Bears, page 2
“Goddamn sadist!”
I go nose to nose. “Now you’re making me mad!”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry who?”
“Sorry, Mr. Brad, Sir!”
“That’s better.” I raise my eyebrows. “Three more.” Abe nods.
“Three more real good ones!” I shout as I position myself. Abe clenches his ass muscles. “Count them.” I order. I grab the paddle with both hands and knock Abe into the cross.
“Oh Christ.” He’s almost sobbing. I wait. He calms down and clenches his body.
“Well?” I ask.
A pause. “Shit! One. Er, one, Sir!”
“Good,” I acknowledge through my evil leer.
The crowd, silent until now, applauds. “That-a-way, Abe!” “Go for it, Abe!” “That’s our bear!”
“Next one! Ready?” Only a practiced eye can detect Abe’s nod.
I put my weight behind the swing. A primordial rumble rises through Abe’s frame and erupts into a scream. He shakes the cross so violently that a few eyes glance at its moorings.
Again, I wait.
“Two, Sir,” he sputters.
And waits.
But I return the paddle to its spot against the wall, and grab a white oar. I slide my fingers across its surface, testing for possible splinters. None. Very smooth. I walk over to Abe. We’re both soaked with slime, not sex sweat, but hard-work sweat. I rest my palm on his shoulder.
“Still okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Last one.”
He nods, but his clenched muscles reflect his inner terror.
“Relax.”
He does. In a way.
I plant the oar handle between his legs. It passes between his cheeks and splays into a broad blade that leans against his back.
“What the…?”
“As I said, last one.” I pat his butt.
Silence hovers in the air. I take a few practice swings. I know Abe can feel the rippling breeze.
“For Christ’s sake, hit me and get it over with!”
Wham!! The oar flattens Abe’s ass. He yowls like a cat with its tail caught in a heavy screen door. He bangs his fists into the cross and sobs. Ted grabs the oar; I trot around Abe, and rest my hand on his shoulder until he looks up. I smile.
“You did great.”
“It’s over, huh?”
I don’t answer. Shaun lifts a water bottle to Abe’s mouth before he can repeat his question. He drinks, and Shaun wipes his face with a damp towel.
Ted walks over. We exchange glances and I move to the side.
“Your energy okay?” Ted asks Abe.
“I guess…like, yeah.”
“Sure?”
“Yup.”
“Then I’m going to blindfold you.”
Abe mutters a few syllables, munches on his lower lip, and stands stock-still, at least for a few seconds. Ted covers Abe’s eyes with a fleece-lined black leather blindfold, adjusts the double nylon straps over and under his hairy ears, and asks again, “Okay?”
Abe nods.
“Should be,” Joe sniggers. “It’s the deluxe model.”
Ted throws a scowl at Joe and flicks his fingertips across Abe’s butt. “Good bear, you’re learning. I won’t need to muzzle you.”
“Or squeeze a tight hood over that fat head,” choruses Alvin.
Another scowl, this one aimed at Alvin.
“Got the bucket?” Ted asks Joe impatiently.
Joe parks a bright orange pail near Ted and drops a sponge in Ted’s outstretched hand. The bucket is half-full of water.
Ted drops his arm into the water and swirls the sponge around, making as much sloshing noise as possible.
“What the…?” mutters a squirming Abe.
“Hold still,” Ted commands.
He drags the sponge across Abe’s back, squeezing as it travels from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Icy rivulets of water creep downward through a forest of sweat-matted hair.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Abe screams.
Abe’s head sinks to his chest. Ted towels him off. “Hey, that tickles,” Abe snorts.
“So will this.” Ted aims a pink hair dryer at Abe’s back and flicks it on high. A roar of laughter overpowers the motor’s growl as hot air traverses Abe’s back. If bears could purr, Abe would, judging by the subtle but sensuous, swaying of his shoulders.
The blast of hot air wends its way to the small of Abe’s back. Ted turns the dryer off and laterals it to Alvin who replaces it with a large blue brush. Ted rubs the stiff bristles across the pad of his hand. Joe hands him a blue comb.
