Bear My Fruit Immediately

by lamarcodon

On a flat screen mounted above the bar, you watch a flawless touchdown pass and then
almost cringe when the entire patronage erupts into cheers at once.
It’s only a handful of men, maybe six or seven, but damn did they get loud for a second there.
“Fuckin’ Bears are makin’ it happen tonight!” your friend shouts as the triumphant yells
begin to die down.
You’re both on the tipsy side, him probably a little more. You’ve reached that point where
things are starting to blend together. It’s a good thing you can walk back to your apartment from
here, because neither of you is going to be driving.
You clap a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Let’s, uhh, let’s finish the game, and head on back,
right? You can stay over tonight… if you want…”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he nods. His face is flushed a delighted red and he’s licked his plate clean
of the pile of barbeque wings he ordered earlier.
Somehow, the bar seems to be emptying out as you finish the game though. The other guys
aren’t staying to watch? Maybe they’ll go home and turn on their TVs, but… why not just wait it
out? One old guy, bald under his trucker’s cap, remains in a booth all alone just like he’s been all
night. Probably a veteran, or someone who’s been divorced too many times to ever enjoy life again.
Or he just likes his solitude. You’re being judgmental. You take a swig from your bottle, but
you get air; you must’ve emptied it and not even realized. It’s ok, you’re kinda full anyway. You don’t
need anymore.
What time is it?
You pull out your phone. The numbers are almost too fuzzy to read, but it looks like it’s just
after midnight. Strange that the bar would empty out before…
The game is over and Ben’s the only one cheering, his crowd has left him, you’re a bit too
sleepy-tired to bother, and that old guy doesn’t seem to care about the results.
Wait, where’d the old guy go?
Maybe you’re thinker than you drank. Uh. Maybe, um.
Ben’s there to nudge your shoulder with his fist and grin at you and make you remember ‘oh
yeah, we were gonna get up and go back home.’ You guys stagger out of the bar. As you leave, Ben
reaches out and grabs a bottle from a table.
“Dude check it out man,” he says quietly. “Someone left… this perfectly good unopened
bottle.”
“Hey did…*burp* they win?” you ask him.
“Ye—ohh shit. Wait. Uhh. Yeah! Yeah they did,” Ben snaps the cap off the bonus bottle as
you guys leave the bar. “Yeah man…” He takes a long drink.
And he offers you some, but you smile and put your hand up. “Nnnnahhhh dude I’ve had
enough tonight.” You’re at least sober enough to realize that… any more and you won’t be
functioning properly. Of course, you are about to go to bed, but. Ehh.
It’s a nice leisurely walk through a calm night, on a well-lit sidewalk, with almost no traffic
this time of night to keep you waiting at street corners. The air is pleasant; you were feeling a bit
stuffy and warm in that bar. Now you’re just boozy and smiley and a little on the sensitive side. You
both see a woman pull into her apartment’s parking lot and get out, and neither of you says a word,
but you nudge each other and stare as she enters the building. Very. Nice. Instantly hard and ready
to go.
Of course you keep walking. Even this drunk and this horny, you’d probably fall asleep
before you asked anyone for their number let alone managed to unzip your pants.

1
 You probably should have been home already, but you are both on the wobbly side. Ben
takes another drink from his bonus bottle. “I can’t believe, *belch*, someone just fuckin’… left this
sitting there. Someone just ordered a beer with their hard-earned money… *urp*.” Ben offers you
the bottle again.
“Nnnope. Thanks though. Heheh.”
Is he ok? He seems a little shaky—he just put his arm around your shoulders just now,
and… it just feels like he’s really losing it. He’s probably had one too many by now. You consider
taking the bottle from him and pretending to drink it and toss it away, but that would be a shitty,
littery thing to do. You try to study him and that involves focusing your eyes when all you really
want to do is close them.
Ben is built similar to you—you’re both college seniors, young men in the early 20’s. Neither
of you is a big burly jock, but you both walk just about everywhere, all over the city, and you both
lift weights on a regular basis. You’re not fat, but you’re not skinny either. Yet you’ve both managed
to maintain healthy bodies thus far, without the stereotypical college-boy weight gain that most
other seniors have packed on by now.
So you have to grin when you realize that tonight, Ben’s managed to give himself a visible
beer belly. You can just see a strip of smooth skin under the hem of his shirt where the fabric is
clinging to the rounded shape of his normally-flat abdomen. He definitely needs to stop.
