.

“I feel really weird.” The soon-to-be bear's voice betrayed his concern.

“It's OK, son. Your first change is starting, but we'll all be here to help. Here, shuck your clothes. Bubba, put them over there with yours.” Ron quickly shed his clothes as well. Once Cody was naked, Ron gave him a prolonged hug and said, “We'll get you on the altar stone now.” Ron turned to Jeff and Bill. “Help me and Bubba here. Take his legs and lift up onto the altar.” The four bears hefted Cody up onto the Altar stone, laying him down with his head at the top of the stone, closest to Bahonu's statue, and his legs over the opposite end of the stone.

Once his body was on the altar, Jeff and Bill looped the leather belts over his body and fastened them loosely to the fittings on the opposite side of the altar. “Be sure you give him room to grow, now. He won't try to get out now, will you, son?” Ron was close by Cody's head, and rested a hand on his chest.

“No, Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Ron said and moved to the foot of the altar. He motioned for all the other bears to join him. The naked bears, except Cody, stood in a semi-circle, facing the statue of Bahonu. Each gripped his own cock and began to jack, not holding back or taking their time. Ron spoke the time-honored words.

“Mighty Bahonu, protector of us all, father of all werebears, we bring you a new bear brother. Share our joy in our new brother, and accept this new bear as you have accepted those who have gone before. Be with us and deep within us, as we are within each other and our new brother. Be with him and deep within him as he joins himself to us.” By this time, the bears were all close to shooting. Ron stepped up the pace, and the others took their cue from him. “Mighty Bahonu, accept our seed as token of our loyalty, to you and to each other. Feel our joy as we cum, and share that joy with us.”

With that, Ron shot several thick ropes of bear seed at the foot of Bahonu's statue. Each of the other bears in the semi-circle shot in turn, mixing their seed with Ron's. Charlie shot last with a heavy grunt. They all stood there, panting a bit when loud growling from behind them made them turn. Cody was starting to change.

Bubba looked at Ron. “Daddy, you need to get his last seed.”

“And soon, it seems,” Ron growled, moving into position between Cody's legs. Cody was thrashing around in the loose restraints, but the belts were tighter than they had been even a few moments ago. Cody's body was rapidly growing and stretching, with audible cracks and snapping sounds as bones grew and ligaments realigned.

“Son, I know you can still hear and understand me. I am going to take your last human seed. You'll feed me like you have before, but for the last time as a human man. I'll drink the last of your human cum, and then the first of your werebear seed.” Cody made no response except to growl and thrash and strain at the belts. Fur was beginning to sprout around his neck, joining his head and chest hair. Ron leaned forward and took Cody's semi-erect penis in his mouth and began to slurp and work the shaft with his tongue and lips.

Almost instantly, Cody began to calm down, thrashing less. The familiar feel of his daddy's mouth, the feel of his cock growing bigger as it always did when his daddy sucked him, had a soothing effect on the turmoil in his brain. The pains from his muscles and joints were somehow more bearable. He stopped straining at the belts and at one point put his thickening legs up on his daddy's back. Ron continued to work his cub's cock with his mouth, alternately massaging Cody's balls with one hand, and working a meaty finger from the other hand into his anus. Suddenly, Cody surged upwards, thrusting himself into Ron's warm mouth. At the same time, a muffled, almost strangled cry emerged from his mouth.

“Nnunghaaaaaaahhhhhgh!” Cody surged upwards again and shot the final load of his human seed into his daddy's mouth. The last of his human legacy, the last product of his now rapidly changing testicles, hit the back of Ron's throat. Ron swallowed, and rose up and moved quickly to Cody's head. The other bears surrounded the altar, each changing into full bear form as they watched closely. Ron held Cody's head in hands that were rapidly changing into paws.

“Son, watch me, I'm right here, right with you. See me? Watch as I become a bear... just like you are, just like your brothers. Your body knows what to do... trust it. In a bit you won't be able to understand me, but then a bit later you will, when you are a full bear. I know, it hurts like hell. It does, the first time. It gets better, a lot better, you will come to love changing, love feeling your muscles grow, you body become so strong. You are going to be a fine bear, Cody, a strong, beautiful big bear with a big cock and a set of balls just like mine!”

Ron's voice was gradually becoming more ursine, deeper, filled with chuffs and growls. His other sons and his brother and nephews understood the words of encouragement he was giving Cody, even if Cody couldn't. Ron nodded to the other and they moved in, placed paws on Cody's arms and torso and massaged and stroked, helping the new bear grow into his new body and ease the sharp pains he was feeling as bones cracked and reformed. Ron stroked Cody's forming muzzle and scratched his small rounded fuzzy ears as they moved upwards on his elongating skull. The statue of Bahonu seemed to be watching intently, looking down with approval on the new bear forming before him

First changes always take time, and Cody's was no exception. But finally, covered with thick brown fur, hands replaced with paws, nails replaced with claws, arms with forelimbs and legs with hind limbs, eyes changed in color to a rich chocolate brown, Cody's change was complete. His cock now rested in a fur-covered sheath, his very large balls in a fur-covered sack just below. He tried to get up, but Ron spoke to him, in a voice and language that Cody now understood.

“Your brothers will release the straps, but before you get up, I have one more task. You'll need some time to get accustomed to your new bear body, but I will help you with one part that shouldn't need much training.” With a grin, Ron moved back to the base of the altar, and took Cody's bear cock in his muzzle and wrapped his ursine tongue around the tip.

Cody gasped and chuffed, then growled in delight. The feelings of pleasure were amplified ten-fold from what he felt as a human. His baculum-stiffened cock slid out of its sheath and into his daddy's mouth. In moments, he was shooting his first load of werebear seed. His thick body shook with the pleasure of his first bear orgasm.

Ron drew out the last of his son's first werebear load and stood upright, nodding to Bubba. At the signal, Bubba, Nick, Bill, and Bob reversed their change partially, so that their paws once again became human hands. They moved to the belts and unfastened them so that Cody could roll off the table. Cody was still a bit unstable, and wobbled in his new bear feet. The other bears stood back as Cody got up and stretched and then began to pad around unsteadily, getting used to his new body. He sniffed his brother bears' crotches and lapped at the drops of precum he found there, chuffing with pleasure.

His claws clicked on the stone floor of the cavern, and Ron led him over to the statue. Ron put out a steadying paw as Cody rose up on his hind legs and stood before Bahonu. A sound very much like a sigh seemed to pass through the cave, and the air grew warmer. A scent of bear musk slowly filled the chamber. Bahonu was pleased.

Cody looked around and spoke for the first time in his bear voice. “I... I LIKE this!” He opened his arms and embraced his daddy and then his new bear brothers. He turned back to Ron with a questioning look.

“Oh, I know what you want, boy and I am more than happy to do it. But we have to do it properly. Back on the altar, son. Now.”

Cody scrambled back onto the altar stone with some difficulty, but finally arranged his thick bear body on the stone, his legs hanging over the end. He growled and chuffed at his brothers, who chuffed back and shook their heads and pointed to Ron. Ron growled at Nick and Dick, who moved into position. The two bears, the torchlight making their red and copper fur glow like fire, each held one of Cody's legs while Ron moved in between. His cock was rigid and swollen, and drooling precum. Ron growled and reached out with his big paws to pull his now fully-changed son a bit closer to the edge of the altar stone and settle his ass cheeks into the depressions there.

Ron centered the tip of his bearcock against Cody's pucker. He looked deeply into his cub's eyes, chocolate brown to chocolate brown. He held the look for a long time, then spoke in a deep voice,

“By the rules and customs of our ancient kind, and by my right as your creator, I claim First Fuck. I will be the first full bear in your new bear ass, Cody. This is my right, claimed by my power and purpose as your daddy, and by my love for you as my son.” With those words, he plunged his thick bearcock deep into Cody' waiting rectum. He had taken the last of Cody's human seed and the first of his werebear seed; now it was time to re-fill his boy.

