Chapter 2
Matt had never seen so much snow in all his life, and he doubted anyone in the city had. Sure, the campus got a light dusting every year once or twice, but the climate just wasn’t suited for the kind of snow they were getting at the moment. He wondered if this had to do with the changes too–was the weather changing too? It wouldn’t surprise him if it was, after all, everything else was changing too, well, had changed. Everything seemed to be settling down, at least for the moment. He’d heard some tales of the city around them starting to change, but he had no idea how long it might take. Still, the campus had fallen in days, why would the city last much longer? Granted, there were several million people to change, compared to a few thousand, but how many weeks? Months? He sighed, watching the smoke from his cigar crash against the window, a thin film of smoke mirroring the frost on the other side.
He was too tired to think about any of this clearly. He just felt sick to his stomach. Two months of searching, and nothing–they were nowhere closer to figuring out what was going on here than they had been before. Who was Tristan Newbeary? Where had he come from? What was he, even? Not human, they knew that much, though they didn’t know what he was if not human. An alien? An animal made human? A government experiment? They’d gone through so many possibilities in their meetings that even the craziest ideas were starting to make as much sense as the sane ones. Ha, The Resistance, the college called them. Such a mighty title for something so aimless, and maybe even a bit hopeless. What had they managed to accomplish, aside from kicking the hornet’s nest a bit? All they’d done was break into the first level of Professor Erikson’s labs, and the president’s residence, not that they’d gotten very far in, or learned anything of use. One thing was for sure though, was that Tristan and Erikson weren’t wasting any time in trying to destroy their little group. Matt could sense it was only a matter of time before they were discovered, and his heart caught in his throat, thinking of Terry, and what might happen to him when that happened. Still Terry was smart, he’d get out somehow. Matt was the stupid one, he’d be the one left behind, just like before.
He couldn’t see the chapel from here, but he looked in that direction anyway, thinking of James, wondering what had happened to him. That day, when he’d gone by the chapel and seen the caution tape, security going in and out like it was a crime scene…he’d feared the worst, but James wasn’t the victim, in was Joseph, one of the altarcubs. The details of the episode were never made public, but Matt knew that something strange happened after that. If those three days before were the garden of eden, that death, that was the first sin in a new world, and the only person unaccounted for in the entire event was James. Still, James wasn’t a killer. He certainly wasn’t strong enough to take Joseph, a massive Sodomite, and break his back against the wall of the chapel. Still, what other explanation was there? He could say to himself that James wasn’t a killer until he was blue in the face, but the obvious told him otherwise. Still, where had he gone? He’d explored the chapel quickly once it had been reopened to the rest of campus, and the only oddity he’d found was a newly painted wall down in the basement which didn’t tell him much of anything, and the Chaplain…well the Chaplain didn’t seem to remember anything strange happening at all, and Matt had been afraid to ask about anything specific, for fear that the man would start wondering why Matt was asking all of these questions in the first place, and report him to Tristan, or worse, Erikson.
Tom shifted in the queen sized dorm room bed next to Mat and started snoring softly, and Matt looked over at him, taking a deep drag off his cigar. Tom, god, he was beautiful when he was sleeping, Matt loved him like this. It was when he woke up that he turned into an absolute terror. Well, even that wasn’t quite true. He could be sweet, and nice, and kind, so long as you did everything he told you to do when he told you to do it. Matt had once or twice jokingly suggested that Tom look into applying for the Masters Program, and Tom always laughed back in a way signaling he already had. But Matt did love him, in a strange way, he even loved the domineering parts–it certainly made for some hot sessions in bed, Tom tying him down to the bedposts and wreaking his hole all night long, alternating between dildos and his big cock, the room a complete haze of smoke from their cigars, making Matt cum over and over again. Sometimes, deep in those sessions, Matt could even forget about what had happened. Think like someone fully converted, like a real bear, and god if he wasn’t happy when that happened. It would be so much easier to just forget, forget about the terror he’d felt hiding in his room those days, forget about the guilt and the sins he’d committed in the eyes of God, forget about the resistance, and Terry and all the rest.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the chained leather wallet and flipped it open, and again, he was struck by his hands, and how big and worn they were. Inside, tucked into a side pocket, was a small business card, now a bit faded, but still legible:
Terry VanWise
Student in the School of Business and Management
(and sexy fucking cub to boot)
555-253-5297
Matt wondered how things might have turned out differently, if he hadn’t found that card that day, or if he hadn’t been in the mood to call. Still, the point was moot now–and he wondered if part of the reason he couldn’t sleep was because he wasn’t with Terry. Still, there was no helping it. He had to be here with Tom, he had to keep up his cover, no matter how much he wanted to be elsewhere, with Terry wrapped up in his own thick arms, under some flannel sheets maybe, slowly thrusting his cock in his boy’s ass, rocking them both to sleep in the process. He wrapped one of those big hands around his cock, milking it quietly. He doubted that Tom would wake up, but he certainly wouldn’t be happy if he caught Matt jacking off without him being involved, or without his permission. He thought of that day, still worried, still exhausted, still knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not today, and probably not the next either, not until he was away from Tom, and back with Terry.