Bbbuuuut. He’s almost finished that bottle. Why stop him now?
Is he… is he bigger than he was ten minutes ago?
Uggh, you don’t want to focus on something for that long. It’s just a trick of your drunk-ass
eyes. And the night, and going in and out of patches of bright street light.
You’re at your apartment’s front door. You’ve got to not fumble around here, so you give
yourself a few slaps to the face and bounce on your feet for a second like a boxer preparing to fight.
“Ok ok, where’s my… keycard…” You dig it out and slide it through. The doors beep and you’re
able to push them open.
At the front desk, there’s a night guard. You walk over and smile at her—a black lady who’s
probably in her 50’s. “Hi. Um. Yvonne. This, uhh… I’m drunk.”
“Ohh I can see that baby,” she chuckles quietly.
“Uhh. So yeah.” You pass her your student ID. “Here’s mine, and uhh. My friend Ben here.
He’s gonna… stay the night.”
“Him too, huh?” Yvonne asks as she scans your ID. It’s a late-night procedure; normally
you’d both be free to just walk on in, but Ben’s not a resident here, so you’ve got to ‘check him in,’
so to speak. College-run apartments are just different like that sometimes.
“Yyyyep.”
Ben wraps his arms around you from behind. “Honey we need to get to bed, I’m tiiirrred.”
“Would you not??” you swat at him, but he doesn’t let go. “You, my dude… are sleeping on
the *BURP* couch!” you clap a hand to your mouth and give Yvonne a sheepish grin. “S’cuse me.”
“Y’all get on up to bed now, ok?” Yvonne says. She’s got a warm, matronly air that endears
her to every resident of the building.
“Night, Yvonne,” you say.
And then you have to drag Ben with you, which is kinda like running a 3-legged race,
because he’s got his arms clamped firmly around your waist and will not let go, giggling quietly the
entire time you make your way to the elevator. “heheh. Dude. Haha. I made her think. We were
homos.”
“I hate you.”
“Haaahaaa….”
“Would you let go??”
2
 You grab at the arms around you and then you realize that, well. They are a good deal
thicker than they’re supposed to be. And much stronger. You frown and you stare down at them.
This isn’t right. Ben’s legit about the same size as you, in almost every way. You’re 2 inches taller.
He’s one shoe size bigger. He’s got slightly broader shoulders. And you’ve got a slightly longer torso.
You shove him away. He falls against the elevator’s walls, chuckling. “Ahhh dude. You’re.
You’re so mad right now.”
“No I’m not mad, I’m—”
“Ohhohooo you’re mad, I can tell,” Ben points at you like a cartoon character. He burps. It’s
loud in the elevator.
You don’t argue with him. You in fact, cannot speak. You’re a bit dumbstruck at what you
see before you.
Ben’s dirty blond hair has darkened into more of a brownish shade. Somehow.
His abdomen seems to have ballooned into a sizeable, ‘stopped exercising 3 months ago due
to stress and have been late night snacking a lot’ gut. It bulges out from under his shirt like a firm,
beer-filled drum.
His arms are in fact, much larger than they’re supposed to be. Stronger. Thicker. In fact
every part of him looks bigger than he actually is. Are you really, really drunk? Are you like horny
drunk and just imagining—
Nope. You are not.
How do you know?
Because he stands back up straight for a moment and not only is he taller than you now, but
you watch as the lower half of his face grows a coating of brown stubble.
Yes. Ben literally grows a five o clock shadow in about two seconds. And it’s not even blond
like it should be. It’s brown for some reason.
“Duuude…” you stare at him. “What. The fuck.”
“What, whassup?” he grins. And he lets out a quick, deep little burp.
Your eyes get wide as you watch his belly swell up and out a few inches with his belch.
“Whaaat theee fuuuuck???” you shake your head, cover your eyes and open them, run your
fingers through your hair, lean against the elevator door, blink a lot… and nope, the image before
you is still the same. Your best friend is growing up and out and bigger and beefier and there’s
like… there’s hair everywhere suddenly, that he doesn’t normally have, you watch a thick trail of
brown shoot up his belly and spread down from his neck.
His shirt’s super tight, not just because of his swelling gut, but like his pecs and his shoulders
and his arms are just taking up way to much space in there now. He’s twice your size in terms of
muscle. Just like that. And good grief is he changing fast now.
Where’d that bottle go?
It’s on the ground, empty, in the corner of the elevator.
