Becoming the Bear

He paused and cradled Mitch's face in his big hairy calloused paw of a hand, bent to kiss his forehead and then continued.

Vic sighed. "Eddie was like those guys at Gettysburg I watched die from wounds that they should have lived through. I think they died because they gave up, gave into shock or maybe they just let go of life. I almost bled dry at Gettysburg, Walt; three holes in me but I crawled off into the woods so I wouldn't get shot anymore. I was twenty-two and was sure I was going to die but I hung on, hoping someone would come and patch me up. After it was over, in the night I remember I opened my eyes and saw the shadow of a big man hovering over me. At first I thought it was the grim reaper in the form of a bearish beast. I guess when you're that close to death you can see things not apparent to you otherwise, 'cause Sam told me later he hadn't changed; told me the dying can see things for what they are. I blinked and could barely make out that it was a bear wearing a Union uniform, big bushy beard, hugely muscular. I was sure he was there to drag me off or have me dragged off to the meat wagon, but instead he bent down and said, 'Hey son, you alive?' I managed to summon enough strength to say yes and that I guessed I wouldn't be much longer. Then he said, 'You're near whiter than a sheet, but damned if you ain't a fighter. I admire that and I'm gonna try to see to it you live to be an old man.' He took a real chance moving me, but a battlefield isn't the best place for surgery... or recuperation."

"He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, not knowing if I was going to live or die and carried me for thirty miles like that until sunrise. He found a cave, moved us into it. I was delirious with fever and he nursed me, kept me cool until my fever broke, fed me and cared for me as best he could until he was sure I was going to live and then he headed out on foot during the night for Ohio, carrying me all the way."

"The next thing I clearly remember was waking up in a farmhouse. Sam was there, the farm was owned by a friend of his, someone I learned later was one of us. After I changed, he cut those lead balls out of me. One had passed right through, but two were still in me, and they hurt like Hell coming out. He had felt the bullets with the finger he'd cut open and kept pushing into my wounds to spread his blood around inside.

Sam had had enough of the war; well, enough of all wars. We were both technically deserters, though he was sure that after that battle we'd just be counted as missing. We moved west when I had fully recovered, came out here to California. Sam told me he'd bled into my wounds and it saved my life, just the way you did yesterday to Mitch. He also told me what price that came at. I tell you right now, I was damned happy to be alive. The price to my mind wasn't any price at all. "

Vic faced Walt squarely. "Walt, look at me. Mitch will be the same as me, same as Sam, same as you; he's strong."

"I hope so." Walt said.

"I know so, son... I can feel it." Vic said. "Now, let's get some rest. One of us or both should be with him all the time when he sleeps for the next four months. He's gonna start having those dreams we have before the first change. His changing body is going to be sending clues to his mind and the revelation of what he's becoming when you tell him is going to really make his dreams weird. The violent primal nightmares are going to need comforting and reassurance and the bestial erotic dreams are going to need some explaining and he'll want sexual release when he wakes from them. I slept with you every night if you remember."

"Oh, I remember. I miss that, you know." Walt said.

"We'll fuck like old times later, cub. Let's have a nap first; winter always makes me sleepier than usual." Vic said and yawned. "He's going to need to be woken later and given more of that protein stuff."

Walt wrapped his arms around Mitch, yawned, and he and Vic cuddled closer to Mitch and were asleep in moments.

Chapter 8

It took four days, not three; but finally Mitch awoke for more than just a few minutes at a time to be fed liquids. He lay still for a few moments, then, rose up on an elbow. It was dark in the room, very dark. He didn't know where he was for a moment and then he realized he was in the lodge. On either side of him, a large man snored soundly. It was soothing, regular, comforting snoring coming from the men; one he could tell was Walt and the other, he turned to look... the other looked familiar, but he couldn't place him as he couldn't see him well enough in the reflected lights from various electrical sources in the room. The LED clock on the night stand, the DVD display from the built in, in the wall and what light came from a halogen lamppost outside in the driveway were not enough. Perhaps it was Moose in bed with him and Walt... but if that was the case, where was Rusty?