Cody's eyes flared and he grunted loudly at the force of his daddy's pole burying itself in his gut. His own cock swelled and jerked. He felt the warmth of his daddy's cock all along his rectum, feeling the heat as it traveled deeper into him; but his newly-amplified physique easily handled the intensity. His rectum stretched far beyond what had been possible in human form to accommodate the girth of the powerful bear's penis as it plunged into and out of his butt. Cody growled with pleasure, a deep, resonating bear growl. Sweat began to drip from Ron's fur as he took his new son's ass and made it his own. He varied his pace; long and slow deep-dicking, followed by more rapid punch fucking, interspersed with a kind of circular grinding motion of his hips. He motioned for Nick and Dick to lower Cody's legs onto his shoulders. He reached his paws forward and leaned in, grasping Cody's shoulders, pulling him closer, bending his legs back as he drove his meat deep into Cody's chute.

Cody's new werebear metabolism raised his body temperature to a higher degree, making his rectum hot like a furnace. His strong werebear muscles gripped his daddy's cock and tightened each time Ron pulled back. “That's it, boy... milk my cock! Gonna fill my son's ass with my strong daddy seed!” Now in full werebear form, Cody had no problem understanding the growlings that Ron uttered, and he gripped the thick heavy cock in his ass tighter. Ron reared back and roared, “Our brother! My son!!” as he began to shoot an epic load in Cody's ass. Cody's eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned and thrashed as much as the belts allowed him to. The rest of the werebears cheered, their own erect cocks drooling precum, making puddles on the floor.

Ron always found that he came buckets when he took First Fuck, much more so than usual. The excitement of the event, and the promise of a new brother bear to carry on the lineage of his kind, always seemed to step up the production of fluids in his gonads, and he had felt almost uncomfortably full most of the morning. It was a rare feeling for Ron, given how often he drained his balls. He felt the thick ropes of jizz pump out of the cock, filling his son's ass and eventually oozing out around his cock. The stubby tail above his anus twitched and wiggled in time with the pulses of his cock. He stayed buried in Cody's ass, finally leaning over and licking his muzzle with his long bear tongue, then forcing it inside his boy's mouth.

Ron finally broke the bear kiss and helped his boy up off the altar. The two embraced, and Ron whispered in Cody's ear.

“Remember your part now, and the words. They're important. Bahonu is here with us and listening.” With another kiss, he moved behind Cody. Cody was now facing his brothers, who were arranged in a semi-circle in front of him. He approached each of them, eldest first, beginning with Bubba.

“Bubba, I accept you as my brother, head and heart, belly and cock. I will ride with you and fight for you, head and heart, belly and cock. I will honor our ways and protect our kind, head and heart, belly and cock.” Cody turned to each of his new brothers in turn, spoke their name, and repeated his vow. The assembled bears joined in one voice, “You are our brother bear, head and heart, belly and cock!” Growls and hugs broke out, but Charlie stood on his hind legs, stretching to his maximum height.

“Wait.”

The simple command carried a sense of command and control beyond what Charlie's position in the bear clan usually carried. They all looked at him. He seemed bigger, and his eyes glowed with a warm light from within. He took a step towards Cody. There was a presence within him, something that made all within the cave at once excited and calm. It was a connection, a communication with something greater, they all felt it and it was wondrous.

“I greet you, my children, rarely do I come among you, but I am well pleased with our new brother and felt the need for benediction.” Charlie’s voice echoed throughout the chamber. It was Charlie’s voice, but it was more than Charlie too. His voice was deeper, more melodic, more resonant, yet still a bear’s growl, but each word brought a tingle of pleasure with it, “You have made me so proud, all of you my Sons, you do me great honor. I salute you.” The large bear inclined his head and placed an enormous paw over his heart.

Cody whispered to Ron, “What does Charlie mean, about us doing him honor?”

“It isn't Charlie, my Son, now be still, this is a very rare honor,” Ron breathed, his back straightening as he almost unconsciously came to attention. “I’m sure you feel it, reach out with your heart, the answer is there?”

Cody’s eyes widened. “It's Bahonu! He's entered Charlie's body. He's with us now in body as well as spirit. Wait... is Charlie... gone?”

“No son, he’s still here, but Lord Bahonu has merged with his mind and body for a while. Bahonu always asks, but it's wise to agree, I find. It's quite an experience. You get to see and feel things as He does, at least partially. You're aware of things and the experience leaves you with… gifts. Bahonu always leaves you with gifts, it’s unlike any other experience and hard to explain. But nice.”

Charlie/Bahonu spoke again, his deep growling voice filled with warmth and power. “It is our way to welcome a new brother with our hearts, bodies and cocks. We join with him, and he joins with us. We exchange our strength and love for each other, and each of us grows stronger, the bonds between us tighter and more profound.” He grunted and grasped his thick cock as it extended from its furry sheath, slowly milking it. “My seed is for all of you tonight. Come... be with me.”

One by one, each of the bears came forward and knelt and suckled Charlie/Bahonu's rigid cock. He fed each one of them, mouth-full after mouth-full of powerful, honey-sweet werebear seed. It was as intoxicating as the strongest drink, going straight to the bears' heads and crotches. Wordless, filled with lust and love, needing to satisfy the deep, primal urge of all werebears to mate with their own kind, the bears fell together in a bear pile of fur and pheromones, the seed of their God within them, they were also filled with vigor and lust and the Spirit of Bahonu remained with Charlie as they began to mate with one another, all of them sharing with each other and physically communing with The Great Bear.

The pent-up need was nowhere stronger than in Cody. He had waited and longed for this day, it seemed, his whole life. Certainly this past year had felt like one very long edging session. There would still be restrictions, he knew, as befitted the newest member; but at last he could let his inner bear out to play. He reveled in his new bear body and its strength, along with the enhanced sensations of touch and taste, but especially scent. The smell of bears in rut, the mixture of spice and sweat and salt and sex was overpowering; and over the next few hours, he mounted and was mounted by every bear in the cave. Bahonu was no exception, having taken Cody as the second bear to fuck him after his Papa. Even the Bear God Himself would not intrude on that right. The bears coupled and broke, forming and reforming pairs and triples and quads. At one point, Ron, Bubba, Jeff, Dick, Charlie/Bahonu, Bill, and Buck formed a delirious, cum-drenched conga line, cocks buried in asses, thrusting and pushing back in near perfect rhythm. Eventually, that dissolved into random thrusts and grunts and laughter as they all collapsed on the floor.

“Damn, you got some good moves on ya, bro,” Bob said to Cody as they cuddled. “We need to explore your abilities in more detail, but right now, I'm fucking starved! Where's the food?”

The remainder of the night passed in feasting and fucking, drinking beer, mead (suddenly the sacred font was full of it and it didn’t seem to run dry no matter how much was consumed), and drinking bear cum. Bahonu remained in Charlie's body, enjoying both the comradeship of his bears and the sensations of taste as he put away prodigious quantities of food. But finally, all appetites were, at least temporarily, sated; and the bears slept. Sometime shortly before sunrise, Charlie padded over to Cody, who was curled around Ron and Dick, snoring lightly. He was still in full bear form, and nosed Cody and growled softly.

Cody awoke and reached out a paw towards the bigger bear. “Bahonu?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, He partied his butt off, and had a great time I might add, but He’s back roaming The Great Forest again, His Spirit is gone and it's just me. The last thing He said was that he thought you'll make a fine addition to the clan. Ya know, He's never far from us, at least His spirit ain't. But right now, I have a powerful need to bury my cock in that ass a'yours and feel that myself. It's all well and good, feelin' along with the spirit, but there's something more... personal, feelin' it fer yourself. You game, boy?”

Cody nodded, and assumed the classic bear position, and Charlie mounted. Soon the growlings and chuffings of bearsex roused Ron, who looked over at his brother and his son and smiled, and fell back into a well-satisfied sleep.

