AN: Sorry that I've been away. Chapter 11 of Born Wolf is being frustrating. I will not abandon you all, Kurt would kill me if I did. To tide you over, and yes, Born Wolf will be a real book really soon, here is a little one shot that I accidentally wrote while I was supposed to be 'relaxing' from writing.
As always, you get it as it comes, no editing. This story will appear at some point in an anthology. It'll get edited then. Promise.
All characters are consensual and over 18. Also, don't pet wild bears, unfortunately real life is not fiction ... Sasha Distan xx
I stuck my hands into my pockets and scuffed at the ground with my new hiking boots. My brother had basically ordered me to break them in after he'd taken me to buy them yesterday, after my favourite pair of all-stars had disintegrated. So now here I was on the other side of the Athabasca river from my 'new home' in the wilderness, scuffing my new boots as I broke them in.
So, a bit about me. I am Hoyt Ford, I'm nineteen and I used to live the centre of Toronto. My parents died three months ago in a mass motorway collision: I miss them. It sounds obvious, but I think it bears repeating: I miss my parents, they were good people, they loved me and my brother, they raised us well. Too well I suppose because now, instead of being back in Toronto in some crappy apartment with my job in a bookstore and my friends who make my life bearable, I am just outside of Jasper, Alberta. My older brother Harry got married to the girl whose parents own the Alpine Lodge cabins on the river, and that's where I have ended up. I live and work on the site, just like everybody else. My life is very different now.
And I'll bet with a name like Hoyt and new hiking boots you'll figure I'm some kind of big, broad shouldered jock, but no, that's my brother. Harry is the clean cut jock with the megawatt smile that everyone loves. He's also eight years older than me. I am the little nerdy one. I'm not even hot-nerdy, I don't have muscle tone, I'm not all hard and skinny under my clothes, I don't have great skin and a cute face. I'm boring looking; I have blond hair and washed-out sort of water colour blue eyes, I'm sort of pale, I have knobbly knees and practically no body hair for some unexplained reason. I'm not into sports and I'm not a gym bunny, so I'm all skin and bone and soft. I'm skinny and apparently pathetic. And I like guys who are like me, but with better hair. I hate my hair: it won't be straight, it isn't actually curly, and it's not thick enough to make one of those cool over the eye fringes which the guys I fancy seem to be born with.
But Harry was sick of me moping around the campsite, bringing the mood down. It's spring, the sky is blue, the river is icy cold as it always is and I do know how to be outside. He's lived out here for years and I've been on trips to visit, it's not like I don't like nature. The best thing about having a much older brother was going on massive adventure hikes and explorations when we we're younger. Harry is bust with repairs on site, and he sent me out to break in my new hiking boots so that I won't get blisters later.
Having crossed the river by Alpine Lodge there is a bit of flat stony beech and a couple of paths leading into the forest. Last time I went for a walk, before my all-stars broke, I took the path on the far left, and I do not want to do that again. Up the far left path is a house, it looks a bit like one of our cabins, but bigger, rustic and well-built and beautiful. But the guy who lives there creeps me out. The first time I met him was not exactly my finest moment. I was peering through the windows of the big cabin, trying to see if anyone was there, when this shadow and this deep gravelly voice came up beside me.
"What'cha doin' thar boy?"
I damn near jumped out of my skin. The man was huge, like well over six feet tall, more like six-six or six-seven. Have you ever seen pictures of those old style lumberjacks? Well he looked like that, huge and broad and hairy and totally not my type at all. He wore tight worn blue jeans and a checked shirt and a big grin. I think I managed to squeak out an answer, but I can't remember what I said.
"You must be Ford's brother." His voice was just as deep an rough, and somehow the words were like a cheese grater on my spine and made me want to melt, tingles running up and down my body. I blamed my clothing, which was not very modest, t-shirt and jean-shorts. He checked me up and down. "I'm Todd Maxen, you are?"
"H-Hoyt." Damn, I hated it when I stuttered. It only happened when I was nervous, or being distracted by my inexplicably hardening cock. The hell was wrong with me? I made some lame excuse and hoped he hadn't clocked my hard on. He just grinned.
"See you around Hoyt." And I could feel him staring after me as I practically ran from the clearing and back to the river.
Now I took the path which wound up and along the river bank to the right, going away from the direction of the town, the rough gravel path worn hard by the feet of tourists. It was a good day to be wandering around the low foothills in this part of the Rockies, the sun was out, it was warm and I hated to admit it but at least my new boots didn't kill my soles in quite the way the all-stars had. It made good time up the path, listening to birds and being distracted by the world around me. I'd been up this way before, and there were a couple of inuksuk built along the edges of the path. The little stone markers pointed off into the woodland, marking animal tracks I suppose. They didn't seem to point in any logical directions. I'd been walking for about half an hour when I heard the noise.
There's all sorts of wildlife up the in forests around the Athabasca, wolves, bears, foxes, small stuff and big stuff, elk and deer and such like. Like everybody else I had gone through training of what to do if you come across a bear or a wolf. Attacks are really rare, most animals are more scared of humans, but being careful is a good thing. I turned around really, really slowly.
Standing at the edge of the path, just by one of the bigger trees was a bear. He was standing on his back legs, and taller than me. It was a black bear from the size, taller than me but not bigger than a really big man, but its fur was sort of charcoal grey and shiny. It was looking right at me. I gulped. Black bears are not usually dangerous, they're shy normally, so the first thing I did was take a step forwards, wave my arms and shout. The bear took a step forwards too. In the sun he blinked and stared at me with big golden brown eyes. He had light cinnamon patches either side of his muzzle. His tongue was really pink. Running from a bear isn't advisable. Official advice is to lay, face down on the ground and spread your legs so that they can't flip you. And then you pray they get bored and wander off. Calling for help was out, so I dropped to my knees, kept one eye on the bear and carefully lay flat in the middle of the path.
So there I was, lying on the path, listening to the bear, hoping to hear him lumber off into the forest. There was sniffing, the presence of heat and warmth, the musty scent of fur. The bear was sniffing me. I opened one eye and saw his huge feet pacing on the path, big curved grey claws the size of my little finger. I gulped. The bear moved around me, sniffing and snuffling, and when I felt his cold nose on my bare thigh I flinched.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh god ... I'm gonna die...
The bear pressed his muzzle against my taint and the heat short wired to my cock and made me instantly hard. I stopped thinking and just flipped over and scrambled backwards. On all fours the bear looked directly at me, his huge wedge shaped head level with my own. You're not supposed to make eye contact with a bear. He huffed and sat back on his haunches, watching me. I watched him back.
For a long moment we both just sat there, staring at each other, and then the black bear gave a big huff, got up and walked off into the woods of the other side of the path. I watched him go. There was a little grey stone inuksuk on the edge of the path, and its pointing arm followed the bear. I lifted a hand to my face just as tears started to flow. All the way home, I ran.
That night I lay in bed in my cabin. I'd gotten my own when I'd moved. It wasn't a luxury model, just a one room single storey set in the more wooded section of the campsite not far from the house my brother lived in. I had to go outside to use the bathroom, though the two building were attached, out of my back door and round the side of the cabin. It was private though, and that was nice. I stared at the ceiling of the cabin and thought about the bear. He had not acted how normal bears act, and that sniffing at the crotch thing ... I squirmed in shame at how my body had reacted.
.... There is more of this story ...