Becoming the Bear

"Oh, shit!" Walt knew he had hard decisions to make. Removing the splinter would likely cause more bleeding. Not removing the splinter would make moving Mitch without causing more injury nearly impossible. Walt felt sure Mitch's lung had been pierced by the wood, the bubbling sound when he tried to breathe making that a certainty. Walt knew little of first aid. "He's going to die," Walt thought as tears welled in his eyes. "I can't get him to safety in this weather, and if we stay here, he will die, I know it." He bushed tears away savagely and thought hard. "I'll leave the splinter in place for a bit... he's so terribly cold. Shock, I think, and loss of blood. He needs to be warm."

Walt hurried outside in the snow and looked around. Struggling to see in the blowing snow, he spied some deadfall a few yards form the mouth of the cave. He broke several branches into smaller pieces and tossed them onto the rock ledge in front of the cave. He then took the log and tore it into medium size chunks, and tossed those, too. He scrambled back into the cave, dragging the wood in behind him. He opened his fanny pack and took out the knife, safety matches and the fire starter sticks. He quickly shaved some bark from the smallest branches and broke the fire sticks in pieces. He laid the larger pieces of kindling on top and lit one of the safety matches. It flared and went out. Walt, big hands trembling, lit another. This one stayed lit and the kindling caught. As the flames grew, he stoked the blaze. He felt heat begin to penetrate the cave. He stripped and lay down next to Mitch and curled his body around his friend, willing his own warmth into his dying buddy. Gently hugging him, he closed his eyes and growled softly and hummed, tying to get as much of his own fur covered skin in contact with Mitch as possible.

He looked again at Mitch. His skin did feel a bit warmer. He felt his pulse. It was more erratic than it had been, nearly undetectable. He carefully eased Mitch over on one side, put one hand on Mitch's side and with the other tried to ease the splinter out as carefully as possible. It came out surprisingly easily, but was followed with a slow welling of dark blood and an increased bubbling sound. He sniffed carefully at Mitch's wound and then his breath. There was the faint but unmistakable scent of impending death. Mitch was dying. For a moment, Walt stared at his friend, weeping silently. He took a great gulping breath and bellowed. He knew he had no choice, no hope for rescue in time or a miracle. He stood above Mitch naked in the cave. He bent by the fire and reached for the knife and raised it in one hand.

He moved his arm over Mitch's wound, and slashed at his wrist. His own blood, hot and red, spurted and ran down his arm and dripped into Mitch's dark blood covered wound. Walt's flow rapidly slowed, and the cut began to close. He cut again, and once more the bright fluid spurted and ran down onto Mitch. A third slash and more blood. In spite of the fire, it steamed in the cold air. The flow slowed, then stopped altogether. Walt leaned back, tears once again in his eyes. "Forgive me, buddy." He reached out and put a warm paw on Mitch's forehead. "Forgive me, Mitch."

Walt watched the miraculous process he had seen before. The hole in Mitch's side began to close slowly. Walt bent down and began licking the wound clean. He knew the saliva would help sterilize the wound and increase the speed of healing.

He watched the wound close and knew that where his blood had found its way into Mitch, the healing would be as rapid. Mitch's lung would repair soon, and his blood loss would stop; but if he didn't get warm, he could still die. All of it would be for nothing if he didn't get Mitch warm.

He stripped Mitch out of his wet clothing and moved him closer to the fire. It was blazing now. He took the clothes he'd stripped out of and draped them over Mitch. Walt had long since ceased to actually need clothing in all but the most extreme cold. Walt to shifted more deeply into Werebear form, but still short of the full transformation. Half form still allowed for bipedal movement and use of his larger clawed hands. He'd be able to bring back larger logs and tear them apart with his paw-like hands. He looked at the cave, realizing there must be some sort of opening at the other end because it was not filling with smoke. It was a natural chimney.

Out into the snow Walt strode. He'd need to work fast. He looked around, seeing plenty of fallen wood lying round, some of it fairly dry. With ease born of hulking ursine musculature, Walt pitched large branches toward the cave mouth and after about thirty minutes had enough firewood to last through two nights. If Mitch survived through two nights, he'd survive period.

