Baby For The Bear

Still not entirely sure of what she was doing or all the implications of it, Samantha was not the sort of girl to put less than her very best effort into anything she set out to do. With her accustomed attitude, she put the MacBook to sleep, climbed off the bed, and took herself to the bathroom for a shower and a shampoo. After blow-drying and brushing out her fall of golden hair and donning her best blouse, skirt, and shoes—yes, even the shoes; they lent themselves to her attitude—she took the computer to her desk, went into the Photo Booth app, and took some pictures of herself. Next, she broke out her selfie stick, attached it to her iPhone, and photographed herself standing up. With all the pictures collated onto her computer, she put them into a Zip file and attached them and a copy of her resume to her cover letter, and prepared to zap them off to the E-mail address provided in the ad.

For a moment that felt as if she were dangling over a precipice, as if she were at the crest of a rollercoaster or at the edge of the drop of a waterfall, Samantha sat at her desk and hovered her finger over the Enter key of her MacBook. She did not really have to go through with this. The job market was never static, with new opportunities arising every day for whoever was willing to take the time and effort to root them out. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to root and dig through the Internet and find something else, something not so off-the-wall and outrageous as renting out her womb.

However, something else would not pay $75,000 and a stipend.

Holding her breath, Samantha hit the Enter key.

She could practically feel the electrons leaping through her computer and out into the Web, carrying her bundle of information and images to wherever it was going and whomever would receive it there. At first, her breath froze as if that energy had leapt right through her. There was a tingling, dizzying moment of thinking, Did I just do that? Did I just seriously, actually do that?

Her E-mail told her, MESSAGE SENT. Yes, she actually did it.

Leaning back into her chair, she gave a long, huffing exhale. Yes, she had actually done it. And what if she had?

Whatever employee of Mister Grizzly Bucks who was in charge of all this would receive what she had sent, and would decide whether to call her in or pass her by. And she would hear back from them with either a yea or a nay. If it were a nay, then fine; it would mean she would miss out on the experience of a s*xless, clinical pregnancy with the cub of a metamorph.

And a potential $75,000 plus a stipend.

Groaning, Samantha hauled herself up from her chair and took herself back to her closet to take off what she was wearing and slip into the customary T-shirt and shorts that she liked to wear to bed. She would call it a night and sleep off whatever crazy impulse this was that had led her even to consider such a ridiculous thing.

Getting pregnant with a rich werebear, indeed…

*****

The two massive, hair-covered bodies slammed hard against each other in the spacious room with matted floors and mirrored walls. The muscles of the two mighty frames collided so hard that the very room around them seemed to shake with the impact. The mouths gaped widely, showing the huge spikes of their teeth, and the sounds of predatory roaring and grunting reverberated through the space.

Reared up on their hind legs, pressing against each other, the colossal black bears pressed and grappled at each other, exerting their huge Ursine muscles but withholding the snap of their deadly fangs and the slash of their claws that could have instantly disemboweled a human. Bellowing and roaring, they pushed their huge, fur-coated frames together, each one straining to topple the other and gain dominance. At last, one bear prevailed. With a last fearsome, bone-rattling roar, he heaved himself against his opponent and toppled him. The other bear crashed onto his side on the floor mats, and the one who’d thus brought him down came down on top of him, pinning him there and letting loose another furious bellow.

The pinned bear roared back, not as loudly, with a rasping, throaty sound, and a snorting noise—a sound of concession. He lay unmoving beneath the bear who’d pinned him, and for a moment they stayed that way, heaving and grunting, until the victory of the bear on top was firmly established. Only then did the victorious bear climb off of the one he had downed. He loped a few steps away across the floor mats and let the other one bring himself up on all-fours again. The two bears faced each other, nodding their huge Ursine heads, and grew calm.

And then, they changed.

The huge, hirsute bodies transformed, losing their fur and taking on smooth human flesh. The limbs and torsos and heads turned from those of bears to those of muscular, naked men. They stood up naturally on two legs in the space where they had stood on four. The one who’d lost nodded deferentially to his sparring partner, who nodded back, acknowledging.

The losing bear was now a very handsome, smooth-bodied, well-muscled man with dark, tousled hair and a sizable, uncircumcised pe*is. He said to the winner, “Good match today, Ken—like always.”

“Like always, Reese,” agreed Ken Brecker, rubbing casually at the bicep of one arm. “You’re harder to beat every time.” The naked Ken Brecker was a sight to behold, a tower of massive but not overbuilt and bulging muscle, with hair bristling across the broad, hard plateau of his chest and down the plates of his abs. His thick, dark hair crowned an intensely and magnetically handsome face with piercing, dark eyes, and was complemented by the shadow of stubbly hair covering his cheekbones, jawline, and upper lip. A patch of dark hair at his crotch sat above a formidably long and thick, uncut co*k. Everything about Ken, his look and his manner, marked him as an Alpha. In any forest, he would be the king.