“Gotta move fast before he works up a sweat,” Ted shouts to his audience.
He combs and brushes Abe’s forest into a smooth, flat pelt. He steps back, examines his subject, touches up a few unruly strands, and nods. Applause erupts. He bows.
“Find any fleas?”
“Our own Hirsute Couturier!” More applause. Another bow.
“The grand finale,” Ted announces.
“Shit! What’s left?” Abe shouts. “How much more can you humiliate a guy?”
“You’ll see!” Alvin and Joe chorus. They secure his upper thighs to the cross with one-inch-wide leather straps, and his waist with a four-inch strap.
Ted studies Abe’s back, chin resting in his palm. He traces imaginary lines with his index finger, almost brushing, but not touching, the shiny, flat coat.
“Careful, don’t raise his hackles,” Joe warns.
“Now, very still,” Ted orders Abe.
“You’re not gonna cut me, are you?” Abe whines.
“I said, ‘Still.’ Very, very, still,” Ted intones.
Abe nods.
Ted stretches his hand out, his eyes still locked on Abe’s back. Alvin places a battery powered moustache trimmer in his palm. Alvin and Joe position themselves behind the cross and pin Abe’s shoulders and upper arms.
Silence. Not even a sigh. Everyone in the room, save Ted, emulates Abe’s statuary stance.
Ted places his hand on the back of Abe’s head and turns on the trimmer.
“Goddamn,” Abe gurgles, “a violet wand.”
Ted makes the first pass, pulls hair from the teeth, and drops it onto the towel. Another pass, faster than the first one; a quick horizontal shear to join the two. A little trimming and a splendid A emerges on Abe’s back, pale white skin blazing through a black forest.
Ted blows his warm breath over the letter, pats Abe’s butt, and whispers, “Good job, Mr. Bear.” Abe’s back muscles flicker, and then relax, and his chin drops to his chest. His breathing passes from rapid pants to deep sighs.
The b and e, while not as large, take longer to form, since their curves require persnickety pruning.
Mission accomplished. The rainbow towel is awash in soggy hair. Ted shakes his boots and steps back. He admires his inscription, puts down his tools, and strides to the rear of the cross. He gives Alvin and Joe a thumbs-up; they return the gesture, and then undo Abe’s bondage.
Ted whispers to Abe. “Easy does it. I’m taking off your blindfold. Keep your eyes closed.” Ted removes the blindfold and cups Abe’s head in his palms. “Now slowly open your eyes.”
Abe blinks his eyes and stares at Ted. “What happened? Did I fall asleep?”
“Perhaps,” Ted replies. “You were pretty quiet toward the end.”
“I don’t remember the end.”
“Don’t try. You can stretch out now. Alvin and Joe are here.”
Abe steps back from the cross and jiggles his wrists. He gulps from the water bottle Alvin gives him and looks at his feet. He shakes his head.
“Now I remember. What’d you do to my back?”
Joe positions Abe in front of one of the many large mirrors in the dungeon, and Alvin places a hand mirror in his paw.
“See for yourself,” Ted says.
Abe swings the mirror back and forth. A smile, a frown, a hint of anger fight for control of his face. The frown wins.
“Christ, guys, how can I go to the gym, the beach, take my shirt off at Mom and Dad’s? Jesus!”
“C’mon,” Ted says, “you have a personally monogrammed hair shirt.”
“Yeah,” Alvin pipes in, “you don’t need a tattoo.”
“Or an ID bracelet,” Joe adds.
“Besides, it’ll grow back,” Ted says, concluding the barrage. “Happy birthday, Abe!”
It works; the smile wins. The bears break rank and mob Abe with roars of congratulations. Shaun and I approach.
“Thanks for being here, you two. And you, bear cub, that was you, wasn’t it?” he asks, rubbing his dick.
“Yes, Sir Bear,” Shaun responds; if he had a tail, it would be wagging.
“Well, we have some unfinished business, don’t we?” Abe looks at me. “All three of us.”
I nod, and Shaun joins in.
Ted breaks into our circle and puts his arm around Abe’s waist. “Well, birthday bear, shall we watch you open presents or eat?”