Walt pulled the wood into the cave and shook the snow out of his fur. He walked over to Mitch, knelt down and checked his pulse. It was weak, but still there and Mitch's breathing was steady, if shallow. Some color had returned to his face, but he was still pale and a little blue. Walt looked at the wound; it was gone, completely, as if it had never been. Walt's eyes welled up with tears. "I'm so sorry buddy. I didn't have much choice and it looks like you have none at all because of my choice," Walt whispered.

Walt turned back to the woodpile. He needed the fire to be bigger. He began breaking the wood it into smaller bits, strong claws gripping the wood, rending it down the grain. Walt had also taken the opportunity to throw a few stones into the cave. He'd set them by the fire to use them as heat sources later. He turned from his work and checked on Mitch again. No change, that was good, it meant he'd stabilized.

Walt went back out into the snow, looking for bedding, something to put between the cold ground and Mitch. He knew where he could find some, too. Under some of the branches, he'd seen pine needles mixed with bracken. In three trips, Walt had enough for a small bed about four inches deep. It wasn't a feather bed or fiberglass insulation, but it would have to do. He'd taken as much of the snow off as possible before gathering them up, but there was still some that clung to the stuff. Walt arranged it around the fire far enough and thin enough to dry, but not catch fire. Again, he checked on Mitch; he actually looked better and his breathing seemed a bit stronger. Walt wondered how much of it was wishful thinking and how much was actual perception. He sniffed Mitch's breath. A little blood scent but that was to be expected; his lungs wouldn't reabsorb it for awhile. The best part was that the smell of death had vanished, which meant that Mitch's systems were no longer shutting down. He worried about the persisting bluish cast to his skin, though.

Walt placed Mitch's naked body on his furry belly to keep him warm while the bedding and Mitch's clothes dried. Walt's clothes didn't provide much of a blanket and he curled his furry legs and arms around Mitch. An hour or so later Walt checked the bracken and pine needles. They were dry and ready. They were even warm, which would be good as long as it lasted. They were a bit sticky from sap, but beggars in these situations couldn't be choosers. Walt gathered up the bedding into a thick pad and laid Mitch on it. The bed was between the cave opening and the fire so any wind blowing into the cave would be to Walt's thickly furred back.

Walt knew Mitch had to have his core temp raised soon, before nightfall. He rolled Mitch over on his side, facing him toward the blaze. Walt lifted Mitch's leg and began rubbing his cock head against his puckered hole and was thankful of the penis bone that formed when in this shape. Soon, precum coated Mitch's opening and Walt started pushing into his unconscious friend.

Normally, Walt would never consider taking advantage of an unconscious man, but this was a desperate situation. If Walt could put his very hot cock up inside of Mitch, the warmth would radiate out. Mitch's insides felt cool, not warm; and that worried Walt. He very gently pushed his tip inside Mitch, but even in his unconscious state, Mitch gave a weak moan. Weak or not, Walt took that as a good sign.

Soon, Walt's longer Werebear cock was buried deep inside of Mitch. Mitch's back was firmly against Walt's belly and chest fur. Walt curled around Mitch and drew Mitch into an energy conserving fetal position and then Walt changed completely into his full grizzly bear form. Mitch was completely surrounded by Walt except for small portion facing the fire, which was covered by Walt's clothing. Inside, Walt's growing cock stretched Mitch further and again, there were moans, these stronger but only because the were likely due to pain. Walt cried for the pain he caused his love, but knew this was likely the only way he would survive the night.

Mitch's backside was against a very warm Werebear and his front was facing a large warm fire. Inside, Walt's cock was radiating heat deep within him. Walt could feel warmth returning to Mitch's skin. Walt closed his eyes and concentrated on generating more heat. He'd taken meditation lessons and if a Buddhist monk could dry a wet cloth on his naked back in the Himalayas, he could increase his body heat to warm his love to save his life.

Slowly, Mitch's breathing grew steadier as his skin warmed. The bluish cast slowly, ever so slowly, receded. Walt lay holding Mitch though the afternoon and into evening, dozing. The cold in this form was bringing out a hibernation response in Walt, but it would take several weeks for him to go into full hibernation. Walt would occasionally wake and see that the light had faded a little more. After the third hour of lying with Mitch, Walt felt he was warm enough inside to disengage and did so carefully. He inspected Mitch's hole and saw that it had bled some. Walt spread Mitch's legs and began licking into the hole deeply, cleaning and lubricating it with healing saliva. If there were any tears inside from the growth from half to full bear, the spittle would close them. Walt shifted to half form, piled more wood on the fire, curled around Mitch, and shifted back to full form. This time, he did not enter Mitch, but did pull him into the fetal position and wrapped as much of his bulky form around him as possible. It was seven in the evening, pitch black outside and the snowstorm still howling. All the while Walt had been keeping Mitch from dying, he'd also been considering how he had taken Mitch's humanity from him, had changed him forever and how none of it had been Mitch's choice. His sleep was fitful, marred by concern and troubling dreams.

