Her ToyBear

by Bonnie Burrows

  “But Wesley, I want to be there…just to remind you of what you have to come back for. When you come back, I want you here with me. I want you with me, always.”

  Wesley stroked the side of her face. For a moment, he could not speak. The moment hung in the air, filled with all the feelings he’d had for her since that one night when she’d asked him to pleasure himself while she drew him—and then he pleasured them together for the first time. At last, he found his voice.

  “I love you, Jennifer,” he said.

  “And I love you, my sweet Wesley,” she said back.

  Wesley drew her into a kiss as if to kiss her forever. It was a kiss broken only by his moving back on top of her and back inside her. He made love to Jennifer as he had done so many times, humping her with all the passion and energy of his youth, for long, seemingly endless hours, and their bodies became their whole world.

  Thrusting and climaxing, he cried out his love for Jennifer over and over. Clinging to him and under him, receiving him with a joy beyond comprehension, Jennifer cried her love back. He was her boy, her man, her beast, her bear, her everything. He was her Wesley, and to be without the thrill of his body was truly unthinkable. The bear would not take her Wesley from her. She would never let it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jennifer and Wesley packed their bags and climbed into Jennifer’s black BMW, a high-end German import as black as the fur of Wesley’s other body, and set out on the road for Osborn Wood. Just for the pleasure of seeing how it would please him, and because he knew the way, Jennifer let him drive.

  She sat in the passenger’s seat, watching him handle her car as expertly as he handled her in bed, appreciating the way he enjoyed being in her driver’s seat almost as much as he enjoyed being between her sheets. She wondered whether perhaps her car would be a tad conspicuous where they were going.

  She realized that was a bit of a prejudicial attitude. There was no reason, after all, to expect that Osborn Wood -- whose name was derived from Old English roots that meant “god” and “bear”--was some backwater hillbilly hick town where people had no breeding and no culture.

  Wesley, after all, had lived there. To be sure, people had passed through there, been tourists and visitors there, with all kinds of worldly refinements and all kinds of culture. For all she knew, Osborn Wood had fine restaurants and a thriving arts community and all the other amenities of comfortable living. It was probably a perfectly charming little hamlet, tucked in an out-of-the-way location. She imagined it was the kind of place that one found in travel magazine articles about “the best-kept secrets” of this region or that.

  Of course, this particular well-kept secret, Jennifer reminded herself, had an even better-kept secret of its own, namely that some of its residents and visitors had more than one body and might at any opportune time morph into the shape of a bear or a wolf or Lord knew what else.

  She reminded herself, sitting in the leather bucket seat beside her young lover, that from now on her entire view of the world would necessarily be subtly shifted. She would never look at other people in quite the same way again. She would always wonder, Is this person one of THEM? or Might that person be more than what he or she appears to be?

  Out on the road, Jennifer asked Wesley, “Can you shifters recognize each other when you’re not in your other shapes? I mean, do you know who—what—each other is on sight, or do you have a sense for it? Or do you only find out when someone trusts you enough to change in front of you? I’m sorry if it seems like an ignorant question; it’s just occurring to me now.”

  “It’s not an ignorant question. It’s just something you’re not used to. You’re used to me, but naturally you’re not used to us. Yeah, we can tell when somebody else is a shifter, and we can tell when a shifter isn’t another Ursan. All of us can sense our own kind and tell when somebody else has two shapes.

  It’s part sense of smell; we have scents that humans can’t pick up. And it’s part of an instinct we have, like gays are supposed to have ‘gaydar’ and be able to pick up signals from other gays. We know, yeah.”

  Jennifer nodded, another detail of her new reality falling into place. “Well, you’ll have to tell me which ones are the other Ursans and so forth when we get there. Discreetly, of course.”

  Wesley looked over at her, grinning. “Relax, Jen,” he said. “We don’t bite. Unless you want us to.” And he gave her the sexiest look as if to say, In a minute I’m gonna pull over and do you right on the shoulder of the road.

  Jennifer blushed a bit at the thought and his look. However, Wesley turned his attention back to the road and just kept driving. Jennifer returned to her thoughts of the experience before her.

  At their destination, whatever kind of town it might be, there was a five-star Lodge (and its presence, Jen had to admit, was a good sign) where she had booked a suite for herself and Wesley—and where Wesley’s parents would meet them. She rolled the words over and over in her head: Wesley’s parents. The werebears who had bred and raised a young cub who was now her lover.

  Before they left, Wesley had shown her pictures of them on his phone. To all appearances, they were the perfectly human parents of a twenty-five-year-old son, and if one didn’t know any better, one wouldn’t take them for anything else. Still, she knew what they were. What Jennifer did not know was what she would say to them.

  Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Horne, I’m so happy to meet you. I think the world of your son; you raised him to be a beautiful, wonderful young man. I’m the woman he’s told you about, the one who’s old enough to be his mother myself. I’m exactly what you warned your son he should never go to bed with. I would be so truly grateful if the two of you could find it in your hearts not to change into bears and rip my intestines out. Thank you so much…

  But Jennifer kept these thoughts to herself. Relaxing as best she could, she kept her eyes on the road and the signs—and, of course, on the precious young man at the wheel.