Charlie held Cody close, cuddling him until he slept, but Charlie could not. The vision he’d been given disturbed him and it had been given to him because he, unlike his brothers, sons and nephews was not born human. Bahonu communicated best with the four footed bears, though he loved all His children, those who were born with fur and claws understood Him perhaps more deeply. Bahonu’s visit was more than just pleasure. Sadly, he was also restricted in what he could do and say about what was to happen. Not all of it was in motion yet and not all of it was set in stone and though it was bad, not all of it was. It was the way of the future, it was yet to be and even The Gods didn’t know all of it, well, except The Lady of Destiny, but She was always speaking in riddles and offered only tantalizing hints at what true paths were to be chosen. Charlie knew that what likely was to come, had to, but he didn’t like it.

After a very large bowl of mead, he joined his kin, the snoring pile of fur and warm comfortable musky scent and began to dream… of long ago when he first walked in the forest.

Season's greetings!

We want to wish all of our readers a joyous holiday season, and a happy and safe New Year! 
Warm hugs,
Papa Werebear and UrsusMajr

Spirit of the Bear

The Spirit of the Bear

This is a story of true love, one that transcends death and time.
I dedicate this story to Ben and his love Big Jon.

By Papa Werebear, writing as Bjorn Torson

I woke as I had for the last seven years, with the sense that Jim had just gotten out of bed and was in the bathroom of our master suite, shaving his neck, trimming his beard and brushing his teeth. I felt the warmth of our love in my heart and smelled the wonderful cologne Jim liked to use after he shaved. It’s called 'Seattle' and comes in a plaid flannel bag like the Crown Royal bags. It’s a scent that seemed to embody my husbear’s rugged good looks and love for the outdoors. It’s like the woods and fresh air in cologne form and I love to wake up to the scent. It’s crisp and it blends so well with Jim’s natural musk.

As I became fully awake I realized with despair, as I had for the last seven years, that Jim was never going to shave with his straight razor in the bathroom of our master suite again. He was never going to catch me around the waist and kiss my neck from behind with his wonderfully thick, soft, salt and pepper beard. He was never going to hold me against his furry body and make love with me. He was never going to sit on the front porch with a beer and smoke his pipe in the evening. Jim Engle was dead. Seven years dead, from a blood vessel that burst in his brain.

It was so sudden. One minute he was watching football and the next he was dead. I had gone into the kitchen for hot wings and beer and when I returned, Jim was slumped over on the couch. No amount of CPR would bring him back, though I tried so hard. When the ambulance came, I was still trying to revive him. He was already brain dead, but I didn’t know that then. I followed the ambulance.

At the hospital they confirmed that there was absolutely no higher activity in his brain and somewhere around three in the morning, the rest of Jim just shut down. Jim hadn’t wanted to be kept alive, his living will had been very clear, so they hadn’t put him on life support. I was so distraught, I hadn’t even realized his heart had flat-lined. There, in the emergency room my beautiful bear lay slain. They left me alone in my grief at his bedside for probably only fifteen to thirty minutes; I cannot remember how long it actually was. It seemed like I looked on his pale beautiful face for years, every detail of it etching itself upon my mind. All I know is that they finally had to pull me away. I had forms to sign and I did so automatically. My mind performed the routine tasks, but I was not concentrating on the work. I was later amazed that I had filled the forms out so accurately without thinking about the details. Then the business was over and I got into my car and began the journey home to a house that I knew was empty. I knew joy would not greet me there, nor warmth, nor love. I knew it would be as empty as I was.

My world had just fallen apart and I damn near joined Jim that morning.
I was driving home. I was numb, but my thoughts continued in a cold, detached sort of way. I thought that I’d just lost the one man who had meant the most to me in the entire world. I didn’t cry. He was my strength, my joy, and my love and without him, I was empty; I was nothing. Still, I didn’t cry. It felt as though I had died too. Perhaps, that was it. 'The dead don’t cry,' I thought; and surely without Jim, I may as well be dead too. Half or more of me had died completely at three in the morning that day. It was all so unreal.
The sun was just coming up as I drove and I thought, 'I’ll never see another sunrise with Jim again.' Then I thought, 'Hell, why should I bother to ever see another sunrise at all, what’s the point?' I pulled over and got out of my car just this side of a bridge that spanned a fairly swift river. It was early and the road was deserted, there was no one around to stop me. It was fairly high, about fifty feet or so above the surface of the river and I didn’t swim well at all. If the current didn’t get me, the cold water surely would. I’d drown and that would be it. I’d be seeing Jim in just a few minutes. In just a few minutes, I’d be spending eternity with him. I climbed up onto the low railing and looked down.

I went to jump off the bridge and I heard Jim growl in my right ear, "Carl, don’t! Stop right now!" It was in the voice he used when he meant business, his ‘Papa Bear’ voice, and it jolted me like an electric shock. For a few seconds, I felt paralyzed. Then, I felt Jim’s big strong arms around me. I felt his warmth and love in my soul. I felt him in and around me and briefly I knew joy again. My body climbed down from the railing and backed away from it. I was dazed and walked automatically, it felt like my mind was in the back seat and someone else was driving. There was a wonderful feeling of peace and contentment in me. It was as if I was not controlling my body at all. I went back to my car and regained my consciousness, the warmth of the joy I felt left me. It was then, as cold reality seeped back in, that I broke down crying. Eventually, I got home. I went upstairs exhausted and crashed. I did not dream.

There were the usual things that needed to be tied up after death, all the legalities. There was the funeral and burial itself. I was grateful to all the friends that Jim and I had. They were like relatives and helped me to bear the burdens during a very difficult time. They brought food and stayed over a couple of nights in the spare bedroom. I think Kyle slipped some mild sedatives into the cocoa, because I slept deeply and undisturbed the three nights Kyle and Rick were over. Kyle insisted that I have cocoa before bed. It was a ‘comfort food’ sort of thing, he said and the hot milk had a mild natural sedative in it. I’m sure he was augmenting those natural sedatives.

I had told them about the incident at the bridge and Rick and Kyle were both in agreement that I should seek counseling immediately. They were so dear to me, they helped me remember appointments and helped me sort things out during their stay, but eventually, everything was taken care of and they left me to myself. They said to call if I felt I wanted to talk about anything. Either of them would be there for me, day or night. The visits eventually thinned out to only occasional ones and I decided they were giving me some space to sort things out.

I was alone, in the house that we had bought together. Jim’s will made no bones about who his beneficiary was. I was the solitary inheritor of all his worldly possessions. He had brothers, but was estranged from them since they had disowned him for daring to be gay. I remember, vaguely, the attorney reading the line that gave me control of the not so small fortune Jim had left me. "…I therefore, leave the total sum of all my savings and transfer ownership of all real property and businesses to Carl Delaney, my sole and beloved beneficiary." His lawyer smiled and said that Jim had been adamant about the wording, that it should include the word ‘beloved’. I held back tears.

Jim had taken care of me well when all was said and done. I had well over $700,000.00 after taxes, with his savings and the sale of the construction business he owned. He had left instructions for me to sell the business with his attorney’s help because he knew I wouldn’t be able to manage it. As Jim had instructed, that was exactly what I had done.
Engle Construction was worth quite a bit, had an excellent crew and a good reputation. The buyer, McMahon and Son, was a larger competing business. Jim had respected Brian McMahon, Sr. and remained friends with the younger Brian after Jim left McMahon and Son. As a result, there was no quibbling over the price for Engle Construction when it came time to sell it.

Brian McMahon, Sr., had given Jim his start in the construction business. He had hired Jim when he was a complete greenhorn at the age of eighteen and taught him the business alongside his son. He was like a father to Jim, a father that didn’t seem to mind that Jim was gay. The younger Brian and Jim had worked side by side and had become good friends. Later, after he’d inherited the business, Brian, Jr. had even sent business Jim’s way as his father had done. I was happy to see the business Jim loved passed into his friend’s hands. Jim’s crew would be well taken care of.

Jim had left me his half of the house and there was the cabin on some prime property up in the mountains where he and I used to go camping; where he and I saw our first sunrise together. I had no financial worries even after taxes and attorney fees, but I had no intention of quitting work. It kept me busy and did mildly distract me from the gaping hole that was left in my soul that Jim used to fill.