Early the next morning, with the fire burned low, Walt was woken by the sound of someone coming toward the cave. The howling wind had ceased and all was quiet except he sound of someone plowing through the snow on foot. Quickly he roused, and pressed his nose against Mitch; his temp had improved and he could tell by smell that Mitch was on the mend. He moved toward the cave mouth. He gave a low growl and was answered back by a low growl he recognized. He sniffed; the smell was familiar. It smelled like bear, and human, but very strongly of cigar and a particular kind of cigar. Walt knew that brand very well, had smoked it with someone he loved dearly many times.

Into the cave strode a tall man with a full blond gray beard wearing heavy winter clothing, mirrored sunglasses and a stocking cap covered by a hood. He was, of course, smoking a cigar.

"Boy, you had me scared out of my wits; not so much for you, but for your buddy. Found you by following the smell of smoke. What happened?" The man asked.

By this time, Walt had shifted to half form and was standing. He turned, bent down and scooped Mitch up in his strong furry arms.

"Oh, Papa. He almost died." Walt said.

"Almost??... you mean you saved him, didn't you boy?" The man asked. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, unzipped the clothing and buried his face in Mitch's clothes and began sniffing. Half a minute or so later, he pulled his face out, zipped the clothes back up. He looked Walt square in the eye and gave him a cold penetrating stare.

"I suppose there wasn't any other choice, was there? I can smell the change on him; it's faint yet, but there as sure as the sun. By all that blood I see on his clothes it looks like he had some sort of wound, a bad one. What was it, liver, lungs, spleen?" The blond man said, putting the cigar back in his mouth, rolling it around in his mouth.

"It was his lungs. He's lost a lot of blood, but that should rebuild fairly quickly... now." Walt's eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Yes it will, boy." The man chewed thoughtfully on his cigar. "Can't say as I'm displeased with you. Looks like you did all you could without resorting to transformation and used that as a last resort... and you loved him. I can't fault you for that, but it does complicate things... for me." He drew deeply on his cigar. "Don't worry, Mitch isn't like Eddie, Mitch is a lot like you inside. Eddie was a mistake," he said.

He unzipped his thick parka, revealing that he was dressed in a heavy sweater beneath. "Take this, wrap him up in it. I'll bring back the truck, but you're going to have to carry him. I suggest you get dressed. You'll want to be human when you take him out of here."

The blond man turned to leave and then stopped and turned back and said, "I love you son... I'm sure I'll love my new grandson just as much... even if his disappearance will cause me a headache and a half.

"I love you too, Coach." Walt said.

Coach Franklin chuckled and walked out of the cave, saying he'd be back within the hour.

Chapter 7

When they arrived back at the lodge, Walt took Mitch to the master suite as he and Coach had agreed. Walt easily carried Mitch into the master bedroom and laid him on the huge bed. Mitch had occasionally muttered a few unintelligible things in the short trip from the cave to the lodge. At one point his eyes were wide open, but he was clearly out of it, his body focusing trying to rebuild the lost blood supply.

"What do we do now, Vic?" Walt said turning to Coach who was stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray on the night stand.

"Well, first let's get him out of those clothes and into the shower, get him cleaned up. I'll hold him while you soap him up and clean him. The warm water will also raise his temp some. You saved his life, but I imagine he could do with a boost. After that, he's going to need to get something on his stomach. We'll need to wake him enough to get him to swallow some food. I'll get one of those high protein drinks and mix that. He needs carbs and proteins. He's also probably going to need some water, we need to push the liquids as soon as he's able to drink. Give him water, but be sure it has some electrolytes in it... he'll need minerals. I've got sport drinks; do a ratio of three water to one sport drink. We don't want him to overdose on potassium. His blood volume needs to increase and I don't have any medical equipment here for IV or transfusion but your blood in him will stimulate his system to replenish his blood cells fairly quickly." Vic said.

