by Ava Hunt
His muscles quaked under his skin, rendering him immobile on the ground. His throat constricted and he gasped for what little air he could get.
The heat inside of him pulse and his entire body broke out into a sweat. He groaned, thinking he had somehow been set on fire. His legs were covered in thick brown hair and he watched it crop up on his arms. He managed enough strength to lift up his shirt. There was more hair. He touched it. The texture was rougher than hair and very thick. Bile rose in this throat. It wasn’t hair. It was fur.
I’m dreaming. He closed his eyes, willing his body to awaken. I have to be dreaming. Why am I growing fur all over my body?
A splitting headache ripped through his skull and he bellowed between gritted teeth. The bones in his jaw cracked and popped. The sound of ripping fabric was far away in his ears, barely heard over his groaning. He struggled to keep his eyes open though his vision was full of blinking black spots.
His arms and legs straightened as if he were chained down and the fur grew longer until his hands disappeared under it. He fought whatever was happening to him but it was futile as it overtook him. He had no strength to move from his spot. He closed his eyes against the breaking of his bones and willed himself to pass out. The sweet relief never came. He felt every single second of the strange transformation. Why had he found so hard to live when now all he wanted to do was die. He imagined meeting his father again. A tear warmed his eye though it didn’t fall against his cheek, it soaked the fur on his face instead.
Time slowed. He could have been there for hours. When his eyes opened, he knew it hadn’t been that long. The moon hung high in the sky surrounded by sparkling stars. The heavens mocked him. He’d been given a second chance at life and days later he was lying on the ground about to die again.
Slow, even breaths escaped between his lips. A rumble emerged from his chest. At least I’m still breathing.
He tested his hands, they moved. With the intense pain of cracking bones, he could have been paralyzed. Thank God for small mercies.
He tested his legs. Those worked too. He rocked his body back and forth. Everything seemed to be working. And surprisingly there wasn’t any more pain. He rolled onto his side, automatically landing on all fours. A rumble rattled his chest, his voice huskier than before.
Something was between his eyes and he swatted at it. A large paw filled his vision. He jumped backwards and the thing in his face followed him. So did the paw.
He swatted again and the paw connected with his face. He cried out, the sound deep and animalistic.
He caught his reflection in the sliding door and trudged closer. The face staring back at him wasn’t his. It wasn’t even human. It was a bear.
Chapter Eight
Toby cried out again, the sound strange in his ears. This couldn’t be happening. He lifted his legs and arms, the bear in the reflection mirroring his movements. The thing he’d been swatting at was his nose, awkward and large between his eyes.
“Toby?” A man’s voice called from the edge of Toby’s property.
Bear-Toby jumped, his hulking body slammed into the sliding door. He felt the glass bow under his weight but thankfully it didn’t break like the table.
“I heard a ruckus, are you okay? “It was Don, dressed in boxer briefs and a t-shirt.
Toby tried to hide but there wasn’t anything large enough to get behind. He stumbled into the house, poking his head out to see where Don was.
Don made his way through the gate separating their yards. Shit. “I’m okay—” Toby attempted forgetting he no longer had a voice. A series of grunts escaped his mouth instead. He wanted Don to leave him alone for once.
Toby backed into the house, pressing his body against the wall.
“What the hell?” Don said.
Toby risked a look to see Don staring at Toby’s ripped clothes.
“Holy shit!” Don cried and stumbled back. They locked eyes. “You-You stay away from me.” Don tried to lift the metal chair from the patio set but it was heavier than he expected. He struggled with it for a minute before hiding behind it.
Toby hadn’t been dreaming. This nightmare was as real as the day was hot. Don saw the same thing Toby had in his reflection. He held his hands in front of him as a gesture of good faith. Don’s eyes widened and Toby knew whatever he looked like wasn’t helping the situation.
Don’s legs shook and he eyed Toby then the fence. He turned away from Toby and ran to his house. “Sally! Call the police. There’s a damn bear in Toby’s house. I think Toby is hurt.”
At that moment, Toby knew he could hide inside of the house and possibly be caught by the police, and then murdered. Or—he could run.
He ran.
Toby raced past the neighborhood houses, hoping that no one else was up that late at night. He was unsteady on his paws at first but he figured out the rhythm quickly. Fear for his life made him adaptable. Sirens blared in the distance, increasing his adrenaline. He had to get as far away from them as possible. Then he had to hide. Where could he go? Were bears even prevalent in that area? Would there be a search for him? Why the hell did he turn into a bear to begin with?
Questions flooded his mind, enough to fog his thoughts. He hadn’t expected anyone to be on the road that late until headlights appeared. He stood in the middle of the road, disoriented by the bright lights. Thumping bass rung in his ears and at the last second the end of his life—human or bear—swerved to the side, barely missing him. The car spun around and came to a stop. He heard indistinct voices inside. They sounded pissed. One of them screamed.
Toby needed to find cover, fast.