“Eat!”
INTO THE WOODS
Karl Taggart
Outdoors for me is walking to Starbucks for a latte, so when friends insisted I join them on a hike into the woods, I should have known better. I’d only come on the trip to Mount Shasta because we weren’t camping, but I had to admit I liked the mountain looming nearby and the clear, pine-scented air. It was when they hatched a plan to hike into the Castle Crags Wilderness that red flags went up.
“Wilderness?”
“That’s just a name,” I was assured. “It’s part of the national forest, clearly marked trails, an easy walk.”
The prodding went on until I gave in. It was no big deal, they said, I’d be with them, I’d have my cell phone, it was just a nice afternoon jaunt in the great outdoors.
When I got lost in the Castle Crags Wilderness my first thought was See? My second was total panic. All I’d done was go off trail to pee since we were mixed company, and by the time I needed to pee I had unfortunately gained enough confidence to insist they continue without me. “I’ll catch up in a minute,” I said.
Once I’d gained relief against a huge fir tree and started back to join the gang, I found the trail gone and my friends with it. I called out but got no answer so I tried my phone but of course when you really need one there’s never a signal. I looked up at the Crag, a huge granite monstrosity, knowing it to be the culprit, then turned and went back toward the pee tree to regain direction, but now I couldn’t find even that. Suddenly I was surrounded by a maze of trees that quickly took on the feel of bars on a cage. Impulse set me running but this proved nearly impossible as the forest floor is a messy place littered with fallen branches, dead leaves and needles, dry crackling things, and wet squishy things. Branches slapped and clawed me but I pressed on, calling out to no avail.
Maybe I should stop and wait for them to find me, I thought, so I sat on a fallen log, attempting calm. Then something rustled under me and I was again in mad flight.
And then, when I was out of breath and all seemed hopeless, when I knew I’d never find my way out and would be eaten by wolves, the forest opened up to a narrow river that glided along peacefully. I collapsed onto its shore, shed my backpack, and rested. When I’d gained my breath and some of my wits, I scooped handfuls of icy water, drank some and splashed my face.
It was sunny here without the green forest canopy and I lay on the shore thinking maybe I’d stay put until I could be found. The day was warm, and my spot was beautiful once I let go of the idea I might die there. They had to be searching by now and soon I’d hear voices and endure all manner of tenderfoot jokes that I would welcome, anything so long as I was back with people.
Once rested, I took a good look around and it was then that I saw the bear. It stood upriver, head bobbing in the water as if drinking or maybe fishing. I froze, afraid he’d hear me or see me, then considered it likely he’d smell me. Something told me not to run, that I’d attract more attention in flight and weren’t bears known to be fast?
Minutes passed as I hoped he’d move on upstream or maybe lope off into the forest, but as fate had already established, it was not my day; he did not leave. Instead he stood up. His back to me, he seemed huge and for a second the term Bigfoot came to mind but no, it was a bear. Bears were known to sometimes stand on two feet.
He turned his face skyward like some sun worshipper while I kept watching and I started to realize his fur wasn’t quite right, nor was his shape. His legs were too long and his ass too defined. As if he sensed my interest, he turned around, and I was treated to an incredible sight.
He was thick like an animal, flesh to guarantee survival, formidable thighs, huge arms, massive chest, shaggy head and face, all a deep rich brown. His wet fur glistened in the sun and again he looked skyward. He was beautiful in the most rugged way because I saw now he was man rather than bear, although he did seem to be crossing the line. My initial fear eased to apprehension, then curiosity, then interest, mainly because he had a big pink cock. And it was hard.
He turned to one side and arched toward the sun, which made the dick all the more prominent, ramrod growing out of a thicket. It was such a human posture yet he didn’t touch himself, and this made me wonder what he’d been doing to get into that state. Had some forest creature aroused him then fled or did he romp through the forest erect with the promise of unknown conquest? A shudder ran up my spine, arousal tinged with fear.