"You're the boss." Walt said.

"Yeah and you're a new daddy." Vic said.

"That makes you a new granddaddy." Walt said.

"No, that makes me a granddaddy again, I've told you before, I've got a couple of other cubs out there besides you." Vic said and smacked Walt on the butt as he turned to go. "I'll go make the drinks for your cub. I'll be back in a minute."

By the time Walt had Mitch undressed, Vic was back in the room. He quickly stripped as did Walt. The whole process of showering and raising his core temp, took a good hour or so. Mitch became conscious twice and asked what was happening and who the blond guy was. He was reassured that everything was going to be fine, that the blond guy was a friend and that he'd be able to rest soon. Mitch faded out each time and neither Walt nor Vic was sure if he would remember any of what had happened.

After drying everyone off, Vic and Walt carried Mitch to Vic's oversize bed. Walt curled up beside him, kissing him, holding him, listening to his breathing and feeling the strength returning to Mitch's body. Vic placed a thermos each of the protein drink and the sports drink mix on the bedside table.

"Prop him up and try to wake him." Walt propped Mitch up in the bed and after about five minutes of coaxing managed to get Mitch awake enough to swallow a bit of the drink. Vic noticed a couple of times Walt tearing up, wiping his eyes and then continuing the feeding. He knew what was on his cub's mind as surely as if he'd said it; but now was not the time to discuss it. Walt had 'daddy duty' and needed to concentrate on that. It was an hour and a half later that Walt managed to get the last of the drink down Mitch. They both stretched him out in the middle of the bed and the two werebears snuggled up to the weakened but improving man.

"He's going to be better tomorrow. He'll be awake for longer periods of time and will be able to eat more. We can try some oatmeal tomorrow I think. He should have some water and sport drink mix later tonight, probably half the volume of the protein shake." He paused. "I say give him three days and he'll be pretty much back to his old self and then you're going to have to break the news to him." Vic said softly.

"What if..." Walt began and then choked up, "...what if he's like Eddie." There was almost a desperate tone in his voice.

"Walter Lawrence Miller!" Vic growled, "Get hold of yourself!" Vic was using his daddy tone. It usually brought Walt back to his senses, it was also something that would comfort Walt because it said, 'I know best, I'm in charge and it's gonna be all right,' something Walt needed right now.

"This man here isn't Eddie. He's strong. His classmates put him through hell, he's been laughed and stared at since he was in jr. high for how hairy he was. It may have made him a loner, but it made him tough, too." Vic looked closely at Walt. "What was his condition like when you found him yesterday?" he asked.

"Almost dead from cold and blood loss." Mitch said quietly.

"Do you think a weak willed man would have hung on as long as he did? Dying isn't just about what happens to you physically, it's mental and spiritual too. I've seen men wounded on the battlefield who died from less than what this man had and some who lived through worse and the only difference was how determined they were to survive."

"The kid in college you changed through sex, the kid who was so turned on by you when he discovered you in your bear-shape, the kid who said he was excited by what was going to happen to him; he was really frightened deep down by what we are. He was attracted and repulsed and confused all at the same time. He wasn't stable, Walt; and he didn't have the same kind of steel in him that I have, that you have... that Mitch has. He was horrified knowing he was becoming one of us and I don't mean to speak ill of him, but he didn't have the emotional strength to be one of us. We both did what we could, but he took his life Walt, you didn't. Eddie didn't want to live. Maybe it's better to say he didn't want to live enough.

"It was two weeks before his first change and even I didn't see it coming, even I was blinded by the hope that he'd make it and I mourned as much as you did; but the difference, son... is that I let it go." Vic paused and looked deep into his own cub's eyes. "He willingly gave himself to you, even though you told him what would happen before you ever gave him your seed and you, being new to your body, gave in to your passions. It was a mistake, Walt, but you need to let it go."

Vic put a paw on his cub's shoulder. He thought for a moment, and decided that Walt needed some help in how to handle his new duties as a dad to a new cub. "I've never told you how I was changed. It was a very personal thing, something I didn't feel I was ready to tell you even though you've asked. I've told you it was during the Civil War, I've told you it was a werebear named Sam, but I've never told you how. This situation of yours... well, it's very similar to how it happened for me. I think I should tell you now." Vic said.