Then he remembered pain in his side, a wooden spike that had pierced his side like a javelin when he'd fallen. It went into his lung and he was so cold, so wet, bleeding out, watching his blood mix with the ice water puddle, unable to move for the pain and the torqued leg and hip. His head swam. He felt around, searching for where the branch hand pierced him and had broken off inside, but discovered no wound, no bandage... nothing except his furry side as it had always been. The leg felt normal, a little sore but in cold weather, his joints felt sore anyway. The wind was howling outside just as it had begun to when he'd fallen... or had he fallen? Was it a bad dream? It must have been, but he couldn't remember how he'd gone from taking a hike to sleeping with Walt and the unknown furball beside him. He'd had dreams, nightmares; being naked and alone in a cave beside a fire like a Neanderthal and a bear wrapping around him. Then there was one about a bumpy ride in a Jeep driven by a great golden bear, but the next instant it was... was it Coach Franklin with a beard? Walt was holding him saying things to comfort him. Surely Coach Franklin had passed on years ago, he was pushing forty, forty years ago. But this man looked the same as he had when Mitch was a teen. Even if Mr. Franklin were alive, he'd be eighty or more years old. Dreams were strange, they blended things together stealing memories from the past and mixing them with phantasms.

Mitch shook his head. Oh, well; he'd wake up tomorrow and find he'd had a bad dream, that he'd come back from the hike, had wild sex with Walt and the stranger, had gotten heroically drunk on Peppermint Schnapps and beer and had passed out early... or something like that. He snuggled close to Walt; and Walt, without waking, pulled him close. The huge furry beast on the other side of him stirred at the motion, rolled over and draped his muscular furry arm over the cuddled pair, also without waking. Mitch, now sandwiched between the two, buried his face in Walt's chest fur and drank in his musky, spicy, warm scent and sighed. He decided to enjoy this particular dream as long as it lasted. He was a lucky man. Two bears snuggled close to him... what a dream! After a few minutes, Mitch was soundly back asleep.

Later, Mitch came awake to the sound of the shower running but kept his eyes closed. The deep sleepy grunts of a man stretching under the hot stream of a shower echoed from the bathroom. It didn't sound like Walt in the shower and besides, Mitch felt Walt's presence next to him. Mitch opened his eyes and turned his head and sure enough, Walt was there beside him, looking at him the way a man in love does.

"Morning, buddy. How you feel?" Walt asked.

"A little tired, but other than that, fine." Mitch answered. "What happened? Who's in the shower?"

Walt smiled, "It's a secret!" His smile faded. "Look, while we're alone, I need to tell you something."

Walt's demeanor became very serious; he took Mitch's hand and said, "You were in an accident about five days ago. You were hiking and you fell, a pine branch punctured your lung."

Mitch looked at Walt incredulously, "No... That was a dream... a bad dream. Look!" Mitch turned the area of his torso toward Walt, "No wound, no bandage, nothing. And how did you know about my dream?"

"Actually, you healed completely in less than an hour and I know because it wasn't a dream. I was there," Walt said and the look on his face said, 'I'm not lying.'

"How? No one heals that fast." Mitch challenged.

"Actually, some do. I do; and now you will too. Well, not as fast as me presently though you heal faster than most people do now. A few months from now, you'll heal as quickly as I do. The reason you healed that fast was that my blood entered your wound, worked its way down into the damaged area and repaired it." Walt said and again, he was dead serious.

Mitch looked at Walt like he needed fittings for a straight jacked and a rubber room. "So, you're telling me you're like that comic book hero, that... Wolf guy... the one in the movies with the blades that come out between his knuckles?"

"Well, sort of, yes; but not the same. You're going to need proof," Walt said and with that he reached over to the night stand, opened the drawer and pulled out a small hunting knife. Mitch's eyes went wide and he reached for the knife but before he could, Walt put it in his teeth like a pirate and rolled over to pin Mitch's shoulders with his knees. He took the knife out of his teeth.

"You need to see this buddy, you need to understand." Walt said.

Mitch's eyes were wild and Walt casually put the point of the knife to the palm of his hand, winced and made a quick but deep cut on his right palm. 'I might heal fast, but it still hurts like Hell.' Walt said through gritted teeth.

Walt cupped his hand and blood pooled in it. Mitch cried out for help. A little blood fell on his chest. It wasn't a trick, it was warm and it smelled like blood with that same coppery, metallic scent. Walt tipped his cupped hand to his lips and drank. He licked and showed Mitch the palm. It was bloody and the gash oozed a little bright blood. Before his eyes, Walt's wound closed, leaving a thin, bright pink line that hadn't completely healed yet. Walt licked away the blood trickling down his arm and cleaned his palm. The mark was gone.

"That's why you didn't die out there, that and the fact that I got to you before hypothermia killed you. It was still damned close." Walt said.

"This is a trick." Mitch said, "It has to be!"