You bend over and pick it up.
“I offered you some!” Ben says. He’s still kind of half-laughing at you. His voice is
deepening; it seems to get a little lower every time you see his waistline enlarge.
“Dude what the fuck is happening to you??” you whisper.
The elevator doors are wide open. You just realized. When did you guys reach your floor?
You didn’t even hear the *ding.* Maybe his belches covered it up.
You turn to leave the elevator and again Ben reaches for you and wraps you in a tight,
affectionate bear hug. His enormous new arms, covered in brown hair that wasn’t there before,
squeeze you tightly against his massive new pecs and bulging new gut. You’re able to walk at least,
but what the fucking fuck has happened to your friend?

3
 You read the label on the bonus bottle as you try to pull him along to your apartment.
There’s a picture of a log cabin with a moonshine still sitting out front and a grizzly bear poking its
head around the corner of the cabin to stare at the brewing batch of booze. And there’s something
written in Cyrillic. You can’t read it but you’ve got an obvious feeling that it has something to do
with Russia and bears and probably comrades or something.
Ben is actually squeezing you kinda tight and it’s definitely hard to keep walking. He’s
nuzzling the back of your neck. You can feel his new stubble tickling you. In fact, you can also feel it
coming in thicker, growing by the second. Something else feels weird about his face, too, but you’re
not sure…
You open your apartment door and pull your growing, changing best friend inside. “Ben you
wanna let go of me for like two seconds so I can lock the door?”
“Awww ooo-KAAAYYY…” Ben rumbles. His voice is just… crazy deep now. He doesn’t
even seem to realize anything’s happened to him. “When do we go to bed??” He stretches up and
yawns loudly; it’s almost a growl… or a roar. His poor shirt doesn’t even try to resist, and just rides
all the way up to his bulky new pecs. The fat round gut is now on full display. He’s become almost
coated in brown hair; Ben was a smooth guy before this freaky change.
“Ok look. Come with me. I have a mirror in the bedroom.”
“YES the bedroom let’s… *burp* go.” Sheesh, his gut just… every time he burps, it seems.
Bloats up even bigger. He’s huge. He towers over you now. He’s got a full beard. He’s got a full gut
the size of… well, it’s certainly his most notable feature, that’s for sure. But everything about him is
so much bigger and heavier now, that it doesn’t look disproportionate.
He grunts as you lead him to your bedroom. You stand him in front of the floor-length
mirror you check once a day before leaving for class.
“Whoooaaa duuuuude… look at me!!” Ben says. “How the… dude! DUDE. Whoa. Am I
like… duuude what the fuck??”
You’re thinking the same thing, because, you looked away from him for a few seconds as
you lead him back to your room, and now that you’re looking at him again…
His face.
His face has… it’s no longer human. Like it’s still Ben? But. It’s… he’s got a snout.
A muzzle. With a dog nose… no, it’s a bear nose.
Ben’s turning into a bear.
A literal. Hulking great fat hairy bear-that-shits-in-the-woods. And eats honey from hives.
And catches salmon swimming upriver.
With ridiculously large and powerful limbs.
Ben cringes and looks like he’s about to cry for a moment. He’s not like, full-on animal? But
his face is definitely more bearish than human. But somehow he’s still got human expressions, and
he can talk… “my feet, dude!” he whines, and you both look down just in time to see his feet burst
his shoes open at the soles, and his toes have claws on the ends, and he holds his hands up in panic
to watch them grow claws as well. His hands. His hands are massive. His fingers are way too thick;
he’s got paw pads now. They’re still shaped like human hands, but really, really thick and bulky.
He almost looks a little top heavy. His legs are as big around as your body now, reinforced
with tree trunk muscles to support all the weight above.
Ben hunches forward. He leans over your bed and grunts, and you look behind him and you
see his pants split open.
He’s got a stubby little bear tail now.
And all that hair, that body hair that looked human? It’s fur. It’s all fur. Brown, shaggy bear
fur.

4
 He’s not quite an actual bear. More like a bear-man. Like a werewolf or something… a were-
bear? Is that a thing? Was that ever a thing?
Well it damn sure is now!
“Ben??” you whimper. “Are you ok bro?”
He belches. His eyes are just about the only thing about him still recognizable as your friend
from before, still a pale green. Bigger now, of course, in his bigger skull with bigger eye sockets…
And he’s still got eyebrows.