  _______________

  It was a small town, no different than any other anywhere in America. Its streets looked as if they hadn’t changed in a hundred years. It had old brick and stone buildings, manicured parks, a lake, churches, a town square, and picturesque storefronts—everything one would expect. It just happened that it was tucked away and nestled deep in a valley where mountains rose up all around it, thick with trees and imposing, with cliff faces that stood like sentinels.

  If one flew over Osborn Wood, it would appear to have either grown out of the wilderness or been set down in it, exactly as it was. No wonder she had never heard of it, nor ever met anyone else who had, until she’d met Wesley.

  He drove them through the town, pointing out places he liked to go and places he’d worked when he lived there, and Jennifer looked out at them and imagined Wesley frequenting those places. He showed her the little rooming house where he had lived, and she tried not to imagine him in his room there, doing all the things to his old girlfriend, Adela, that he now did to her every night. She did her best to banish Adela from her thoughts completely and focus on Wesley and the time they were both about to face.

  At the far outskirts of town lay the Osborn Lodge, the town’s high-end resort, which catered to the most upscale guests. Jennifer almost felt a little guilty for having booked herself and Wesley here, as Wesley’s parents would be staying in a more modest bed-and-breakfast in the town proper.

  She was a bit afraid that the Hornes might think she was making an ostentatious display of her wealth and using her money to “keep” their son. Her actual motive was to make Wesley as comfortable as humanly possible—an ironic choice of words—at this most critical time of a werebear’s life.

  The prospect of presenting herself to his parents as his significantly older human lover was daunting enough. Then there was wondering how they would greet Wesley’s rich older human lover. Would they accuse her of making their son her pet? Nothing that Wesley had told her about his parents suggested they would see her in that light. But Jennifer fo
und she could not avoid the thought.

  The Lodge itself was gorgeous, a mighty place of stained wood logs and tall glass windows, three stories high. It sprawled out like a palace on the edge of the forest, and its exterior, its driveways, and its walkways were decorated with lights that made the place look truly magical at night, as Jennifer saw in the online brochure.

  Their suite was spacious, practically a stained wood luxury apartment, with a king-size bed, sofas, a working wood fireplace, a kitchen and dining area, a sunken bath and shower, and a hot tub. When they arrived at the room at check-in, as soon as they had their bags placed in the bedroom and put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, she watched Wesley go from place to place in the suite, checking everything out, and knew he was mentally noting “Places I Want to Hump the Daylights Out of Jennifer.” If only their visit was for that purpose alone…

  They ordered dinner from room service, and as they ate, Wesley talked of his parents driving in from Quebec and arriving in the morning. Jennifer could tell how much he looked forward to seeing them. As independent as he may be, something in the young man missed his parents when he was away from them.

  It was during dinner that Jennifer noticed a difference in Wesley. He did not look at her as much as he was accustomed to doing. He began to look down mostly, and he stopped smiling. His expression took on a dark, faraway, frowning look, and he fell into long silences. His breathing grew heavier, and he made long, grunting sounds. Watching him across the dinner table, Jennifer started to grow anxious.

  “Wesley?” she said, hesitantly, tentatively. “Wesley…sweetheart…is there anything I can do? How can I help?”

  “You can’t, Jen,” he grunted. “This just has to happen like it’s gonna happen. We got here just in time. Calling Time, it’s starting to hit my body. It’s just hitting me.”

  “What can I do?” she asked, pained to see him obviously fighting discomfort and distress over the war happening in his body. “Is it…all right if I touch you?”

  “You can touch me,” he rumbled. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. It’s just taking hold of me. I’ve gotta do something.”

  Jennifer moved her chair over next to him and carefully, carefully, put one arm around him. His entire body seemed to heave with every breath he took. He felt hot, as if seized with a raging fever. Oh, my poor Wesley…

  “What?” she asked. “What do you have to do? Do you need to lie down? Can I help you to bed?”

  “Not to bed,” he growled. “The fireplace. Over to the fireplace.”

  She helped him up, and together they walked across the suite to the large hearth opposite the picture window. Wesley dropped to his knees on the area rug in front of it, still breathing heavily, and pulled off his shirt and tossed it to one side. “Light the fire,” he said, his voice actually dropping an octave.

  Jennifer found the fireplace matches, lit one, and hurriedly started to light the logs that were already arranged in the hearth. Behind her, she could hear Wesley fumbling at his boxing shoes, his socks, and his jeans, squirming out of his clothing as quickly as he could and throwing his garments haphazardly about. By the time she’d finished lighting the fire and turned back around, he was crouching naked on all fours.

  His entire body had gone into a blush from head to toe. His head was lowered, and he gave out long, deep, rasping, growling sounds. Jennifer put a hand to her mouth to suppress a sob or a whimper. Her poor Wesley looked and sounded in so much pain. She could sense his body trying to force him to be one thing and one thing only, and his human mind trying to resist.