***
“What the fuck is your problem, you fucking prude!”
“You’re my fucking problem! You are, you fucking asshole, I’m fucking sick of the fucking fountain of bullshit that just spews from your mouth every goddamn time you–” but Matt didn’t get to finish, as Tom threw a punch that connected with his jaw, sending Matt tottering back against the wall in the dorm hallway. All the other doors were open, some people even stepping out to watch, though most just looked through the cracks. Still, they all knew what was going on–Matt and Tom were at it again, for the hundredth time maybe. They were the fighters of the entire building–their arguments could spring up anytime, and generally woke everyone in the building up–though their makeup sex was usually just as raucous.
“You fucking asshole,!” Matt screamed, and threw himself at Tom with a growl, knocking both of them to the ground, the two of them ripping at each others clothes, scratching and punching and trying to pin the other down. Finally, Butch and Leon came charging over, pulling the two away from each other and breaking up the fight.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, can’t the two of you give it a goddamn rest for the night?” Leon said.
“Well maybe if someone would put out more than once a week–”
“I fucking offered to blow you! I’m just not in the fucking mood for you to whip my ass so hard I won’t be able to sit in class tomorrow!”
“You sure as hell seemed like you were in the mood last time we did it. You were fucking begging me for more yesterday!”
“Well that was fucking last time, and this is the fucking last time!” Matt shouted, wrestled himself away from Butch and stormed off down the hall.
“Oh you’ll be fucking back! You want it bitch, just fucking admit it!” Tom screamed after him, but Matt just ran faster, down the stairs and out the front doors, sobbing.
God, he hated him so much, Matt thought, getting out of sight from the building before sitting down on a bench and getting himself under control, massaging his aching jaw. Still, Tom was right–it had been fun, getting tied down and whipped, it was just…God, he just didn’t feel like it today, wasn’t that fucking allowed? Couldn’t he have just one night where they fucking cuddle, or just watch a porno, or go out to dinner, or fucking anything that didn’t involve Matt feeling like a complete whore? Hell, the whole dorm already thought he was Tom’s bitch, and he hadn’t exactly given them much evidence to convince them otherwise, but today–well, today the memories were just so strong, just touching Tom made him sick, a twisted reminder of how far he’d fallen in the past month, since the changes had swept campus, since he’d been changed. He didn’t dare talk to Tom about it–Matt didn’t think he remembered anything before the changes, or rather, he remembered things, but they were wrong. Still, Matt had no proof, no way to convincing even himself that these memories were right, just his faith, which was growing weaker by the day. Maybe…maybe he should go to that workshop by Erikson, that one for these sorts of problems. Maybe it would make him feel better. He’d written down the number to call to make an appointment somewhere–probably somewhere back in that fucking dorm room.
Matt pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it, looking for the number, but he didn’t find it. What he did find though, was a business card. He stared at it for a second, trying to remember where he’d gotten it, and he chuckled when he did. It was his second fuck, that damn cub after the poker game where he’d lost his fucking identity to Tom, Butch and Leon like a fool.
He turned the card over in his head a few times, then felt in his pocket for a cigar, but realized like an idiot he hadn’t grabbed any on his way out. Hell, if he was going to leave, he was going to have to go back there eventually. Still…why not make Tom sweat it out a bit? Why not have some fun with someone else for once? Tom played around all the time, but he always got so pissed when Matt looked at any other bear…well fuck him. Matt could have other people, if Tom could, and fucking that cub…he hadn’t been on top in so long, maybe that would let him work off some of this aggression. He did have his phone, at least, so after choking back some anxiety, he dialed the number, and it picked up after the second ring.
“Hello? Who is this?” the voice said on the other end.
“Oh, uh…hi. I’m calling, well, I’m calling because you gave me your business card a while back? And I was, well, wondering if you wanted to meet up again.”
“Man, I have so many guys I meet up with, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”
Matt laughed, “Well, it was in the common room of Thompson-Reynolds, a big orgy that interrupted a poker game. I seem to remember hauling your ass up and fucking you with my big cock while you were up in the air…”
the cub laughed, “Oh you! I do remember you, quite fondly, actually. I was beginning to think you would never call. So, what can I interest you in? It’s fifty dollars an hour, extra for kink. I’m orange, but if it’s freaky it’s gonna cost you.”
Matt sighed. School of Business, naturally he was studying to be a prostitute. Still, what was the harm in paying for an hour? He had the money. “I just need an hour–sometime to wind down a bit. I just had, well hell, it doesn’t matter. Where should I meet you?”
“Campus baths. twenty minutes. That work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Alright, see you then, daddy.”
Bracken's Corner 