I sat perfectly still because I didn’t think he’d seen me and he basked in the sun several more minutes, then bent forward and slid into the water. I watched him go under and surface, bottom breaching like a whale, and I thought of that stiff prick cutting the water like a rudder. He swam and rolled, floated on his back, frolicking in a pool created by an outcropping of land. With him on his back, the cock stood like a mast but still he didn’t handle it and I admired his restraint. With a tool like that I’d have been incessant.
He finally stood and walked to the opposite shore. There was no towel awaiting him, no camping gear, nothing. He shook like a wet dog, wiped his face with his forearm, then started into the woods. A fresh wave of panic hit me and I ran into the water, boots and all, because I couldn’t be left alone again.
Once I was across the river the forest attacked me and I tripped over fallen logs and navigated around thick shrubs. Everything was scented with pine and a kind of earth musk, damp where the sun could not pierce the thick green canopy, dry where it broke through. I could see the creature up ahead. He seemed in no hurry, making his way easily through the same forest that put up obstacles at my every step. Then finally he stopped at a small clearing, turned and looked right at me, and I, heart pounding, did not run away.
The hefty pink cock seemed to gain from its juxtaposition against the brown fur, contrast heightening my perception. I was caught up in something I’d never seen, a big dick in unique display, untouched for the present, which enhanced the usual aspect. Maybe he liked me watching; maybe that was what he did, run around with a stiff dick until something or somebody became interested. Maybe living alone in the forest where animals rutted at will gave him a need to display, and with the eyes of man upon him, he enjoyed the novelty of one of his own. Meanwhile, I was mesmerized by the dick and secondarily by the creature, even as I considered the possibility of being fucked by what might not quite be human. The ultimate exchange, between man and beast. Not a bear but not wholly a man either, sex with him would be a trip to the other side. I slowly approached.
“I’m lost,” I said as I entered the little glade that seemed carved out of the forest. Shrubs had been crushed, leaves gathered into a corner like a large nest—or bed.
He gave no reply and I had to consider he had no speech, the animal primary as the man gave way.
“Can you help me?” I kept talking because he might understand and because it calmed me even though I felt nearly strangled by a mix of arousal and fear. My cock stirred only because no man could look at a piece of flesh that big and not wish to engage, especially when the animal had such a human quality. And I saw then that I was coming to a decision about him. Bigfoot? Maybe, because he had to be a good six foot six and because he was so incredibly furred yet there was skin to be seen around the eyes and on the forehead and cheeks.
I approached with a hand outstretched and he let me pet him. My movements were careful and as nonthreatening as I could manage and I kept up a calm monologue, assuring him I was a friend in need. He looked down at me with curious brown eyes, watching my hand stroke his chest until I found a tit nub on a fleshy pectoral. I began to rub and he did not object and I felt the nub harden. It was pinkish brown and I thought about how it would feel on my tongue but he put a hand on my shoulder then and eased me down onto his bed.
What began as slow and tentative now became urgent as he flipped me onto my stomach, pushed down my pants and underwear, and rammed the fat prick into me. I cried out because it hurt like hell but oh what a fuck: rapid thrusts, hefty grunts, his fingers digging into my hips and, minus claws, confirming him human.
He was quick to come, mere seconds of hard thrusts and grunts to match and then a roar that set the forest into motion, birds taking flight, small animals scuttling away, and I knew he was shooting his creature come into me.
He withdrew as abruptly as he’d entered, then rolled onto his back and left me there exposed, ass high, butthole chafed and tingling. I fell over beside him and took my dick in hand, working it while looking up at the green canopy. Then suddenly the creature was on his side watching me, eyes fixed on my meat.
“Help me out,” I said and he got the idea but instead of his paw, I got his mouth.
For a second I feared I’d become an appetizer and he’d bite off my morsel, then consume the whole of me, but he surprised me with his tongue, licking until I was nearly crazy, then sucking, which caused me to shoot.
He swallowed the entire load and when he pulled off he was licking his lips and I saw more of his pink, eager tongue and juicy mouth. I smiled my thanks and lay back on his bed, exhaustion overtaking me. As I drifted toward sleep, I cared nothing about the facts—lost in the woods, fucking a strange creature. I felt satisfied and, oddly, safe.