I had noticed that I seemed to feel Jim’s presence in the house after the funeral. I smelled the unmistakable scent of Seattle cologne, though the cologne was well-imprisoned in its bottle in the medicine cabinet, just as Jim had left it the day he died. I could swear I heard Jim humming one of his favorite country tunes, as he used to do when he was shaving, as I woke one morning and at this my heart broke all over again. I thought that I must have been imagining it in my half wakened state, the auditory hallucination being fueled by my grief. Yet perhaps I wasn’t imagining it. I became convinced that Jim’s ghost was still in the house and began to talk to him, to tell him how heart broken I was, how much his death had diminished me and how much I still loved him.

I began to sink deeper and deeper into a self-destructive pattern. I would have more to drink than I should when I came home from work and cry myself to sleep most nights. I didn’t eat very sensibly when I ate at all and I was losing weight, but not in a healthy way. I would go to work slightly hung over. My boss understood, but informally told me that I needed to straighten out my life and perhaps I needed to talk to a psychiatrist. He also suggested that I use some of my vacation time. He said that I didn’t need the pressures of the office heaped on me as well as my grief.

He is a good man. He’d lost a son to a motorcycle accident a few years ago. His son was riding the new Harley that he had given him for a graduation present from college. He was someone who more than fully understood what kind of grief I was feeling. So I took two weeks off, and I did use the mental health coverage my health plan provided. I saw a counselor, but I never told her about the phantom scents or sounds or the presence in my house. I saw her for about a year before I began to even try to come to terms with my grief.

At this time in my life our friends, because they were Jim’s friends too, came over to help and comfort me as they could. They told me that I should cut back on my drinking. They invited me out to things to take my mind off Jim for a few hours. I would refuse, most of the time, as gently as possible. They took me to comedies and to the state fair and other places that weren’t likely to remind me of Jim. But it was no use. I saw him everywhere in all sorts of things that reminded me of him or in other men. Such is the case when you love someone as deeply as I had loved. On the way to a movie one night we passed by a restaurant Jim and I had frequented. I became silent and held in my tears. 
 
Occasionally, I’d see Jim in a large, bearded, bearish man that looked remotely like him, like the night we saw the biker on his Harley who was stopped at a light on our way to a restaurant. Even my friends thought he looked like Jim. I was inconsolable and I’m sure my friends were at a loss as to how to help me. In reality there was nothing they could do. I would have to work this out for myself.

I had a dream, on the night of the sixth month anniversary of Jim’s death. I dreamed that Jim was sitting at the foot of our king-sized bed. He was wearing his favorite black and white plaid flannel shirt and smoking his pipe. He looked at me with a mixture of longing, love, sadness and concern. He shook his head slightly as he looked at me. He reached out a big paw and gently squeezed my thigh and told me that he was leaving. He told me he needed to go, so I could get on with my life and I could heal. He got up off the bed, moved over to me and gave me a smoky kiss just as he used to and smiled wanly and tearfully. I felt his soft beard and warm lips caress me and the touch of his callused hand on my cheek as he kissed me.

I will always remember what he said in that dream. He said, "I love you, Carl. I always will. Remember that. Get better." He paused then and gave me a serious look, "I’d rather that you forgot me completely than for you to go on living like this." He was being Papa Bear now, by the tone of his voice and the stern look he was giving me.
"I’ll never forget you Jim, you know that." I said, my voice on the edge of tears.
"No," he said, his expression and voice softening, "I suppose you won’t. But Carl, you can’t have a viable relationship with a dead man. Please find someone, love, and be happy again. I can’t stay any longer. I’d only make you miserable and if you continue to abuse your body like this, you’ll die. You’ll die far too soon. Good night, my love, I’ll see you again… someday."

I cried out, "Don’t leave me, I miss you so much." 
 
Jim, now crying as I was, said, "I know, my love, I know. I miss you too." He kissed me again, rose from my bedside, turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I woke, tears streaming down my face and swore I could smell the chocolate-cherry blend of pipe tobacco that was Jim’s favorite.

I rose from bed and scrawled our conversation down on a tablet. I began keeping a diary after that with my dream of Jim as my first entry. I didn’t want to forget him at all. Not one thing. That week I found some undeveloped film from a camping trip we’d taken last summer up at the cabin. We were both old school when it came to cameras. I had it developed. It was painful to see my dead love’s beautiful face staring back at me from the pictures, but the one with him making a goofy face and pretending to pick his nose made me laugh. He’d done something almost exactly like that on our first date when I had complimented him. He usually acted goofy when he was embarrassed. I guess it was so he could feel people were laughing at what he did rather than at him, though I’d never laugh at him. Jim had his emotional walls. My preparing to take a candid shot must have caught him off guard and embarrassed him, but he had covered his vulnerability as he usually did. I smiled and laughed a little through the tears standing in my eyes. I rounded up all the pictures I could lay my hands on of him and I made an album. I would not forget.

In the last seven years I have never stopped mourning him and I certainly never stopped loving him. I had, however, stopped drinking to excess and repaired my life to some degree. Still, it was only a bandage on a wound that had not healed. I hadn’t moved on and found anyone else, despite the stern talking to Jim’s ghost had given me. I lived alone and had dated only twice. Both times the men were very handsome and decent. My friends had set me up with nice, husky, bearded bears on both occasions and, were I not still grieving, I would probably have fallen in love with either one of them. Still, no one could measure up to Jim.

Alone in the house, I hoped to feel Jim’s spirit still, but I no longer sensed Jim’s presence after that night of the sixth month anniversary of his death.

Never, that is, until two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, on the seventh anniversary of his death, I began to feel Jim in the house again. I would come home from work and it was as if the house was occupied. It felt like he, too, had just come home from work. It felt like it used to. He’d leave earlier than I did in the morning, come home first and I’d come home to him. He rarely ever met me at the door, but I’d feel his presence in the house, even though I couldn’t see or hear him immediately. I can’t explain the feeling of ‘occupation’ that begun filling the house. It wasn’t like there were signs of another living being in the house such as things misplaced or knocked over. The house just felt ‘warmer’ than when I had left it in the morning. It was as if I could turn the corner and enter the living room and expect to see him sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. 
 
That night, the seventh anniversary, I awoke for no reason and I could feel Jim lying next to me in bed with his arms wrapped around me. I could smell Seattle and chocolate-cherry pipe tobacco, but I seemed to smell it with my mind more than with my nose, it was strange. I also had a contented feeling in my heart and had absolutely no fear of the supernatural lover lying in bed with me, spooning, like he used to do. I could feel a definite pressure on my skin as though Jim was lying behind me with his arms around me. I could feel him gently playing with my chest fur, occasionally tweaking my nipples. I could even feel the pressure of his ghostly penis rubbing against my crack. I was becoming extremely aroused. I opened my legs and let him in and, though I didn’t physically feel a penetration, I could tell he was inside of me. I became extremely aroused. My breathing increased, I was sweating heavily and within minutes achieved orgasm for the first time in a couple of years. Since Jim’s death, I hadn’t really been that sexually active. Even auto-erotica didn’t seem to do much for me. It was strange. I could feel Jim orgasm and shoot inside of me even as I came. I fell asleep shortly after that, but I remember feeling a kiss on my ear and the whispered words, "You’ll be better soon, my love, sleep well" as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, thankfully, was Saturday. I woke and was sure my dream had been the best dream I’d had in years. In thinking about the ghostly sex of my dream, I became extremely aroused and jacked off. I soon came to believe it was not a dream at all. Jim was making love with me and his spirit had touched mine as we both achieved orgasm the previous night.

Weeks passed, I would hear footsteps in the bedroom above when I was in the kitchen or living room. The floor would creak with the weight of a heavy man’s footsteps and I knew that Jim was up there, moving around. I would occasionally feel a slight twinge of grief, but it also made me happy to know that he was around and looking after me. When I watched football, I would sense Jim’s warm presence next to me on the couch. I never sat in the place Jim used to sit while watching TV in all the years since his death. It was his place and I guess I kind of enshrined it. Now, in the evenings when I watched the game, I could feel Jim’s arm around me or on my thigh. I was contented. On one occasion, I lost all interest in the game because Jim was rubbing my crotch and nibbling on my ear. I unzipped my pants and came immediately. I began to think about sex again, though I was not yet ready to start dating.