GROSS, you think for a moment. He kinda looks like a fuckin’ furry, dude…
“All… my clothes… are ruined!” he mumbles. He’s staring at his hands, and down at his
vast tank of an abdomen, and… “Dude what happened to me??”
“I don’t know! You just HAD to drink that stupid last bottle!” you say.
“Dude lemme see it, what—”
“NO,” you snap. You pull back out of his reach and tuck the bottle safely into your sock
drawer. “No. It’s empty, first of all. Second of all you’re a fucking BEAR-MAN. And uhh. Sheesh
I’m still half-drunk…”
You do feel somewhat sobered up by what you’ve just witnessed, but you’re still shaky on
your feet and woozy in general. Unstable.
“Uh. Tomorrow, we’re gonna… take a look at that label, and see if we can’t track down…
whoever made the stuff. So we can get you back to normal.”
“But… but dude. If I’m…” Ben’s busy studying his padded hands. “If I’m like, a bear-dude.
How am I supposed to go out in public?”
“We’ll pretend you’re going to a furry convention,” you growl. “Now… let’s just, get some
sleep, and, uhh. Yeah.” You rub your forehead. “I’m tired as hell and need to sleep this off and hope
I don’t wake up hungover…”
Ben’s leaning over the bed and propping himself up with one massive furry hand, while the
other feels just how insanely big and round his belly has become. “Duuuude. I’m… I’m sooo FAT
now…” You can see the cringe in his eyes as he stares down at his engorged figure. “It just feels
like… like all that, uhh, beer… like it’s all, I dunno, expanded in there…” He lets out a mighty
belch, his bear-snout opening wide to show off some very real ursine fangs in his mouth.
“Are you gonna be ok?” you ask.
“Well I don’t wanna… sleep, anymore,” he says. “I mean could you go to sleep if you just
like, turned into a monster??” Ben’s eyes give you an anxious look.
“I probably won’t go to sleep for awhile either, this is just too weird,” you say. “But I’m
fuckin’ drained… runnin’ on fumes here.”
The only pieces of Ben’s clothing still attached to him are his blue t-shirt, which is basically a
tiny tube top around his gigantic chest… and his pair of boxers, desperately trying to do their job.
You try not to look down there, and it’s hard to really see anything with his belly in the way, but it
looks like they’re going to be failing miserably pretty soon.
The whole, ‘bear-in-a-t-shirt’ thing actually gives him a sort of… Winnie-the-Pooh effect.
And, funnily enough, his trendy, spiked-up hairstyle is still kinda there, it’s just fur now. And it’s
brown. As opposed to his natural blond.
You sigh as you take in the sight of him. You’re too tired and still too tipsy to put further
thought into it. You walk up to him and pat his shoulder. “Look bro. Let’s… let’s get you to bed
and… we’ll work through this in the morning, ok?”
Ben straightens up a bit. He’s. HUGE. He’s looking down at you. You’re looking up… to
meet his gaze… wow, you actually feel really tiny, next to him.

5
 He looks scared. He’s a burly brute of a monster-man, and he looks fearful and uneasy and
even a little embarrassed. He slowly reaches out and pulls you into an inescapable hug, squashing
you flat against his firm, hairy belly and burying your face between his pecs.
Mmm. His fur is actually super soft and feels really good.
“Thanks bro,” he mumbles. “You’re. You’re a good friend. Good bro. Real.”
“Ok, heheh… ok. Yeah. You’re welcome. Now let’s, uhh. Put me down, ok? And get some
rest.”
He’s squeezing tighter and tighter, and your feet are leaving the ground, and his massive
arms are just crushing the air out of you, very affectionately. You can feel a deep growl rumble
against your body. “Do you think, maybe, uhh…” Ben shivers a little. He eases up so you can
breathe, and pulls you back just enough to look you in the eyes.
“Bed.”
“Yeah, yeah… bed…” Ben shuffles closer to your bed and lets go, so that you fall
backwards. You’re flat on your back for a moment and then… then he’s on top of you.
“WHOA whoa whoa whoa. No. Nope. Get… off!” you growl.
“Mmmmm,” Ben moans, nuzzling you and keeping you flat and immobilized. “You’re…
you’re so tiny, now… you’re like, my little buddy.”
“I’m not tiny you’re just a big fucking werewolf beast thing now GET. OFF.” Your shoves
have utterly no effect on his incredible weight and power.