He ran to the sidewalk, sticking to the side of the building for cover. The voices faded in the distance and he slowed, lumbering along the store-fronts. He inhaled as if by instinct. Passing a coffee shop, he smelled stale coffee beans even through the window. The scent warmed him. He tried again at the next store, a bakery. His mouth salivated with the taste of pastries in his mouth. He pressed his paws against the glass and was able to see a pale reflection of himself. Standing, he was the same height as his human form. The middle of him was bulky with fur. He pressed his paw to his middle and tilted his head to the side. He felt like himself even though his reflection was a damn bear.
He pushed off the window and lumbered around the corner. Across the street was a park. There were jogging trails through the woods at the far end of the grounds. It was the perfect place for him to hide while he waited a substantial amount of time for Don to calm down and the police take his statement. He wondered how long that would take. He thought of how he left his home; how Don would have saw the situation. The sliding door was open, tattered clothes were strewn on the ground, and a bear in his house. If there had been blood, he knew Don would overreact. He was a nice man but his ability to get overwhelmed by the simplest things—such as property lines near his rose bed—kept Toby from ever wanting to see him outside of a passing greeting every now and then.
He jogged across the street, passing the playground, and slowing near the edge of the trees. The feel of the dirt on his paws grounded him. The scent of grass was intensified and quickly became a favorite smell. He started to connect with his bear-side and tested his new, intense senses.
A slow breeze sighed through the trees and he lifted his nose, snuffling the scents around him. A nearby tree caught his attention and he went closer. Deep claw marks marred the bark and Toby dug his nose against the base. A scent that was sharp to his nose like a strong oily smell clung to his nostrils. He backed away, cataloging the scent for another time.
Further into the woods, he felt safe enough to relax. He sat on his haunches and reviewed what had happened to him that night. He—somehow— turned into a bear. The pain had been excruciating but the memory of it had evaporated as soon as he had transformed. How did one become a bear?
He tried to speak again. More grunts fell from his mouth. He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound more of a satisfied grunt. He pressed his paw into t
he ground and dug his claws into the dry earth. The overwhelming nightmares he’d experienced burst into the forefront of his mind. Were they precursors to what was happening to him? Along with becoming a bear did he have some strange prediction powers?
At the moment he didn’t sense any oncoming pain, so he assumed he was stuck in that form. For some reason, Estrella’s voice came into his mind about the power of positivity. If this strange metamorphosis wasn’t permanent he might as well make the best of it.
He caught the scent of something and immediately fell on all fours. His ears perked and his nose was pointed to the ground. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. A rumble resonated in his stomach. Whatever he smelled would satisfy his craving even though he had no idea how he knew that.
It took several misses and embarrassing tumbles but after a while, he had tracked and caught the rabbit. The fur lining of the animal was flopped over his giant paws as he licked the smaller morsels of his meal. He should have been disgusted over killing the animal, but the taste was exquisite to his new taste buds. The small animal would satisfy him for now. Lately, as a human he’d been eating incredible amounts of food. If he continued on that path as a bear, he knew he’d need more before the sun came up.
Wandering through the woods, he came across smaller game, too quick for his ability. Though his hunger was his steady companion, it took a back seat to the enticing nature of his surroundings. Everything around him was more unique than he ever knew as a human. He could track the movements of every living creature that came through the area as if his nose was a GPS to his next meal.
A stream ran through part of the woods and Toby lapped some water, quenching his thirst and cleaning the blood from his snout. The water touched his paw and he sunk into the damp earth. The rich scent of the leaves in the trees filled him like no other experience before. He had a strong sense of belonging that filled his soul to the brim. A sense that he never knew he needed.
It filled a void in him that he thought Alexa had. The immature way she left him still niggled the back of his mind, but his world was so much bigger now. Bigger than her, and he knew without a doubt that he would be somehow be okay.
Chapter Nine
Something hard poked Toby in the leg. He brushed it off and tucked his arms closer to his body. A shiver shook him to the core. He opened his eyes to the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves above him. He looked up at the white-haired stern-looking police officer holding a night-stick in his hand. His head was cocked to the side as he spoke into his radio. “I found the body. Looks like another drunk.”
Why wasn’t the man scared? He was a bear!
He sat up, his hands pressing into the rocky ground. He lifted his hand. His hand? Toby wasn’t a bear anymore. He was back to his human self. His very naked human self. He pressed his back into the bark of the tree, wincing as it cut his skin. His body was damp as if he were a blade of grass covered in morning dew. He hoped it was dew. Another violent shiver rocked his body.
“Get up, buddy,” the police officer said. His accent was thick, telling him to git up.
Toby stood and the officer diverted his eyes. Toby cupped himself and stood there. Unsure what to do. He hoped the officer wouldn’t handcuff him, then he would really be exposing himself.
“Can you walk okay?” the officer asked, looking as if touching Toby’s dirty body would be crossing a line for him.
Toby nodded, not wanting to be touched either. “I’m good.”
Thankfully, the officer was parked at the edge of the woods, limiting Toby’s exposure to any onlookers who might be frequenting the park.
Toby sat on the back seat and the officer slapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists then tossed him blanket.