I made Jim’s favorite dishes and set aside a little on a plate for him in addition to what I took for myself. I bought a bottle of Seattle, opened it and poured out a little in a dish in the living room as an offering to the spirit of my bear lover. I understood now why some of the eastern cultures had this tradition as part of their ancestor worship. 
 
The original bottle of cologne had been thrown out and other personal possessions donated in the hopes that disposing of Jim’s things might help me dispose of the grief I felt. All of Jim’s clothes had been given away to the thrift store. All except Jim’s favorite black and white plaid flannel shirt and a certain suit that he wore on our first date. The shirt was in a drawer but its scent had long since faded. I put a few dabs of Seattle on the shirt and slept with it like a security blanket at night.

I’d also kept Jim’s straight razor and had learned to shave with it in the last seven years. It was his great-grandfather’s razor and his brothers didn’t know he had taken it. He cared for the razor because it connected him to his past. His brothers had wanted to sell it for the money they could get. Jim had very skillfully shaved my face with it on occasion and I remembered it was such a sensual experience. The first time he had shaved me I was as hard as steel by the time he had finished. We, of course, immediately made love and he was late for work, as I was. We saved that experience for evenings or weekends after that, because it never failed to arouse me. It was tough using the antique implement at first and I got nicks almost every time I used it, but I learned. In all the times Jim had used it on me, he only nicked me once, on the neck, he was so skilled in it’s use. He of course, licked the wound and made it all better. I kept Jim’s razor sharp with the strop he had used. He had taught me how to sharpen it. It gave me a connection to Jim I’d never had before.
Jim was eight and a quarter years older than I and just about my same build, though he was more muscular, and heavier. He was nicely padded with a small beer belly. He was my papa bear.

I had always been clean-shaven, except for an occasional mustache I’d keep for a month or two. I decided about a month after Jim’s return that I would grow a beard too, like Jim had. I would not shave anything except my neck for the rest of my life. I began wearing his favorite flannel shirt in the evenings after work, too. I hadn’t smoked at all before Jim’s death, but shortly after he’d passed on, a year or so after, I had taken up Jim’s habit and his pipe and now smoked the same blend that was my lover’s favorite. I’d sit in the evenings, on the porch with a beer and Jim’s pipe. Wearing Jim’s flannel shirt and enjoying my lover’s pleasures helped me remember Jim and it soothed my weary heart a little. I could, at times, feel Jim standing behind me, rubbing my shoulders. I would talk softly to him about the day’s events and blow smoke up toward my ghostly lover’s face in the hopes that he could enjoy it too.

One evening, when a sudden rainstorm drove me from the porch, I passed by the mirror in the hall with Jim’s pipe in my teeth, wearing the flannel shirt and holding the empty beer bottle in my hand. I stopped dead in front of the mirror. I looked at my own reflection and I was amazed and slightly aroused. I had grown to look quite a bit like my lover. My beard had grown in full and thick. It was black with silver on the chin and a lot of silver in the mustache and was salt and peppery everywhere else just as Jim’s had been. My chest hair even poked out over my black T-shirt collar in strands of black and silver, just as Jim’s had. I went into the living room and when I came back to the mirror with a picture of Jim, I couldn’t believe the resemblance. I had grown about as chubby as Jim had been and had put on the same kind of bulk he had naturally from working.

In the seven years since his death, I’d joined a gym and was working out two to three times a week. I had put some bulk on, but I didn’t exercise enough to remove the beer belly I’d developed. I wasn’t that serious about being trim. Swimmer’s figures had never done anything for me, or had they done anything for Jim for that matter. I’d always been on the slightly husky side and appreciated that look above all other body types. I looked in the mirror and realized that, though we surely weren’t identical twins, I looked quite a bit like Jim. The resemblance was enough that I could have passed for his brother, or his son. I especially resembled him with his pipe in my mouth. I held it in the same way he had, with the same slight frown.

I decided it was time to communicate with Jim. It was time to find out why he had returned and what it all meant. I wondered why I had come to look so much like my dead love. I wasn’t displeased with the look. As a matter of fact, I thought I looked damned hot and I wasn’t about to change it by shaving or losing weight.

My new look even aroused really satisfying sexual fantasies. In them, Jim used his ghostly powers to sculpt my body into his very image. This, as the fantasy went, was so that he could possess me and we could live together in the same body as one merged being, happily joined for eternity. I knew this was silly and pure fantasy, but I must admit I was just a bit creeped out by it when I thought seriously about the fantasy. Jim was sleeping beside me almost every night now and I’d grown accustomed to having sex with his spirit.
I decided to contact a psychic, someone a friend had recommended when I told him that Jim was back.

That’s how I came to know Arnold MacIntyre. Arnold was not a ‘professional’ psychic. He said that he would not take money for his help at all; he felt that would be wrong. He didn’t make his money by reading the tarot or talking to the dead. He did those things, but by profession he was a CPA.

I talked with him on the phone. I remember thinking that he had a warm, friendly, deep voice and I felt I liked him before I had ever met him. He asked me not go give him details and had said he had asked the same of Kyle, the friend who had recommended Arnold to me. He didn’t want to know anything about the spirit in my house or anything about me. We arranged a date for Arnold to come over.

Arnold came over after work, the Friday after I had called. I opened the door and was rather pleasantly surprised. He was quite a good-looking man. He was also taller than I am and beefy. He had a beautiful thick red beard, blue eyes and a receding hairline. He had strong, furry, meaty hands with thick, long fingers and well-muscled arms, which I discovered when I shook hands with him.

I thought he looked nothing like any CPA I’d ever expected to meet. Most of them, I thought, were short, slight and wore thick glasses. This man was a bigger bear than I am and from the looks of his partially unbuttoned shirt, just as furry as either Jim or I. My friend Kyle had told me that he wasn’t a ‘bear’ in the sense that he was straight, but Kyle hadn’t told me that he was a drop dead gorgeous fur-ball. I felt a stirring in my loins from the moment I opened the door. Standing there, as we made small talk after the introductions, I realized that Arnold was the first man I’d had any lustful feelings for since Jim’s death. I thought, 'If he were a bear I’d fuck him in a heartbeat -- and wouldn’t you know it, he was off limits!'

He had introduced himself and I invited him in. Arnold immediately said, "The spirit is here, now. I can feel his presence right here in the hallway. He’s come to greet me."
I thought, "Sure, nice start! Tell me something I don’t know." But I nodded and said, "Yes, he showed up some months back and I’m not surprised that he’s here now. How did you know my ghost was male?" I asked. "Because," he replied, "I sensed that he was a robust man with a thick beard," Arnold paused and looked me over. A strange look passed over his face. "like you." I was amazed. Arnold had recognized my current stature and furriness as being very close to Jim’s. 
 
"That plaid flannel shirt you’re wearing and that pipe you’re cradling, he says that they once belonged to him and that you look very…" At that Arnold blushed a bit and, after clearing his throat, continued. "He says that you’re very sexy looking in his shirt."

I was sure, by the throat clearing, that Arnold had edited the comment Jim had made to him about how ‘hot’ Jim thought I looked. I imagine Jim was quite free with details.

Arnold continued, "He also says he appreciates that you are smoking his blend. He can’t smell it of course, unless he taps into your senses. He says it is still not as good as having a physical body and actually smoking the pipe, but he appreciates the offerings you’ve been making for him. He can smell and taste them when he lightly touches your mind. He likes it when you blow smoke at him. He says the way you look when you do it makes him very…uh… aroused."

Arnold was still blushing. "I’m guessing he was your lover," he said shyly.

I smiled, "Yes, he was my husband."

"I’m sorry," Arnold said, "this must be painful for you." 
 
"It is, yes… a little. But he’s been dead for seven years or so and I think I’m beginning to move on. It’s actually why I called you," I said.