One of Ben’s hands is ruffling your hair up like an overly-enthusiastic drunk uncle at a
cookout. You can’t see anything. You just feel his soft fur all over and you smell his cologne mixed
with his underlying natural scent and this new… well, you’ve never smelled a bear before, but it has
to be a bear scent overpowering your senses, right?
Or is that… is that arousal?
Sheesh his fat, bulging gut is just SMUSHING you into the bed. You’re gonna end up
flattened against it like Crash Bandicoot when the rolling boulder kills him.
You give Ben a few punches to the shoulder—not super hard or violent, but definitely
aggressive, like an irritated dog snapping at whichever packmate has just annoyed him too much.
“Dude! Get the fuck off me, you’re making it hard to… fuckin’ breathe…”
“Mmmm I’m sorry broski, it’s just… I really… I really wanna, uhh… fuc—CUDDLE…
with, umm. Cuddle… sleep… uhh.” Ben’s voice doesn’t sound entirely convinced he’s saying the
right thing.
“Look, if you want the bed, just say so, it’s not like I’m about to fight you for it,” you
grumble. “I’d lose.”
“Nonono, I don’t… I don’t wanna, umm… I don’t want. To be. Alone.” Ben squeezes you
and nuzzles his snout against your neck. “We could sleep, y’know. Together.”
Well. He’s your best friend. And he has been since high school. And… you’re both drunk.
And he’s an insanely powerful furry bug-bear-beast thing. So are you supposed to say no? At least
he’s soft and warm and cuddly. Like a big stuffed animal. Very huggable. Not that you can really hug
him at all with your arms pinned to your sides because of his hugs.
Normally it would be a fair match-up. You’re both equally strong. But you, at the moment,
are not a monster.
So when you feel Ben grinding his crotch against you down south, your eyes go wide and
you feel a nasty twinge of fear.
“Uh. Hey. Hey Ben. Bro. Let’s… I got a good idea, ok? Let’s just. Go to sleep. Ok?”
“Mmm-hmm…” Ben dry humps you.
“BEN. Let’s. Just. Gently. Peacefully. Sleep.”
“Mmmmm.”
6
 He dry-humps you again. You realize that his boxers are lying snapped open on the ground
next to the bed.
That’s a cock.
That’s a very big, very thick, very weighty piece of manhood down there rubbing against
your hips, your thighs, your belly, your own junk…
Things happen quickly. You yelp in desperation as Ben’s great big hands grip you tightly and
remove your pants, your underwear. You’re too drunk, and now too scared, to form proper
sentences. Every thing comes out as a babbling, pleading tirade of idle threats and panicked begging.
Ben slides his fat bear-beast cock between your cheeks. You feel it sliming your skin with
hot precum. It’s oozing all along your crack, your hole. Seeping down in there. It’s hot, but it almost
feels cold when it trickles inside. And he isn’t pushing or anything, just grinding up and down, hot
dogging your buttcrack.
Slurping and slopping that creamy, slimy, warm precum aaallll up in there.
You’re cringing away from him, trying to scramble up towards the headboard, like it’s going
to do you any good. “Ben Ben can we just like go to sleep I don’t wanna do this we don’t have to do
this do you really wanna do this what if you hurt me what if you rip me open can’t we just go find
you a girl or something what happened to Shannon you were telling me about—”
“We broke up,” Ben says with a sharp-toothed smile. He places a massive hand over your
mouth. “Shhhh little buddy, shhhh, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m gonna ffffuuuck yoouuu. And you’re
gonna feel. So. Good. Yes. Yes you are…”
“Nonono you’re just really big and I’ve never even been…” you’re almost to the point of
tears. You’re terrified of the feeling of that blunt instrument down there, poking your clenched
butthole delicately as if trying to politely knock on a door.
“Well this’ll be the first time. For both of us. ‘Cuz I never fucked, a bro, before…” Ben’s
beefy arms pull you close. “It’ll be alright. Little buddy. I’ll be gentle with you. I’ll make you feel
amazing. I’ll fill you right up. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“Ben, Ben please don’t, I don’t wanna,” you whimper. You’re not even struggling anymore.
What’s the point? He’s a monster. He’s huge. There’s actually a 0% chance you’re going to break
free of him. His power is bearing down upon you, you’re wrapped firmly in his mighty grip, and all
his heavy weight is keeping you pinned against the mattress beneath.
Words and pleading are all you have left.
They’re not enough.
