Commissioned by Jiben2
“What do you mean you’re overbooked? I made this reservation ages ago!” Charles shouted.
“I’m very sorry sir, I don’t know how it happened,” the young woman behind the hotel desk said, “the hotel has two conventions going this weekend, and unfortunately we had too many reservations. We’ve been forced to give out rooms on a first come, first serve basis.”
“You mean to tell me these fuckers get rooms, but I don’t? Every hotel in the area is going to be booked by now! What am I supposed to do?”
“I…Look, let me get my manager, and we’ll try to work something out. One moment please.”
Charles fumed as the woman left, tapping his dress shoe in frustration and looking around the lobby at all the fat hairy men cloistered in groups. A bear convention–how disgusting. Charles might be gay, but he had standards. None of these men had any right to be this naked in public as far as he was concerned. What were the chances that they would book on the same weekend as the most important convention for him this year? He checked his tailored suit in the mirror, moving his gelled hair back into place and trying to calm down. He’d figure something out, he always did. He was tough–a survivor–a climber. It had difficult enough being a gay man in a straight man’s company, but he’d crawled this high. If this convention went well, he might even be looking at another promotion.
The woman returned a couple minutes later, trailing a middle aged manager who looked far too exhausted to deal with this. They rehashed the same discussion–Charles demanding a room, the staff saying there was nothing they could do without receiving a cancellation. He scoffed when they offered to give him makeshift quarters in the basement with the storage, but when he realized they were serious, he nearly exploded. It was soon after that when the man on the couch interrupted.
Charles had noticed him earlier for a moment, long enough to be disgusted by the fact that he had his boots up on the couch cushions like a common laborer–which he might well have been, given how he was dressed. “You know, he could stay in my room. The friend who was going to stay with me cancelled, so I have an extra bed.”
Charles was stunned at the mere suggestion of sleeping in the same quarters as a nasty man like that, so stunned that before he could get a word in to object, the manager, eager to resolve the situation, had agreed and was busy putting it into the system, and handed Charles a room key which he took begrudgingly. It was better than sleeping in a storage closet he told himself. Maybe not better by much–but he could handle anything for a couple of days–he hoped.
“Well, I guess we’re roomies then,” the man said, extending his hairy hand to the shorter, thinner businessman, “My names Bruce.”
“I’m, uh…Charles. Nice to meet you and thanks…I guess…”
“So, shall we head up to the room? I haven’t dropped my stuff off yet–I was just sayin’ hi to some old fuck—uh, old friends.”
“Right,” Charles said, “You know, I’m gay–you don’t have to pretend I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t think I’m at all interested.”
They walked into the elevator, and as the door closed, Charles thought he saw someone, one of the bears, looking at them, but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the stare he did catch was a bit…creepy. The ride was silent, though it was obvious Bruce didn’t want it to be this awkward. They divided up the hotel room, and then the bear pulled out a cigar and lit it up right in front of Charles. “Hey! You can’t smoke in here.”
“What do you mean? It’s the smoking floor–I can smoke here if I want to,” Bruce replied.
“Well, at least smoke it out on the balcony–those things are disgusting.”
“You know, you sure could lighten up a bit. I’m the one doing you a favor here, remember…” Bruce grumbled, but headed out onto the balcony to smoke, leaving Charles to set up his laptop and review some work for the convention tomorrow. When Bruce finished he came back in, stinking of smoke, and pulled on his coat. “I’m goin’ out. Don’t wait up, I’ll probably be late tonight.”
“Sure, whatever,” Charles replied, not caring in the least, though as it ended up, late was a bit of an understatement. Charles turned in around ten, sleeping nicely for a few hours until Bruce burst his way into the room loudly, stinking of alcohol and smoke, mumbling about some great guy he’d met in the bar, before collapsing down on his bed where he started snoring loudly. Charles knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping much for the rest of the night, though he did eventually, and when he did, it was fitful–and he dreamed a strange vision.
He was in some undefined space, some grey netherworld, and Bruce was there too, standing in front of him. The two of them started out clothed, but as they approached, the clothes suddenly vanished, and Charles saw Bruce’s cock pointing at him. He tried to stop, but some strange force pulled them closer and closer, their cocks erect, and the tips came together, a powerful magnetism holding them in place. At the same time, their faces came closer and closer, Charles smelling stench of smoke as their lips met, locking similarly, and a powerful shock coursed through him, and the force released them.
He could already feel the dream fading, but he looked down at himself, seeing something was wrong. He was…hairy, hairy like Bruce had been, and his cock wasn’t cut anymore, now hooded with a heavy foreskin, and a couple inches shorter than before. A hand went to his face and head, feeling hair around his mouth, his other hair shorn short, but then the vision was gone, and he slept deep for the rest of the night.