"Seven years, that’s a long time," he said, "you must have loved him very much."
"I do, yes." I said, becoming a little choked up.

"Forgive me, I didn’t mean to use the past tense as though you had stopped…" 
 
I interrupted him. "It’s alright, please, come into the living room." I said as I choked back my emotions and smiled at my special guest.

Arnold came into the living room and I offered him a seat, being careful not to gesture, and something to drink. He refused, saying it would be a distraction to eat or drink while he was working on a haunting. 
 
Before we’d moved very far into the room at all he said, "That end," and he pointed to the end of the couch that Jim had always sat on, "That’s his side, isn’t it?"

I said, "Yes." Arnold sat down on the opposite end of the couch to Jim’s favorite end and I sat in the leather recliner. I was rather surprised that Arnold didn’t falsely guess that the recliner was Jim’s favorite seat.

"He’s in the room. I sense that he’s standing by you. He’s telling me that he died in this room. He’s asking me to tell you that he didn’t suffer from the burst blood vessel in his brain. He says it was like someone throwing a switch. One minute he was in his body and the next he was looking at you from the couch while you gave him CPR. There was no pain, just a flash of light and everything went dark, and then he was looking down at you."

I was shocked. There was no way Arnold could be a phony with all the details he had given me in just a few minutes, unless he had pumped Kyle or other friends for information and had a memory like a steel trap. Of course, I suppose he could have dug up records on Jim and found out the cause of death. It was on the death certificate, after all. But not the other details. Not those.

Following this thought, and partly to convince myself, I said, "I don’t want to insult you, Arnold, but it is possible to find out some of these details from public records or by talking to my friends and you could guess some of them. Can you tell me something that only my lover and I would know?

Arnold smiled, "Well, we can start calling him Jim, but that could be obtained from a death certificate." Arnold paused as if listening and began relaying a message, apparently from Jim. "Jim says there is something. He tells me that you were both watching the Rams vs. the Packers game the night he died. You had gotten up to get more beer and hot wings. Jim liked his hotter than you did and used to dump tons of cayenne pepper on his. He tells me he used to tease you about being a pussy because you liked celery sticks and ranch dressing with your hot wings. He ate his straight and said he liked to feel the burn at both ends, like a real man. He tells me to remind you of the time you made the special chili. The ‘nuclear waste’ chili. You dumped two bottles of cayenne in it just to see how much of a man he was. He ate the entire pot in the course of three days and he says it really did burn a lot, but he wasn’t going to let on to you. He kept telling you how good it was, that it was the best batch you’d ever made. He says he really didn’t like the burn at the other end, but he wouldn’t let you know that."

I interrupted to speak directly to Jim, a broad smile on my face. "I knew it!" I crowed with triumph and laughed. "I knew it, you son of a bitch! I knew it was too hot for you! You never did ask me to make it the same way ever again." I laughed. 
 
Arnold began again. "He’s laughing and says he knew you knew, but he wouldn’t let on because it was a game and he couldn’t admit defeat. He says his pride was on the line. He didn’t use Louisiana Hot Sauce because it’s for pussies too. He liked the straight cayenne. He liked it on eggs for breakfast and used it instead of black pepper for most things. Jim says on the night he died, his team was playing. He loved the Rams and you chose the Packers just so there would be a definite winner and a definite loser. He says...” and Arnold paused, blushed again, smiled and continued. "Jim says the winner got to be on top when the two of you went to bed. Jim says he wished the damned blood vessel had held out and burst thirty minutes after he had finished and was snoring, because he knows he would have been on top that night. The Rams won and up until the blood vessel burst, he was horny and ready to celebrate. He was ready for a… well...." Arnold faltered.

"…a good rough fuck session," I finished. Arnold had blushed yet again. "Jim used to get very crude, verbally. That last comment would actually be quite tame. Jim could make sailors blush, so don’t feel bad. It was another game we played. He used to make me blush. It turned him on. Hell, everything turned him on! When I had grown used to his language and stopped blushing, that turned him on too, especially since I could then dish it out as well as take it," I explained. 
 
I could tell that Jim was embarrassing Arnold, and he felt it was necessary. Still, Jim was trying to be gentle with his living vocal proxy. He was leaving no doubt in my mind by his use of language that it was indeed Jim to whom I was indirectly speaking. 
 
"OK,OK,  I’m convinced," I said, "You don’t have to prove Arnold is the real deal any more, my love."

"I think I need to explain about the kind of language you’re getting from Jim." I said, almost apologetically. "You see, Jim was a construction worker. It’s a sort of tradition with men who work construction. When I met him, he was getting out of his pickup first thing in the morning. I’d seen him a couple of times during the week before that and enjoyed him as eye candy. He even took off his shirt for me a couple of times. Once on a lunch break when I was passing by and once when I was leaving work. He sported his furry torso and held his tools suggestively because he knew it drove me mad with lust. He’d eyed me up and down like a hungry Kodiak those times and made some comments to one of his buddies that I couldn’t hear. Jim’s comments engendered quite a bit of snickering from the both of them. That was a few days before our first meeting."

"It was very early, the day Jim and I formally met. It was before most people were scheduled to show up for work and the street was mostly deserted. Jim began by whistling at me and made some catcalls like most construction workers do to women passing by. Then he made some extremely crude comments and equally crude gestures with his hands and mouth."

"It scares most men, straight or gay, when a 250 plus pound man with a nice bit of muscle and a leering look says those kinds of things. Suggestive doesn’t even come close to what he said. He was quite explicit and let me know that I was just what he wanted, after work. When he was done, Jim had a fine smirk on his beautiful face."

"I decided that I was going to end this one way or another. Either he was straight and belligerently picking a fight with me or he was gay and he was crudely coming on to me. The first possibility meant that I could end up in the hospital. The second meant that I needed to take charge of the situation. I walked over to him and told him, in a very calm even tone, that I thought he was a filthy, grimy, smelly, foul-mouthed, hairy pig. I said that he had a lot of balls to talk to me that way. I finished by saying that if he was going to talk to me like that then he damned well better pick me up at 6 o’clock that evening and take me to the finest restaurant in town, to make up for it."

I paused in my narrative and could feel the mirth coming from Jim, standing by my side. He was damned proud of the way I acted toward him on our first meeting. His pride in me was something he reminded me of often during our marriage. I continued with my description for Arnold.

"Jim laughed uproariously in response to my challenge. He grabbed me, which startled me quite a bit since I thought he was going to kill me, but he French kissed me instead. He asked me, very sweetly and sincerely, where I wanted him to be at six. He admired my courage. He said I had a bigger set of balls than he did and then corrected me. He said he was not a hairy pig. He was a filthy, grimy, smelly, foul-mouthed, furry bear."

I smiled at the warm memory, pausing while I cleared my throat. "He showed up at six, in front of my office, freshly bathed and well groomed."

Arnold interjected at this point, "He had gone to the barber and had his hair cut and his beard neatly trimmed. He’d also had a manicure. He was wearing a very nice gray wool suit, a white silk shirt with a blue silk tie that matched his eyes."

"Yes!" I said, "He was so handsome in it." 
 
Arnold closed his eyes and said, "Jim says you still have the suit in his old closet upstairs. He says it would fit you with slight alterations and he’d like it if you wore it. He says there’s no sense in letting a really nice suite like that go to waste."

I began again, "I was so shocked and so pleased when I saw him in it that day. For all the world, he looked like a fortune 500 businessman. The suit was brand new that morning and he’d paid extra for express tailoring. His black shoes were Italian and very expensive. He’d just come from the shop where the suit had been purchased. It was such juxtaposition, seeing such a well-groomed handsome man driving that grimy dented pickup of his. I remember that was the first time I’d ever smelled his cologne and I was entranced. Jim had taken the day off work and prepared all day for our date. His words were gentle and flattering and he held the door to his pickup truck open for me and closed it as I got in. I said, when he had shut the door on his side, "Wow, beauty and the beast, all in one package." He laughed and started to oink like a pig, then grunt like a bear and picked his nose. Then I started laughing. That was the beginning of our first date. We had a wonderful dinner at a very nice French restaurant."