Ben begins to spread you wide, and you feel like your lower body is splitting open. You’re
trying to resist. And it isn’t working, because he’s lubed you up so good. No matter how hard you
clench, you just keep getting forced open, wider, and wider. You can’t see anything but his grunting,
happy, lip-biting bear-face, his eyes squinted as he enjoys the sensations of such a tight hole sucking
his penis inside.
“Ooooooo yyyeah this is good, little bro,” Ben says into your chest. “MMmmm! Mmm.
Wow. I should’ve tried fuckin’ a dude years ago. It’s just like a pussy. Just. A little different. But… I
dunno. It’s…”
You’re crying. You can’t talk to him. You just feel… betrayed, hurt, both physically and
emotionally. You still think he’s your best friend in there. It has to be the monster. You can just…
separate the monster from the man. The man is your friend. The monster, though, is raping you.
“Ben…?” you quietly sob.
“Shhhh-shhh-shhh it’s ok dude!” Ben says. His big warm hand caresses your cheek. “Hey,
just let me in, ok? It should feel better if you stop trying to fight it. Just relax, bro. Relax and let me
go in. Relax…”

7
 He places his paw on your chest and rubs, gently. “Shhhh… relaaaxxx… that’s it… thaaatt’s
it…”
You’re trying to stop crying and sniffing, and you’re trying to fight your instincts and just
relax, like he says. Is he right? You don’t know. You’re not experienced with this sort of thing. At all.
If you relax, will you feel better?
Ben is in there deep now. Too deep. He shouldn’t be in there at all.
You can feel his cock poking the inside of your belly.
Your eyes roll around in your head. Ben pats your chest. “Theerrre we go, little bro. Just let
it happen. Just. Let me in. You’re gonna be. Fine.
You stare up at your bear-i-fied friend. He’s like a great big brown shadow in the unlit
bedroom. The moonlight comes in from the window above the bed and shows you his general
position, but otherwise he simply looms above you as a huge dark shape, gently raping you.
There’s an oxymoron. Gentle rape? What?
… is it rape if it’s your best friend and he’s turned into a monster and is drunk as hell and
possibly mind-affected from being, y’know, no longer human? Is this just… the monster, taking
over?
Yes. You tell yourself it’s not actually Ben. Your best bro wouldn’t hurt you. He would never
do this sort of thing to you.
Of course, he would also never turn into a bear.
And if he weren’t a bear, you would have been able to fight him off you, especially since he
was drunker than you, and therefore slosh-ier and easier to put down.
“There we go, bro. BALLS deep,” Ben chuckles. He cuddles up against you. “Shhh. It’s ok.
You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna take good care of you. Soon you’ll be cumming all over your bed.”
He humps you for real. It’s a great big sweeping motion that shoves your entire body up
against the headboard, and then pulls you back down underneath his fat gut. It’s so soft, yet so
round and firm, like a furry basketball. If basketballs were the size of tires.
And that’s how he fucks you. Never any small little motions, just great big sweeps. Plunging
in as deep as he can go, tickling your belly with the tip of his schlong.
“Are you feelin’ good yet?” Ben asks.
You sniff and give him your most pitiful look. “Nnnoooo…”
“Ohh shit. Uhh. Lemme see if I can’t fix that… it’s gotta be around here somewhere.”
And he starts moving you around, as if trying to scramble your guts to make an omelet out
of you. You feel his shaft sliding around, poking around in there. Deep inside. So incredibly full of
him. Your eyes roll back and you can’t really think and he has done something to you.
“There we go, that’s a proper boner, hahaha…” Ben looks happily down at you and ruffles
your hair and holds your head in his hands. “How’s that? Better?”
You stare up at him, dazed. You’re suddenly. SO. HORNY. How did he do that??? What did
he do to you? Did he just… turn you gay?
You don’t have time to think about it. He takes your stunned, submissive look as a ‘yes’ and
resumes his own motions of smashing you into the bed with powerful humps. The beast seems to
be really coming out the longer he fucks you; you can hear raspy growls rumbling up out of his gut
that sound much more animalistic than before. Short huffing snuffs, just like the panting of a proper
bear.
Why are you gay all of a sudden?
Why do you like this all of a sudden?
Where did that fucking crazy hard boner come from and how did he do it and can you make
it happen again sometime without his help???

8
 You start creaming the underside of his belly and you can’t help it, it just spills out of you,
like a hose that’s just been unkinked, gushing, spewing, slopping all up in his fur.
