“I didn’t mean what I said before–you’re a fantastic top,” Terry said, making Matt laugh as he fucked him.
“Well good–I’d hate to disappoint,” Matt said, “You want my cum up that hole of yours again?”
“Fucking give it to me–all of it.”
“You asked for it.”
Matt started bucking harder, panting a bit, and with a shudder, he buried his cock deep in Terry’s ass and came, filling him to the brim, but he didn’t let Terry get off his cock until it had completely softened and slipped out, and Terry didn’t seem to mind the closeness. As the clung to each other there, in the baths, coming down from the thrill of a fuck, Matt asked, “Do you…do you want to go back? Do you want things back the way they were?”
Terry didn’t answer immediately, his head resting on the big bear’s chest, and Matt just hugged him closer, feeling his heart swell a bit. It was different when he held Terry, than when he hugged Tom. Tom always felt like a battle, but with Terry–he wanted to cradle and protect him, and Matt knew he shouldn’t feel like that, that this was just this body and twisted world and all the rest, but on the other hand, part of the reason he’d asked Terry the question at all was that he didn’t have an answer himself. “I don’t know,” Terry finally said.
“Me neither.”
“Let’s not talk about it. Not right now, ok? Just…Just hold me for a bit longer.”
“Alright.”
Matt could feel Terry’s cock poking him in the gut, and he wrapped one of his huge hands around it and started working the shaft, Terry shivering from the rough calluses on his palms, but not complaining. Matt worked him slowly, bringing him to a quiet, shuddering orgasm after a few minutes, one Matt couldn’t be sure he even enjoyed. Terry gave him a kiss, and slid out of Matt’s arms, zipping up the ass of his shorts, not saying anything.
“When can I see you again?” Matt asked. Terry didn’t say anything again, and when he made to walk out, Matt grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What’s wrong? Fucking talk to me, boy.”
“Oh quit the fucking daddy act,” Terry said, yanking his arm away, “Look, I don’t know, alright? I don’t know about who I want to be, and I don’t know about you, and I just need some fucking space alright? I just…I just…” he started to tear up, and when Matt pulled him close he sobbed into his chest, “I just wish someone had asked me, I just wish I could have had a choice.”
Matt held him for a few minutes, his own feelings in a confusing jumble. Suddenly, his fight with Tom didn’t seem to matter one bit, the validation of his own worries and memories, and the feelings that were growing in his heart around Terry, he wanted this cub to be happy, and safe and…and his. He couldn’t deny it, he wanted him for himself. Was that the daddy in him speaking, or was it Matt? He couldn’t tell where the line between them even was, if there had ever been one at all. He was exhausted suddenly, feeling like he could sleep for weeks. Finally, Terry collected himself, and when he left, Matt didn’t try to stop him. They needed space, he needed space. He had to sort his own thoughts out. He went and took a shower, and then wandered around campus for a bit, before returning to the dorm and apologizing to Tom. However, the rough sex that followed left him feeling empty. He didn’t share anything with Tom–they were intimate, and yet the whole of Tom’s being was sealed off from Matt. As Tom fucked him, he wondered whether Tom remembered what had happened, and he realized that Matt would never be able to ask him. Tom didn’t seem like the type who would remember that–he had taken to his new self too well to care about who he’d been, and Matt felt himself miss Terry even more when they were sharing a cigar on the bed in silence, with miles of distance hidden away in the inches separating them.
It was a few days later when Matt got the call from Terry. He’d been too nervous to pick up the phone with Tom around, so he waited for a moment when he was alone to call him back.
“I need to talk to you again,” Terry said, when he picked up.
“What’s wrong, are you alright?”
“I’m starting to forget again. Where can we meet? The baths again?”
Matt agreed, and hurried over, Terry arriving a few minutes after him. They talked for well over an hour, or really, Terry talked, and Matt listened, letting him recall as much as he could about his past life, letting him reinforce it as best he could. When Terry had gotten out all that he could, and Matt pulled him close for a hug, he tried to pull away, but Matt wouldn’t let him go.
“I can’t–I can’t do this,” Terry said.
“Can’t do what?”
“I can’t–I can’t keep feeling like this with you, I just can’t.”
Matt leaned in and kissed him anyway, and Terry’s resistance didn’t last after that. From that point onward, even though neither of them said it aloud, they knew they were in this together. The meetings, the almighty resistance which formed from that day in the baths, was really nothing more than a bunch of them sitting in the room, remembering themselves. Matt and Terry both started looking for others who remembered what happened. Some wanted to change back, others were happy with who they were now, but by and large, all of them agreed–they wished they had had a choice in what had happened to them all. It was this message, Matt thought, which had led to such a backlash from Tristan and Erikson and the rest of the campus–it was that they objected not to the change, but to the forcefulness of it which stirred the campus up.