The ride to the station was silent, though the officer attempted to make small talk by accusing Toby of being a slobbering drunk. He decided not to say a word about how he got there. If he said he’d been a bear all night chasing rabbits and squirrels he knew he’d be headed to a much worse place than lockup.
“Do you have to take me to the station?” Toby asked. “I live nearby.” The metal handcuffs around his wrists clinked together.
The officer looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “Usually I would. But you were discovered by a female jogger who was particularly offended by your lack of clothes. Since it was called in, I have to perform proper protocol.”
Toby gripped the rough blanket around his body, leaning back against the plastic seat. He looked out the window, recalling the night before. His senses were still heightened, though they were more intense when he was a bear. His vision and sense of smell was sharp. The officer must be a smoker, he smelled the faint imprint of cigarettes and minty gum. His nose wrinkled at the smell of cleaning materials used in the backseat. He wondered how many people vomited or had done worse to the seat in the past. He tucked the blanket under his butt, trying to limit contact with whatever was left over.
Toby rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling smooth skin instead of tufts of fur. He clung onto the fact that even though it was impossible, he had been a bear the night before. How? Hell if he knew. He smiled, remembering how simple the world had been the night before. He worked on instinct and all of his worries and cares were left in the human world. But now that he was a human, his mind began to sift through what had happened and he needed to put the pieces together.
Toby tugged at the hem of his too-short, once-white tank top. The shorts squeezed his manhood but they were better than the blanket. Especially around the company he had in his cell. Two tattooed Latinos eyed him from the corner and Toby quickly looked away.
Something slapped his leg and he jumped. A man with a scraggly gray beard has his hand on Toby’s leg. “Is this your first time?” he asked in a warbley voice.
Toby scooted away from the man, pushing his hand off his leg. “Yeah.”
The man gave him a checkerboard smile. “It’s nice and cool in here.”
Toby’s heart squeezed. He assumed by the state of the man, he was living on the street. If they met in the real-world, Toby wouldn’t have given him a second glance. Being in the same place together had given them a commonality they would have never had before. “It is,” Toby answered, tearing his eyes away from the sad blue ones sitting next to him.
The man laid on the bench and within minutes was snoring.
Lockup had been segregated to one end of the large open space of the police station. Officers sat at their desks, paying him and the others no mind. The cacophony of electronic locks opening doors, phones ringing, and radios squawking grated on his nerves with each passing minute. He wanted to be in and out of there as quickly as possible, his reputation was taking a blow with each passing minute. He didn’t need to have any of this on his record.
He tried to flag down the officer who booked him, but failed miserably. Everyone else who walked by ignored him. When the two in the corner were snickering and looking in his direction he took a page from the panhandler and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. Without his sense of sight, the sounds and smells of the place intensified. He smelled the intense body odor from the man next to him and nearly gagged. His eyes shot open. Well that idea went to shit. He tried to hold his breath for as long as he could. He probably looked like a weirdo but it was better than having that smell stuck in his nostrils.
A half-hour later, Toby spotted Stan the other side of the partition from the front desk. He could have kissed his friend. He’d been given one phone call but didn’t expect Stan to come that quickly. He leapt from the bench and stood by the bars. The officer who had locked him up came by the cell with a set of keys.
“Next time, keep your clothes on, son.”
“I’ll remember that,” Toby said. He didn’t care if the guy was mocking him, he was out of there.
Within a few minutes, Toby walked into the lobby, attempting to keep his head high.
That was until Stan burst out laughing at Toby’s ou
tfit. “I knew we drank last night, but did you take something without me? Remind me not to party hard with you anymore.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Get it out of your system now.”
Stan’s eyes twinkled and he burst out laughing before they reached the doors. “What the hell are you wearing man? Did you rob a trailer home?”
“It was the cleanest thing they had in the lost and found.”
“The cleanest set of girl’s clothing.” Stan reached out to touch the fabric but pulled his hand away, wrinkling his nose. Stan assaulted him with another round of laughter. His face was bright red by the time he calmed down enough to speak. “They said you wandered miles away from your house, naked, and you scared a jogger. This is priceless, man.”
Toby shrugged, offering a self-deprecating laugh. It was all he could muster at the moment.
Stan clapped a hand on Toby’s bare shoulder and Toby flinched. The sensation rocked his sensitive body. Now that he was moving, he felt the underlying soreness in his muscles as if he’d worked out harder than he had in his life. Carting around the excess weight of a bear all night would do that to a person.
Stan looked at his hand with mock-disgust. “I’m going to have to wash that before we eat. You’re disgusting right now.”
“Eat?” Toby asked. The transformation had taken a toll on his body but his stomach churned fiercely.
“After last night, you need my hangover cure.”
Toby wasn’t hungover from booze, but he hoped that Stan’s cure would work just the same.
The sunny-side up eggs and greasy bacon stared up at Toby from his plate. He imagined his other self, tearing apart a chicken and a pig with its large paws. He pushed the plate away with his finger. His other hand rested on his leg as it bounced up and down involuntarily.