“Eeeeewwww,” Ben teases with a deep huffy laugh. “Hehehe. Huh. My turn. Little bro. I
hope you’re ready for… some cum.”
Already your boner’s flagging a bit and your brain flips a switch back into ‘oh shit I’m bein’
fucked in the butt by a dude.’ And you start realizing that it’s worse, because you’re about to have
another man’s cum inside you. Gross!
Your brain shuts off for a second.
When the proverbial lights flicker back on, you realized your temporary mental brown-out
was because you feel like something slammed into your stomach like a punch. Except… it doesn’t
hurt. It’s just a big impact. Like a pillow, maybe. Like someone hit you super-hard in a pillow fight,
right in the tummy.
And, well, it’s a really wet pillow, and it’s inside you, and it’s not a pillow at all.
It’s a terrifyingly powerful blast of monster-bear-man cum.
And it’s not alone. There’s like ten more of them.
They plow into you like runaway trains. Like cannonfire. Blasts. They’re not pitiful little
human-dude spurts, they’re blasts. They’re industrial-strength pumps of heavy cream, jetting into you
as if from a geyser.
You quiver as you feel yourself loaded up. You’re like a tiny donut being jam-packed with
thick rich filling. Ben stops finally, and sits back on his haunches, panting and huffing and grinning
down at you in the darkness.
“There. That was fun dude. You ok? You came pretty good.”
You flinch. He’s still buried deep inside you. When you prop yourself up on your elbows you
realize that you actually feel over-stuffed. The meal and the drinking from earlier are still in there,
but now they’re vying for space with a vast load of spooge from your best monster-bear-friend.
Sheesh, if you didn’t know better, you’d almost say you were looking a little bloated. You
certainly feel that way. It’s just your heavy breathing, making your chest and belly rise up and down,
fooling your eyes…
Ben leans in and pushes you onto your back again. He’s smiling. His teeth are right in your
face. “Let’s try again. I wanna see if I can make you cum hands-free again.”
“Uhhh wait wait wait Ben, uhh I mean, yeah, that was a nice, uhh, orgasm… but… but we
should just… take it easy and get some sleep…”
“Ohhh nonsense. I don’t feel like sleeping. I feel like FUCKING.” His voice gets real growly
and gruff right there at the end, and his hands force you back down. “You, little dude. You go to
sleep if you want. But I, hmmmm mmmmm…” he leans down to nuzzle your chest with his face. “I
need. To. Fuck.”
For a strange, frozen moment in time, you take stock. Inventory the situation.
You are being fucked.
By your best friend.
Who is another man.
Who has transformed, horror-movie-style, into a were-bear.
And who is apparently not done fucking you.
And there is a fat slippery pecker buried deep inside your ass.
And your bowels are uncomfortably warm and full of cum.
And your best friend is starting to hump you again.
“Mmmffff bro I just. Mmmfff.” His deep, gruff grunting is making you cringe, no you’re
cowering, at his… his dominance. His masculinity, his virility… sure, he’s like mostly bear, but he’s

9
very large and covered with hair and extremely muscular and powerful and takes up a ton of space,
and is able to flood all your nooks and crannies with a single ejaculation.
Oh shit.
What’s the second one going to do?
“Just, Ben, can you like pull out this time, if you… if you wanna keep going I can’t stop you
ok?” you say in a shaky, quiet little voice. “Just. Y’know. Can you not… add more. To what’s already
in there?”
“But. I need to fill… your womb.”
You wish, with all your might, that you could just bring the world to a screeching halt so you
could sit up and break the fourth wall between you and whoever’s getting off on this situation and
shriek ‘did he just say WOMB??’ to the cosmos.
“I don’t. Have. Excuse me. A womb. Ben. What the fuck.”
“MMmmmmffff hehehe… grrrrr…” Ben shifts his position on top of you and hikes your
legs up and out with his hands. He pulls back, so that your legs are now spread apart by his wide
bear-gut, unable to close. “I will stuff you full. I will. Find. Your womb. And fill it. To the brim—”
“Ben I don’t have. A womb.” He leans in to cuddle against you for a moment and you take the
opportunity to rap sharply on his skull with your knuckles. “I am not a female. And therefore do not
have. A womb.”
“You will when I’m done with you,” Ben growls and giggles and wraps his arms around the small
of your back. He crushes you as close to his body as physics will allow.
“EXCUSE ME. WHAT.”
“I’ll…” Ben’s massive arms are removing the air from your lungs. “I will. Fuck. A womb.