But now, well, now here Matt was, unable to sleep, unable to think about anything other than Terry, curled up in his room where Matt should be too, holding him in his arms. They had decided it would be for the best for the two of them to keep up appearances, for Matt to stay with Tom, and for Terry to keep up with his business major. Terry’s work didn’t bother Matt as much as he would have expected it to. Terry was a professional, and sex with customers, for him, was just a transaction–he knew that what they shared was deeper than that. But every night he had to sleep with Tom and those inches between them was another wound in his soul. He couldn’t face that anymore.
He got dressed in his warmest clothes, packed a bag with as many of his things as he could fit, being as quiet as he could, but Tom never even stirred awake. It was tough going through the waist deep snow covering campus, but Matt wouldn’t be turned back, not now, not ever again. Terry had given Matt a key to his dorm room, a small basement single in a dorm on the other side of campus, and it took Matt a good hour to get there, and he stomped the damp snow off him in the foyer of the building before racing down to Terry’s room, wondering why he hadn’t done this weeks ago. He let himself in, and saw Terry buried under the covers of his bed, sleeping fitfully, and Matt stripped down as fast as he could, slid into beside him and pulled him close.
Terry never woke up, but as soon as he felt Matt’s arms curl around him, the fits stopped, his breathing eased, and he snuggled back into Matt’s warm body. This was where he needed to be, Matt realized. He did have a choice–he’d always had a choice. It didn’t matter where the changes had placed him–what mattered was what he wanted, and who he loved, and that was Terry. Sleep came on him them, sweeping him away into hibernation. He didn’t know what would come with the spring thaw, but he knew he would face it with Terry by his side, with his cub, with his love, and no one would take that away from him without one hell of a fight.
Chapter 3
Scuzz sat at the counter in Bear Boutique, flipping through the latest issue of Cubby Magazine which had arrived in that morning’s shipment, massaging his cock through his grimy jeans as he flipped through the photo shoot of the Boars, the champions of the high school football championships this year, posing naked with their coach. It really was no wonder they’d come out on top–apparently their musk was so powerful, half of the players they faced fainted right on the spot, leaving themselves opened for quite the fuck. He glanced around, flipped to the centerfold of the team’s captain showing off his ripe pits and thick cock, Scuzz licking his lips and figuring a quick wank couldn’t hurt. Toilet would love to suck down his load of course, but Scuzz had been feeling kind of…irritable of late. He was tired all the time, and he just couldn’t stop eating for the life of him. Hibernation was coming early to him apparently, because Brute, Beast and Toilet didn’t seem that close to turning in for the winter. Still, from the lack of traffic, it didn’t look like business would be picking up much until springtime.
He checked the clock–still an hour until he could close up shop and go to bed early–again. He was just so ready to sleep this coming winter away, and from the chill in his bones, he could tell it was going to be a cold one. He was glad he had Brute and their thralls to cozy up to in the coming months, he’d always hated hibernating alone…though he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone. It was the wall again, always that damn wall. He’d hoped that he’d stop caring what was on the other side at some point, but it was always there, holding his mind at bay, taunting him with…well, something, not that he could remember what it was.
He was about to pull out his cock when he heard to door chime of someone walking into the store, and grumbling, he put down the magazine to see who was coming in. To his surprise, it was a face he recognized, and not one he’d been expecting. He’d only met the man a few times, when he’d come by the shop to demo a few of the products he’d invented which were now stocking the store’s shelves. Apparently, according to Tristan, he was quite the genius when it came to psychological manipulation. What was his name again? Scuzz couldn’t remember–he’d never really been one for names. Hell, he was sometimes glad he only had one himself. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you today. Come by to drop of another one of your inventions for us to sell?”
The professor looked up over at Scuzz and smiled, “No, I’m afraid today is a personal visit–not a business one.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot your name, what was it again?”
“You can just call me Erikson, or Professor Erikson, if you’d like.”
Fat chance, Scuzz thought, smirking at the thought of him calling anyone professor. Scuzz was a graduate of the school of hard knocks, as he liked to say–he didn’t have much patience for anyone he considered high minded, and Erikson sure fit that bill, as far as he was concerned, though the bear was certainly impressively dressed. The leather dress shirt was amazingly tailored, as were his pants, and while he was definitely too clean for Scuzz’s liking, he could definitely appreciate the older man’s physique. “Alright then Erikson, what can I help you with? Looking to purchase something in particular?”