Arnold interrupted, "Jim says he had pulled some strings with the restaurant owner. He’d done him some favors in the remodeling of the restaurant so he got reservations that afternoon for the evening."

"Yes," I said, "He was gruff beast with the soul of a poet. He was very romantic. He showed me how much more romantic he could be later in the evening." I saw the uncomfortable look on Arnold’s face. "But I don’t imagine further detail is necessary." I could tell that Arnold was embarrassed.

I continued in another vein, "You see, Jim had built a shell of gruff behavior around himself since his family had disowned him. He used gruff, rude, crude, rowdy language or behavior to keep people away, so he wouldn’t be hurt again. He’d had a lot of sex in his life. He’d go to a bear bar and score most nights and kick them out of bed in the morning, but he’d never allowed anyone to love him. He had never courted a man, as he had with me. He willingly gave a chance to those that could see through his defenses or challenged him but none had ever managed to tame the grizzly. Until I rose to his challenge."

I thought, in the long silence that passed between Arnold and myself, that Jim was giving me hints all along that it really was him. He had been trying desperately, without offending Arnold too much, to make me believe Arnold was the genuine article. Jim used to talk to me just the way he did tonight, only rougher.

For the first time I knew for sure that Jim had never left me, really, in all the years since he’d died. I had never told a single soul about our little side bets on the games we watched. Further, outside of that one time in public, when only one of his construction buddies was there to hear him, Jim had always spoken to me like a gentleman in public. Those were our secret games, just for the two of us and not to be shared. I set the pipe on the coffee table. I sat, silent, and continued to think. Finally, I spoke. 
 
I said to Jim, again directly but in a bit of a shaky voice. "Jim, why are you here?"

Arnold answered. "He says he’s here because he loves you. He says you and he have unfinished business. He says you’re quite a handsome bear, with your new beard and muscles, and that you’re depriving some nice bear out there of one hell of a good…" 

Arnold only slightly hesitated this time and didn’t blush, "Catch." I smiled. I knew Jim would have normally said to me, "…one hell of a good fuck!" but perhaps he did actually say catch this time, no longer needing to prove Arnold was really speaking for him.

There was a pause while I wiped my eyes on the sleeves of Jim’s favorite shirt. Arnold continued, "He says you haven’t been very quick about things. He says that he’s the one that died, not you and that he’s wondering if you’re brain damaged or something."
I laughed through my tears at that one.

Arnold continued, "He says he’s checked in on you from time to time these last seven years and expected you to have been dating at least by the third or forth year after he had died. He says he wants you to start living again."

At this, I broke down. I was sobbing. I had cupped my face in my hands and was crying like a child in front of a complete stranger.

The next thing I knew, Arnold had me in his arms and was rocking me back and forth from a kneeling position on the floor. He took the hands from my face and looked me in the eye. "Shhhh… It’s OK," he said, in a husky voice and then he kissed me.

I was shocked and broke the kiss immediately. I moved further back in the chair. A smile came over Arnold’s face. A smile I recognized and a twinkle in Arnold’s eyes told me that he wasn’t exactly himself.

"Oh Carl," he said, "it’s me. I asked if I could borrow Arnold’s body for a while and he agreed. He really feels for you, you know. He wants to help you about as much as I do."

I was confused, but in looking in Arnold’s eyes, I could really sense Jim in his body. 
 
"Look, Carl," Arnold said, with Jim’s inflections and mannerisms. "I can’t stay in this body for more than a few minutes at a time. It requires too much concentration to stay and even a willing participant tends to try to push you out. It’s a self defense mechanism the soul uses, kind of like spiritual antibodies. All of those stories about possession for months and years are nonsense. I have something important I want to tell you directly. You’re life is going to improve a whole lot more soon, if you’ll let it and if the other person involved in improving you life is agreeable. I meant what I said when I came to you in your dream that night. You need to find someone and be happy. I want you to keep your mind open to the possibility of dating and settling down with another nice bear. If you can do that, I can move on to whatever’s waiting for me beyond that tunnel of light I’m supposed to go through. Now, promise me you’ll stop moping around like some damned kid," he growled.

"I promise," I said, nearly choking on the tears.

"Good!" he said in a louder stern voice."See that you keep that promise." He was being Papa Bear now. He softened, smiled and squeezed my shoulder.

Then he looked over at the coffee table and a whimsical smile played on his lips. He picked up the half-smoked pipe, put it between his teeth and said. "You got a light? It’s been seven years and I want just one last puff, before I go. But make it fast, Arnold is getting uncomfortable."

I reached in the pocket of the flannel shirt and handed him the monogrammed silver lighter I’d given Jim for our third anniversary. He puffed the pipe into life and drew the smoke in deeply. He closed his eyes and smiled. He very slowly let it out through his nose, savoring the flavor and smell as though he was locking it into his memory. He took another deep draw, moved toward me and gave me a long smoky French kiss, squeezing my crotch gently as he did so.

He broke the kiss with a nip on my tongue and a lick of my lips. He put the pipe and lighter back in my hands and stood. "I’ve got to go, Carl; I’ll check in on you. But I’ll be back if I’m not convinced that you’re getting you’re life back together." 
 
"I love you Jim," I said, with tears streaming down my face, "I always will." 
 
Arnold reached out and touched my face, cradling it in his big hand as Jim always had, tears standing in his eyes. "And I love you to, my love. I’ll be there to meet you on the other side, but you better not try to rush things like you did seven years ago. Life is short and life is precious, Carl. You were trying to join me way too soon. You get together with that nice bear I said might be coming along if you can. If it doesn’t work out, I want you to keep looking, you hear?"

He had returned to his Papa Bear stance and voice. I nodded. He continued with a merry glint in his eye, "Maybe we can get together for a threesome on the other side. You, your new husband and me. I can’t think of any better definition of heaven, can you?" He smiled devilishly. 
 
"Oh, and by the way," 'Papa' back in his voice. "The pipe, the leather tobacco pouch, the lighter, my great-grandfather’s razor, the shirt and any other shit I left lying around that you haven’t thrown out are all yours now, so you can stop saying ‘Jim’s this and that’, OK?" He smiled down at me.

Arnold turned around, walked back over to the couch and sat on Jim’s side. He looked over at me and said, "Good-bye, love. Be well." He winked and then, Arnold’s head bowed and Jim was gone.

Arnold raised his head and looked around. "How long was I out?" he said. 
 
"About five minutes." I said.

"There’s a really nasty taste in my mouth, can I have a drink of water or something?" he said, making a face.

"Sorry about that, Arnold. Jim wanted a last smoke before he left," I said as I puffed on the pipe. "It’s a taste that took me awhile to acquire. I’ll get you a beer if you like, that should wash away the taste." 
 
"Yeah, sure, that would be great." I noticed Arnold sort of avoided my gaze and had become a bit withdrawn. I went to the kitchen and came back with two beers and handed Arnold one and blew my nose on some tissues from the box on the coffee table.

"So, what happened while I was out?" Arnold asked, a bit hesitantly. "I usually don’t remember what’s happened while I’m possessed. Some mediums do and some don’t. I sort of go on vacation while a spirit possesses me. I have dreams that have nothing to do with what’s happening. It leaves me disoriented, when I come back."

Obviously he really didn’t have any memory of the events of those five minutes he was possessed and the disorientation would explain his odd behavior just now. I thought it best not to mention the incredible French kiss Jim gave me with Arnold’s mouth as a parting gift. It was exactly the way Jim used to kiss, though. Kisses are like fingerprints, no two people kiss the same and I knew exactly how Jim used to kiss me. He’d end each kiss with a little nip on my tongue and a little lick on my lips when he broke the kiss. That was exactly how Arnold had kissed me after inhaling the smoke from the Jim’s pipe.

"Well," I began, "Jim came over and hugged me and told me that it was damned well time I got my life back together and that he was going to keep coming back until I got it right. Of course that’s the quick version, he was a little more verbose than that about it. He told me he loved me and always would and then he took your body over to the couch, sat you down, winked at me and left."