Into you. If I have to.”
“THCHHHFFF???” He’s given you a scary boner once more, an unwanted but super-
happy-fun erection that you wish would just leave but won’t.
“And then. I will. FUCK. MANY. CUBS. Into. That womb.”
You’re only able to whine about the impossibility of this phrase for a moment before you
start cumming again. This time it’s a weak, lackadaisical flow, a bit disappointing in any other
circumstance but you are being fucked by your monstrous best friend, so at least there’s a few
orgasms in it for you.
And then your belly starts to swell.
First you feel it. You feel the bloat, welling up inside, bubbling and gurgling. Slapping into
you like water against the sides of a pool. It’s so, so very hot.
Ben notices that your tummy is actually rounding out as he cums inside once more. He
giggles hysterically. “That kinda tickles dude.” You realize your stomach is bulging upwards, bigger
and bigger, and poking into his fur-covered globe of a gut.
You don’t say anything else. You’re dumbstruck, too horrified and too incredulous to form
words. You just lay there, with Ben’s huge figure looming over you and his soft furry belly pressing
you downwards, and your own flooding abdomen rising higher and higher.
Soon you have a plump round bloat sticking up in the air like Ben crammed a basketball
inside and inflated it beyond the legal limit to cause a sports scandal.
“There you go.” He says it like he’s just delivered a magazine to your front door. Or a crate
of milk or something.
He reaches down to feel your bulging belly. “Look, bro.” He has this goofy smile on his
face. “Look how pregnant you are.”
“I’m not…” you let out a weird, nasty-tasting burp. Ugh it feels like… like you’re gonna
spew his cum out both ends in a minute, especially if he doesn’t get off you and ease some of that
pressure. “I’m not. Fuckin’. Pregnant. Don’t be an idiot.”
10
 Ben’s furry face rubs against the tight skin of your stomach; he even kisses it. “You will have.
Two cubs. For me. Just like it’s supposed to be. A nice mama bear.”
“Did this weird-ass transformation fuck your brain up or something??” you ask. “I’m a
GUY, Ben. A male. This is just… this is stupid. I’m going to sleep. DON’T sleep-fuck me. This is
bad enough.”
You lay back and close your eyes.
“Mmm. Ok little buddy. Lil’ bro. Ok. Heheh.” The bed has not yet stopped creaking under
his heft, and it protests even louder as Ben lays down next to you. Before you can say a word, he’s
pulled you into a very soft, warm, cuddly spoon. And his huge hands are all over your distended,
tormented gut. And it feels super nice.

********************

You wake up sometime the next day around 11, with bright sunlight already filling your
bedroom and pleasant birds chirping in the tree outside.
And Ben’s arms are still wrapped around you, but. They’re normal again. He’s human.
And you are still. Extremely bloated.
You get up, stagger over to the mirror to look at yourself. Your eyes are bleary and red. You
look a little pale, or ashen. Like you might need to puke. Definitely experiencing a mild hangover.
You glance back at Ben over on the bed, nearly completely nude, but fully human once
more. He looks peaceful and happy. He looks completely incapable of raping anyone. Or filling an
adult male’s stomach with so much cum that you can’t see your own dick when you stand over the
toilet to pee.
You wash your hands after peeing, and decide to go put some clothes on, and promptly lean
over the toilet to barf. It’s a quick, wet, super-sour tasting puking session. You sit back on your
haunches after it’s done, catch your breath, and then stand up.
“Hey dude. Hangover?” Ben asks from the bathroom door. He looks absolutely un-
hungover. Maybe the monster absorbed all the alcohol for him or something?
You don’t say a word. He does all the talking.
“Why are you like, naked? I mean. Uhh. Why was I sleeping in… why are you so fuckin’
bloated, man?” he rapid fires the questions.
You grumble at him and push past him. “Do you fucking. Remember. Anything about last
night?”
“Uhhh… the Bears won the game?? Yeah. And uhh, you said I should stay over, ‘cuz of the
drinking, which I appreciate bro. I really do.”
“What. ELSE.” You pull on a pair of gym shorts. The waistband tickles a little bit on your
sensitive tight skin.
Ben giggles at you. “Heheh, you just look, I dunno, fuckin’ pregnant dude. Look at that
fuckin’ gut, haha…”
You lurch. You might be throwing up again soon.
You’re hungover, after all. Sheesh, your stomach’s just churning inside. Noisy.
Growling.

FIN

11