The next day though, was hell as far as Charles was concerned. Nothing seemed to be going right at his convention at all. He woke up late that morning with a raging headache–had he not been so certain that he’d spent the night alone in the room, he’d have thought he’d had one of the worst hangovers of his life. On top of that, his tongue and throat felt strange, and it was a bit difficult to breathe for some reason. He thought he might just be getting sick, but as the day went on, he found it only got worse–not better.
That was only the greatest of the inconveniences at hand though. He couldn’t feel the least bit comfortable in his suit–his hairy body was just so itchy! He’d imagined that he would have gotten used to having this much body hair by now, but for some reason it bugged the hell out of his all day. There was always this little voice, this little question in the back of his mind though, asking whether he should have that much body hair, but that was silly. Of course he was hairy–that’s how he’d always been, right? Though every time he saw his beard in the mirror, he couldn’t help but ask the same question. Something about it just didn’t seem…right.
And finally, he was horny. Not just any horny–really horny. Horny as fuck. And his cock was not pointing him in the right direction. Charles had been plenty gay before, but instead of the clean cut, handsome business types who’d attracted his eye before, now he was drawn to a different sort of man–the burly, hairy older suited gentlemen who were also in abundance at the convention, many with beards of their own which had Charles swooning a bit. Hell, walking through the lobby and seeing all of the bears there was almost too much for him to handle. He’d lost track of how many times he’d had to take a bathroom break just to relieve some tension. All of this seemed so unnatural, but if this wasn’t how he was supposed to act…then what was he supposed to do? Frustrated and confused, the convention and his work couldn’t have gotten finished fast enough, and after a bite to eat, he headed back to the room, eager for an early bedtime.
Back in the room though, sleep was impossible. The headache was simply too great now for him to ignore, and the hours passed fitfully. Charles eventually started pacing the room, hoping to just exhaust himself, when he caught a whiff of a…scent. Something he needed, and needed badly, something coming from Bruce’s side of the room. Not even caring about it being wrong, he started rummaging through the bear’s things, not even knowing what he was looking for, when he found the cello-wrapped cigars. “Yes!” his head screamed–he could barely get the wrapper off with his shaking hands, before cutting the cap (how did he even know to do that?) fumbling for a lighter and drawing in the smoke.
Relief! How he’d never thought he’d find it. How could he have forgotten that he was such a heavy smoker? How…had he even smoked anything before?
The question nagged at him, but not so much that he considered stopping now. Still, when had he smoked last? He honestly couldn’t remember, and this piled on with the rest of the insecurities from the day. His body hair, his beard, his uncut cock, his sudden bearish preferences. Something…something had changed, but what? What was going on? He walked into the bathroom, staring at his reflection, trying to piece it together. The dream from the night before had faded, but left a vague impression. Something…something had happened, something with Bruce…right? But what?
One thing he couldn’t deny was that the cigar smoke was turning him on big time, as much as staring at all the hot, chubby bears had earlier. He started stroking the short, thick shaft, still finding it uncomfortable in his hand, the sensation of his foreskin both familiar and alien at the same time. He was about to finish into the toilet when he heard the sound of the key in the door, and the cough of Bruce coming in.
“Fuck man, didn’t I tell you to smoke those on the balcony?” he said.
“Sorry, sorry,” Charles said, coming out of the bathroom after pulling on some underwear, “I forgot…” His voice trailed off when he say his roommate for the first time that day–his hot, sexy bear of a roommate–fuck! He hadn’t been that attractive before, had he? It was a shame the guy was so smooth and didn’t have a beard, but Charles was willing to fuck almost anything at the moment. “Look…how–how about I make it up to you? You want a blowjob?” he heard himself say faster than he could be embarrassed for himself.
“What, and have my cock stink like smoke for a week?” Bruce said, “Look, I like chasers, but smoking’s a no go. I’ll be back when the fucking air’s cleared. Sorry for interrupting.” He turned and left, Charles pissed that the bear was such a wimp. What was the harm in a little smoke? Grumbling a bit, he headed out onto the balcony to finish, and saw that across the courtyard he had a great view of two orgies which offered plenty to look at. He jacked off twice more, still smoking, though halfway through his second round, he looked over and saw that someone was watching him. He couldn’t make the man out very well, but the attention wasn’t unwelcome. He gave the man a bit of a show, but his cigar was burnt out, and exhaustion proper was setting in. Still, he was happy someone was interested, as he crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately, only to dream once more.
Bracken's Corner 