  “RrrrrrrRRRRRR…!” he intoned in a voice far more beast than human.

  This time Jennifer could not suppress a gasp of fear and pain. “Wesley,” she called, “darling, can you still hear me? What can I do? Please tell me what I can do…”

  He reared up his head, and she saw his face in half-transformation, his features distorting and stretching from human to bear. His mouth was open and his teeth, half-changed to fangs, were clenched. Jennifer could tell that Wesley was no longer capable of human communication. She watched, stricken, as the rest of his body morphed, his torso and limbs thickening, his entire shape changing, black fur blanketing his form.

  In a moment, nothing human was left. The bear lifted his head again and roared, a roar of pain and confusion. Jennifer watched him, anguish all over her face, tears pouring from her eyes. He slumped down and dropped onto the rug, making a thud on the hard wood floor. He lay there in front of the fire, the bulk of his black-furred body rising and falling with deep and fevered breaths, his throat issuing roars and rumbles and whines. He snorted and snuffled, and his breaths were his only movements.

  “Oh, Wesley,” she sobbed.

  He tilted his head just enough to look up at her. He fixed his bear eyes on her and grunted and snuffled, and somewhere in her heart she could hear her Wesley calling to her. Slowly, carefully, Jennifer crouched down beside him. She reached out and touched his side, touching him in his bear form for the first time since that morning when she’d found him transformed in her bed. And she sobbed more deeply, “Oh…oh, Wesley…”

  Wesley plopped his head back down on the rug and grunted long grunts. Her pain for him overtaking her apprehension for herself, Jennifer curled up next to him and rested her head on his side where she’d touched him. Lying against him as if resting on a huge black pillow, Jennifer stroked his fur, and his rasping sounds turned to long, calm breaths. Soon, all was silence except for the crackle of the fire.

  Eventually, Jennifer got up, giving him a reassuring stroke and pat, and went to the closet to take out one of the extra blankets for the bed. She returned with it to the fireplace and lay down curled up against Wesley’s side again, this time putting herself closer to his bear face, and put the blanket over herself. Petting his neck, she half-whispered, “It’ll be all right, Wesley. Your Mom and Dad will be here first thing tomorrow, and you’ll be just fine. There, my darling, don’t you worry.”

  With one last, long, deep breath, Wesley let himself go to sleep, and Jennifer followed him.

  _______________

  The first rays of morning found the fire ebbed away to cold, gray wood—and Wesley lying human and naked, curled up under the blanket beside Jennifer. A shuddering of his body stirred them both awake. Jennifer blinked, startled at the sight of him. In a way, it was a reversal of that one morning at the penthouse. She rose up on one elbow and looked into his slowly focusing eyes.

  “Wesley?” she asked. “Talk to me. How do you feel?”

  “Different,” he croaked.

  “Different how?”

  “It’s the first time I’ve woken up with you without having a woody,” he said, shutting his eyes hard and opening them again, as if to squeeze out the last of his sleep. “And the first time I’ve slept with you and…you know, slept.” He yawned. “And I’m hungry.”

  Jennifer ruffled his hair with her fingers and leaned over to kiss him. She pulled back from the kiss, but he gently but firmly caught her by the neck and pulled her into a second, longer kiss.

  “Okay,” he said, still a bit groggy but coming around quickly. “Now I’ve got a woody.”

  He pulled the blanket away, and together they peeled off Jennifer’s clothes, which she had slept in all night. Wesley moved himself on top of her right there on the rug. Jennifer pushed her lingering worries about his condition to the back of her mind as he slipped his log into her chute and slowly began to pump.

  He made love to her slowly and deliberately, as if to make himself fully human again with human sex, and he slipped his hand down under the blanket to her most tender place to bring them to climax together. Jennifer was delighted that Wesley’s being a bear all night had not dulled his sexual skills in the slightest.

  They ordered breakfast from room service, and after eating, they settled down into a hot bath together. They played with each other under the water. Wesley licked and sucked at her nipples, and they brought themselves to a seco
nd morning orgasm by hand. All was tranquil afterward as they cuddled in the bath—until Wesley’s phone, on the floor beside the sunken tub, gave out a growling ringtone that momentarily shocked Jennifer, taking her back to the experience of last night. She lurched out of his arms in surprise and dismay.

  Smiling at her and reaching for the phone, Wesley said, “It’s all right, Jen. That’s my folks’ ring tone. They must have just gotten here.”

  Jennifer exhaled beside him, slightly embarrassed at her reaction to a ring tone, while Wesley picked up the phone, tapped for the call, put it to his ear, and said, “Hey, Mom.”

  _______________

  It was another moment of truth, Jennifer coming face to face with Vernon and Jocelyn Horne, just as she had seen them on Wesley’s phone. There they were, in the suite with her and Wesley. There was no hostility or judgement about them. Jennifer could sense that they were curious and interested and that they were quietly looking her over and taking the measure of her, as any parents would upon first meeting their son’s girlfriend.