We both sat and talked about the evening’s events and drank our beers. We spent a good number of hours talking about ghosts and the supernatural and other cases Arnold had worked on. I told Arnold all about Jim and when we had finished talking, at about one in the morning, I felt that he and I had begun a very good friendship. During the evening’s conversation, I found out that Arnold was also a Rams fan, just like Jim and invited him over to watch football sometime. He said that would be great and said he’d call when the Rams were playing next. He waved as he got into his car to leave. That night, I was not visited physically by Jim, but I had one Hell of a wet dream about Arnold. In the dream we were kissing and rubbing each other’s cocks together and then I felt Arnold explode all over my chest. I woke up smeared in my own come and I could have sworn I heard Jim’s chuckle.

It was about two months later that I heard from Arnold. It was one evening when I was sitting on the porch with my pipe and a beer, as usual. He rolled into the driveway and came up to the porch with his briefcase in his hand. We shook hands and I offered him a seat and a beer.

When I came back with the beer he had a serious look on his face. He opened the beer, took a sip and looked like he was struggling with something.

"What’s wrong, Arnold?" I asked. 
 
"Well," he said, "after the night I came over and we talked to Jim, some things happened," he said, hesitantly.

"What sort of things?" I asked.

"Jim hasn’t been back here, has he?" Arnold asked. 
 
"No, I don’t think so. I haven’t sensed him in the house since the night you came over. What’s going on?” I asked. 
 
"Well," he paused for a time and I could tell he was trying to find the right words. "Sorry, it’s kind of hard for me to start." 
 
"It’s OK," I said, "take your time."

He paused again, drank several gulps more of his beer while I reloaded my pipe and lit it up. "Carl, Jim has been visiting me off and on since the night I came over. At first he was just hanging around the house, talking about you. I feel I’ve known you for years because of the details Jim gave me and the images he flashed into my mind. Then Jim started talking to me about my life and how lonely I was and then he told me something about myself that I’ve known for years and have been hiding.” He paused and gulped.

“Carl, I’m gay." He paused again and furtively looked at me, then looked back down at his beer bottle. He continued, "Jim said he knew it when he possessed me. He could read it in my mind and he’s been reminding me almost daily that I was very turned on by you when I first saw you at the door. He reminded me of that tingle in my balls and at the base of my spine when I saw you there, with the pipe in your mouth as you answered the door. Jim said that I was attracted to his type of bear and that you were now very much the type of bear he was. Carl, I..." 
 
Arnold hesitated and swallowed hard, his hands were shaking as he said the next. "I’m beginning to feel the way he felt about you and not just because I could feel the love Jim had for you. He said he wouldn’t leave me alone until I came and talked to you. He restored the memory of when you, he and I kissed that night and frankly, I get stiff just thinking about that. He’s been visiting me in bed and, though I’m a complete virgin when it comes to sex with men, I think after what Jim has been doing to me at nights, I would really like to make love with you. He’s been inside of me, I mean inside of my anus."
Arnold blushed and hesitated before he went on. I took a long drink, put the pipe back in my mouth and puffed as he continued. "He’s been inside of my ass and I liked it. Last week he possessed me, I gave him permission of course, and he sort of played back a memory of making love with you while he possessed me. It seems he’s found a way of keeping me from going on vacation while he’s inside of my head. He and I jacked off together as we remembered you fucking him. I guess the Packers won that night or something." 
 
I smiled at that one, that comment was pure Jim.

"I’ve got to tell you," Arnold said, "I think you’re a really handsome man and I’m extremely attracted to you. Jim showed me in his memories the large brownish birthmark on your right inner thigh that’s sort of the shape of Alaska in the memory we shared. I thought it was cool looking. I was thinking that perhaps I was the…" 
 
He stopped at that point and looked over at me. He’d been studying his beer bottle very intently while he was talking about events of the last two months. I guess he’d figured he’d gone too far with the birthmark comment. It must have been the look on my face, because Arnold became even more nervous. I was shocked and I guess it showed.

He hurriedly said the next, "OK, I’m sorry. This is a complete mistake, I guess I should be going now." 

He began to get up and I bellowed a bit too loudly, like some drill sergeant, "Sit!" I could use the Papa Bear voice too. He sat back down like his legs had been kicked out from under him with a rather frightened look on his face.

"I’m sorry," I said in a soft voice, "I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just didn’t want you running off before I had a chance to say something. I was taken aback, a little, that Jim had shared so much of our relationship, like how I look naked." I paused and said the next with the gentlest most sincere voice I could possibly muster. "I think I would very much like to take you upstairs and make love with you Arnold, this very night. I want to explore every inch of your body and give you incredible pleasure."

Arnold blushed a deep crimson and studied his beer bottle again. I smiled and took his hand in mine. "It seems Jim has seen fit to fix us up, so let’s not disappoint him. He must really be anxious to move on. Hey, maybe he’s got a hot date waiting for him?" We both laughed.

"There’s something else,” Arnold said and he opened his briefcase. He pulled out a notepad. "It’s a message for you from Jim, he wrote it this morning when I agreed again to let him possess me. It was more like automatic writing, though. The man has a positively filthy mind!" 
 
I smiled. "Don’t I know it!" I said with a chuckle.

"He has showed me all sorts of things I can do during sex, over these last two months."
"Yeah," I said, "I got him a copy of the gay Kama Sutra for our first anniversary and he was determined to work his way through the book. He did so with me, two or three times, though some of the stuff we couldn’t do because we were too heavy or not limber enough."

Arnold blushed furiously.

"I’ve still got the copy upstairs." I said and winked at Arnold. He handed me the notebook and really started studying his beer bottle.

The hand was unmistakably Jim’s and what was written was in his idiom.

My love,

I have waited seven years for this. If you are reading this note, it’s because I have finally bugged Arn enough to make him visit you. I know you will grow to love him as much as you loved me, so give him a chance. I want you to know that I love him very much too. Over the last two months I’ve really gotten to know him and I’ve grown to love him. He and I have been sharing some memories, he’ll remember some things about you that I remembered about you. I think he’s falling in love with you just from the memories he and I have been sharing.

If I were still alive, I’d want you both as my husbear, or is that husbears? He is a gentleman, a good man. He will make you happy and I’m sure you will do the same for him. I really hadn’t planned this, but sometimes luck or fate drops things in your lap. I had no idea Arn was a bear until he let me possess him, but I started getting ideas just as soon as I found out.

I could see the way you looked at him when he came into the hallway and I recognized that look. It was the same look you used to give me and you have no idea how happy I was to see it on your face. I haven’t seen you in that kind of lust since I passed away.

When I possessed Arn, I could feel his attraction for you. I knew how you made him feel and I’ll let you in on a secret, he wasn’t just disoriented that night; he was trying to deny how he felt and didn’t want you to see how turned on he was becoming. It was a natural fit. I just needed to convince Arn to give you a shot. He’s really afraid of rejection. I’ll be watching as you read this note. If you plan to start a relationship with that gorgeous red head, just give him a kiss and I’ll be packing for that trip through that tunnel of light.

I will love you always,

Jim

I put the notepad down, stood, and took Arnold's hand in mine and pulled him up. He looked more than a little nervous. I looked over his shoulder and said loudly into the night, "OK Jim, start packing."

Arnold said, "He says you don’t have to yell. He’s standing right at the base of the porch steps."

I laughed. I drew on my pipe and French kissed Arnold deep and long. I nipped his tongue as we broke the kiss and licked his lips. Arnold was just a bit surprised. "No, Jim didn’t step in to kiss you, that was all me," I said. We stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind us. We held hands as we climbed the stairs and adjourned to my bedroom. We made love long into the night and I introduced Arnold to pleasures he’d never dreamed possible. I had learned a little from the gay Kama Sutra and committed it to memory. 
 
Arn and I have never heard from Jim again and we’ve been married for ten years now. I know Jim is happy for us, wherever he is. Maybe he’s just as happy as we are, with some hot bear on the other side. Maybe one day, we'll have a fourway.



Copyright © 2000 & 2015 - Bjorn Torson
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