“No, I’m not looking to buy. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”
Scuzz looked at him, puzzled. “What would that be?”
“I’d like to ask you about Tristan Newbeary–what do you know about him?”
“Not very much. He’s just the shop’s owner and investor–he’s not really concerned with our day-to-day operations as long as we’re making money–and we’re not having any trouble with that.”
“It was a smart idea, sending out those samples.”
“Ha, Tristan wasn’t too fond of it, but I figured it would work.”
“Look, Scuzz, right?” Erikson said, coming close, “I’m just going to be honest with you. I know, that you know something about Tristan. Something I need to know, and I’m going to get it out of you one way or another, do you understand?”
“Well, I’d be happy to tell you what you need to know, but I don’t know what you need to know, so I can’t help you.”
Erikson stared Scuzz down for a moment, neither man flinching, before he said, “Alright, let me back up a bit. Here’s why, I think you know something about Tristan Newbeary–it’s because neither of you seem to have any record of actually existing.”
“Well I’m here, aren’t I?”
Erikson rolled his eyes, “Well, naturally, but that’s not quite what I mean. What I mean, is that both of you seem to have popped into existence here a few months ago, in the sense that there’s no record of either one of you prior to then. So, that means one of a few things might be true. Either you’ve both been living off the grid from birth, until a few months ago, or you both appeared out of thin air, and considering some of the things I’ve seen of late, I’m betting on the second. So quit with the dumb act–we both know you’re much smarter than you let on. Where in the fuck did the two of you come from, and what the hell are you?”
“I’m just a man like you.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me–I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another.”
“I’m telling you the truth. If you don’t believe me, ask Brute–the two of us have been mates for years now–and as for not having a fucking history, who don’t you just check the fucking criminal records? I can sure as hell tell you I have a few records there.”
Again, Erikson backed off, and Scuzz could tell that this wasn’t how he’d thought this conversation was going to go. After a moment, Erikson spoke again, “Alright, fine. I suppose this only leaves three options. Either you really are human, which could be true, but doubtful, or you’re lying to me very skillfully, or you actually don’t know. How about we find out which one is which?” Before Scuzz could dodge out of the way, erikson had slapped a strange patch onto the side of his head, and a second later, he felt a painful jolt of electricity shoot through his temple and dig it’s way into his mind, making him wince and cry out in pain. “Oh be quiet, and don’t fucking call for your friends.”
Scuzz’s mouth immediately shut itself, and Scuzz reached for the patch to rip it off, but his finger’s couldn’t get a grip on it. In fact, it almost felt as though it were melting into his skin. “Oh don’t worry, the neurocircuitry is already planting itself into your dermis–it won’t be coming off anytime soon. But you don’t actually want it to come off–you want to keep it on, and keep it on there. Keeping that patch there keeps you under my control, and being under my control feels so good, you don’t want that feeling to go away, do you?”
It did–It did feel good. It felt so good to be under Erikson’s control. Scuzz tried to fight it, but even his alpha mind was no match for Erikson’s technology. “No…No, I don’t.”
“Now, be polite. I like all of my students to refer to me by my title. You’re my student for the moment, and there’s a lesson I need you to remember, and you do want to make your professor happy don’t you?”
“Yes professor, what lesson?” Scuzz said, his mind happily accepting the scenario. Scuzz so wanted the professor to be happy, he’d do anything for him.
“I want you to tell me about Tristan Newbeary, about what he is, about where his power comes from, and where you both came from, and why he needs you. Tell me all of that, and I’ll be the happiest professor in the world.”
Scuzz wracked his mind, looking for an answer–and every time, he ran into that wall. The answers–all of them–were on the other side, but he couldn’t reach them, and everytime he tried, he was thrown back. “I…I know, but I can’t remember. I’m sorry Professor, I don’t know.”
“Hmm…well, there’s nothing that can jog the memory like a bit of pain, right?”
Had Professor Erikson not already told him to stay quiet, Scuzz would have screamed, and screamed louder than ever before in his life. The pain, it was everywhere–his skin ripping, his bones aching, his lungs choking off, stomach aflame with acid, and he threw himself at the wall, he threw himself at it, beating on it, desperate to get across it, to the truth, so the pain would end, so his Professor would be happy with him and end the pain, but he couldn’t beat it, it was too high, and too thick, and only when he was a blubbering mess, crumpled on the floor of the shop, did Erikson end it.
“Hmmm…” Erikson said, looking down at the defeated alpha with no emotion at all. “This is not what I was expecting. Well, I suppose there’s one other way of finding out what you are, but I’m going to need a sample.”
Bracken's Corner 