"You want me to cut myself again?" Walt dabbed his finger in the blood that had dropped onto Mitch's chest and wiped it on his lip. "Taste it Mitch, it's my blood right from my heart." Mitch couldn't help himself, he licked it, he had to know if it was cherry syrup. It wasn't. "I'll do it as often as you need me to, Mitch. I'll cut and heal a hundred times for you; more, if that's what it takes." Walt said and placed the knife against his palm to repeat the demonstration.

"No!" Mitch said, reaching for Walt's nearly healed hand. "Don't... please."

Walt climbed off Mitch and handed him the knife. Mitch examined it.

"That's the same knife I used to slit my wrist three times to get enough blood into your wound to heal you." Walt said matter-of-factly.

It was a real knife. It wasn't a trick. Mitch felt like he was going insane.

As if reading his mind Walt said, "You're not crazy. I'm not crazy. It happened and now you have to know why." Walt took a deep breath. "Mitch... me and the handsome guy in the shower are werebears; and now you will be too. Once our blood, semen, or plasma enter your body, you start becoming... a werebear. I told you I didn't have AIDS or VD and I told you I had reasons for not barebacking you... this is the reason. I wanted to love you, but I didn't want to change you. I wanted to live the rest of your life with you, but not change you without your knowledge and consent." Walt sat back. "You were dying, Mitch." Walt's eyes were glossy with tears, "I did all I could, I really tried, but I don't know enough about first aid and even if I did, I don't think you would have lived with just that, you were too far gone. I had no choice, it was the only option I had left and after all this time, just when we'd gotten back together, I... I couldn't let you die. Not after all the letters I sent you for the reunions, to get back into your life."

"Those came from you?" Mitch asked. "You sent those?"

"I've been trying to get together with you since high school. I asked the committee members at the first reunion when I hoped I would see you and their policy is to not waste further effort after a non-response. So, I made copies of everything they sent me and sent it to you. I love you Mitch, I always have, since before I told Moose in the locker room that he didn't have hair because he didn't have balls." Walt said. "I couldn't let you die. It was selfish, but I changed you. I just couldn't let you die like that."

Mitch's head was swimming. "Woah, hold on. This is too much!"

Walt smiled a little sadly. "Oh, that's nothing. Just watch, my cub. The show is only beginning," he said flatly.

Walt closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He rolled his head on his neck and shook his arms and legs like he was limbering up for a sprint or something. When he opened his eyes again and fixed them on Mitch's bright blue eyes, they were changing from Walt's usual gray to chocolate brown. Mitch watched muscles tense and flex under Walt's iron-gray pelt. It looked like small animals crawling around under his skin. Walt seemed to be growing taller and in fact he was, he was groaning as his limbs stretched and grew, his stance shifting as muscles expanded, inflating his arms and legs. Walt's already large meaty chest was barreling out more with each deep breath. Mitch watched with no small amount of lust as Walt's balls grew in size and hung lower in an increasingly furry lengthening sack. Walt was becoming erect, his large penis throbbing, the thick blue veins that wrapped around his cock stood out, pumping blood into his member, but more, his cock was changing shape. It grew to its ordinary, impressive length and then continued growing as the mushroom head flattened out. A bulge grew in the middle in the way a bear's cock did. Internally, a baculum grew, making Walt stiff even when not aroused.

Mitch looked up. Walt's face was morphing. A muzzle was growing out of his face. His beard and mustache joined by silver brown fur growing on the bridge of his nose, his upper cheeks, his forehead. His nose was flattening out and becoming darker, first brown and then black and moist, changing shape as it did so. It looked like something from a werewolf movie. Fangs growing through his gums and over his human teeth as the muzzle lengthened. His ears were becoming furry and shifting higher on his head, indeed his whole face seemed to be jutting forward as his skull took on a new shape. Powerful jaw muscles bulged out at the side and muscles at Walt's temples did the same, giving him a round 'moon face' typical of grizzly bears. Silver brown fur was growing through his body hair, engulfing it, enveloping the man Mitch loved in a dense warm coat and hiding all of Walt's bear tats and every square inch of his pink skin. Walt was growing wider with bulk, his belly was rounder as his guts grew. Walt's shoulders shifted forward changing his stance, his hands and feet were becoming paws; his nails were being pushed out by curved dark brown claws as his fingers became toes. Paw and toe pads grew on his palms and fingertips, his hands and feet becoming full paws in seconds. Walt growled softly and made a deep motor-like noise bears make when experiencing pleasure. The change was obviously pleasurable for him, his cock had become three inches wide and by Mitch's estimate, a good foot or so long; the final size of his balls were about the size of duck eggs. Behind, Walt had grown the classic muscular shoulder hump that helped a grizzly dig and above his furry butt, a stubby tail had grown. As the fur grew to full length, Walt dropped to all fours, his change completed. He wasn't half form, the hybrid that could perform the dexterous tasks humans could; Walt was in full grizzly shape.

Mitch was rock hard and drooling precum Walt's shiny black nose quivered as he sniffed the air and he moved to the bed. He moved up onto the bed, his forelegs separating Mitch's legs. He regarded Mitch with his big brown, puppy dog like eyes and in one quick move, he sucked Mitch's hard penis into his muzzle like a hotdog. Again, Walt made the deep motor-like pleasure noises as he nursed on Mitch's cock.

Mitch let out a startled cry and then began moaning uncontrollably as Walt began giving Mitch the most fantastic blowjob he'd ever had. Walt's long bear tongue worked over Mitch's tool in ways no human could, simultaneously rubbing his shaft and tickling his balls. Walt rolled the cock around in his mouth, pressing it against the roof of his muzzle, massaging it and sucking like a pump.

"Oh fuck!" Mitch growled, "Is this bestiality?" He was thinking it and didn't realize he'd said it out loud.

The man in the shower came around the corner as Mitch spoke aloud, drying his short hair with a towel, another towel was wrapped around his waist, but his hefty cock tented it out. "No, not really. You are becoming our species, after all." Vic said.

Mitch moaned as Walt took both balls and cock into his mouth. He looked over at the tall blond man and recognition fought against reason and finally won out. He stammered out, "C-Coach, is that you?" Mitch gasped as Walt's bear tongue wrapped itself around his meat; his eyes almost crossing in pleasure.

"The same, pup! I'm gonna go fix breakfast while you two get down to some werebear sex. Ya like what my cub is doin' to ya?" Mitch jerked in a spasm of pleasure and moaned out a 'yes', "Imagine how good it's gonna be for you both when you can return the favor?" Vic said, a huge grin on his face. Coach thought, "No fuckin' way Mitch is gonna end it like Eddie did, he's taking to bearsex like a duck to water."

He smacked Walt on his big round ass with a strong whack which was completely muffled by Walt's thick fur; it barely moved his huge frame. "Have fun, kids!" Vic said and closed the bedroom door on the way to the kitchen.

Mitch turned his attention to what Walt was doing to him. He watched as the big bear's head bobbed up and down on his straining erection, felt the gentle rasp of his tongue on his sensitive tip and nearly lost it when the bear swallowed him down to the root. Nearly out of his mind with unbelievably good feelings, Mitch rolled back and forth, gripping the sheets. "Please, Walt... please stand up. I want to see you again." Mitch was panting.

Walt stood up, breathing softly, snorting a bit through his nose. His pelt shone in the light from the bathroom, his chocolate brown eyes glinted with intelligence and lust. Heavy arms and legs ended in paws tipped in wicked looking claws that glinted in the light. His thick bearcock was truly awesome, the end glistening with precum, veins throbbing with pumped blood. He stood there, waiting Mitch's response, fearing the worst.

"Gods... you are magnificent," Mitch sighed. "Can you understand me?" Walt nodded. "Can you talk?" Walt shook his great ursine head and growled. If they were words, Mitch couldn't make them out. He looked at the beast before him, knowing those claws could shred him to bloody ribbons in an instant; but felt no fear, only a kind of wonder.

"Come here. I want to hug you." Walt padded over to Mitch in a slightly awkward ursine gait. Mitch stood on the bed to bring himself at least somewhat near to Walt's height and put his arms around the bear's chest, digging his fingers deep into the dark grizzly fur. He buried his face deep in the muscled chest and inhaled. The heady spicy scent of bear musk was strong at first, but with the second inhalation, Mitch was overwhelmed with new feelings. Raw sensuality competed with a sense of wildness, of a need to hunt, a need to roam far in the open air. Mitch felt as if his cock would explode. He felt as if his entire skin had become a sexual organ, tingling and alive. His mouth searched for the bear's nipple, and finding one, latched on, sucking hard as he felt the nub harden and distend. Walt growled in appreciation and cradled Mitch's head close with one great paw so he could nurse and chew. With the other, he cupped Mitch's butt. The beast rumbled deep in his chest and Mitch felt as well as heard the vibrations through the bone, muscle, and fur.