Werebear Horror Romance: Given to the Bears (Paranormal Horror Fantasy Romance Short Story) (Shapeshifter Fantasy Horror Romance)

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Copyright 2015 by (Brandy Cova) - All rights reserved.

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Given to the Bears

A Horror Romance Fantasy

By: Brandy Cova

Given to the Bears

Part 1

Every night the full moon is in the sky, the blood of the dreaming seeps down into the hearts of those who long for connection with the night. The blood of life permeates the souls of those who love and who operate within a fearless paradigm. The blood lubricates, and restores each passing moment, until consciousness once more breaches the edges of the dreamer’s mind, leaving no shadow cast by the time full awareness has been achieved.

I thought of the blood every time my period would arrive. I became more human, more animal, more spiritual, more emotional along with each moon of my life as a woman.

"What is this mysterious aspect of my existence?" I would ask myself. There is not a common way of perceiving the phenomenon that satiates my curiosity. There is something transcendental about the experience, and the strangest thing about it is that our culture does not recognize the nature of this wild aspect of womankind. Instead of reveling in the challenge and opportunities which are provided by a monthly uterine cleanse, we come from a history of contention, shunning, and even banishment. There is no reason to continue forward under this common perception of life, and so I left everything. I know it is a bit of a drastic conclusion, but I couldn't help myself. I needed to reconnect with nature.

I traveled to the forests north of my homeland, in the wilds of the Alaskan summer. I ate fish raw from the stream, and I bathed naked and unashamed.

Eventually, I came to the realization that isolation would not appease my soul forever, and so when I saw a wisp of smoke rising above the tree-line, passing by yet another bright moon, I decided to investigate; that's when I met Sharn. She was waiting for me outside of her tiny hut. I could smell aromatic wood infusing the air like incense. Her eyes were bright, and golden, there was no door, but a thick and massive bear pelt hung loosely from the frame of her hut. The light from the fire inside occasionally spilled out into the forest clearing, and would highlight the tan thighs of Sharn.

I am an attractive woman, or at least I thought I was, until I saw Sharn. She literally glows from the inside, and it looks like the additional lines on her face, and the grey streaks in her hair are simply expressions of some deep inner fire, which radiates warmth all around her body.

As soon as I arrived, she nodded at me, and gestured that I enter her hut. Not a word was spoken. I paused for a moment out of hesitation for being so quickly welcomed into such a strange place, but the hesitation did not last long; I felt a strange familiarity with this woman. Sharn and myself had a deep connection somewhere within our souls, and though I didn't know exactly what that was at the time, I knew that it was important. I permitted myself to be vulnerable, I pushed aside the pelt, and entered the hut.

Inside, the space was warm, and I was surprised how effective the skin was at insulating the inside air from the outside. I turned around to examine the leather, and then realized that the pelt was not in fact, one animal, but the skins of two massive bears that had been sewn together. I reached my hand out to touch the fur; it felt so good in my hands; coarse and firm. My fingers tingled after making contact, and for a moment, my pupils dilated and a sense of apprehension caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention.

I turned around to take a closer look at the fire, and I lost myself in the scent of the plant material which was being cast off into the air from the hearth. I remember sitting down in front of the fire, breathing the sweet scent of licorice, acacia and passionflower. Then, I remember falling into a dream, while remaining awake. My eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time. I could do nothing but breathe and watch as shapes gathered and dispersed in my vision.

At first, there seemed to be little that I could do in terms of comprehension, but eventually, the visions turned into more productive, or distinct shapes, and emotional content began to be provided in association with each presentation. I watched as an entire tribe of people transformed from humans into bears, and then into stars once afterward. One of the stars fell out of the sky, and landed in my chest. In my mind's eye, my solar plexus was on fire, and my menstruation trickled slowly out onto the earthen floor of Sharn's hut. The fire bathed my skin with comfort and deep release.

When I woke up, it was the middle of the night. A small pool of menstrual blood had formed beneath me, and the fire was reduced to embers. I was hungry, but the hunger was not a strict physical hunger; it was something more. I desired the satisfaction of soulful contact. I could feel the longing for connection within my core.

I looked around and came to a greater understanding of the place where I had fallen asleep. The inside walls of the hut were covered in impressive depictions of strong men, with full erections. Semen dripped from the tip of each penis, and formed into a stream which flowed beneath the figures of each of the eight males. The flow of sperm trailed along the base of the wall, and within it, I counted fourteen women, floating freely along the top of the river of life; occasionally submerged completely in its tide.

Each of the women had light pouring out from their bodies, like some inner fire had stoked their soul, and the luminosity from within them had no choice but to pour out through every orifice. The light transmuted into blood and mixed in interesting patterns with the cream color of the male's semen.

On the far side of the wall, the eight figures had transformed into massive furry creatures, complete with teeth and claws. Amid each of these creatures, was a depiction of one of the fourteen women sexually servicing four of the creatures simultaneously. The art was similar in style to many of the erotic statues of dakinis I had seen in my travels through India. Fear trembled through my heart, and I could feel my vagina flush involuntarily with lubrication. I glanced down.

I had stopped bleeding, and only observed dried blood on my labia. I reached down to touch myself, and discovered my finger slipped easily inside of myself. I pulled my finger out once more and examined it; the digit was covered with a thin, but consistent layer of vaginal fluid, and was spotted with dried blood. I brought my hand to my face, and sniffed my scent. Iron and musk assailed my nostrils. I don't know when I discovered that my own fluids turn me on, but it is the truth. Selectively, I pressed my tongue to the areas of my finger where the dried blood was least concentrated, and permitted the tip of my tongue to bring in the flavors of my own arousal into my olfactory system.

My thighs squirmed, and pressed up against one another. I took a quick glance around the hut, and observed that I was alone. The bearskin door hung solidly and only a dim light from the embers of the fire lit the room. Looking back now, I know that what I did was out of the ordinary for myself, but I was so aroused, and I felt so comfortable, I couldn't help but masturbate.

I pressed my palm down against my body, and pushed it into my abdomen, spreading my legs and scooting my body down towards the slight warmth of the glowing embers. I could feel the heat of the fire, however slight, against my bare, exposed flesh. I spread my skirt up around my abdomen, and removed my sweater so I could pinch my nipples between the fingers of my spare hand. I licked my lips.

"If only I could reach down and lick my own clit," I thought. "I could really use that level of attention right now."

What was left of the fire crackled, seemingly in response to my communicated desire, and I permitted myself to begin rubbing the inside of my vagina with my dominant hand, while rubbing my left breast in circles with the other hand. A moan escaped my lips. I wanted to fuck so badly. No matter how deep I pushed my hand, I couldn't quite relieve the pressure that I felt within my body. In my heightened sensual state, I began to stare at the men depicted in the mural on the side of the hut. The shadows transformed their features, until they were indistinguishable from the massive creatures on the opposing end of the sea of cum.

I visualized that ocean of semen flowing in and out of me, and my vagina began contracting intensely around my two fingers.

"MMmmm, Pussy... please... please..." I moaned.

My sexual cries are not terribly loud, or specific, and are more along the lines of subconscious desires that seep out in the midst of sexual ecstasy. Whether I was moaning for pussy, or as a plea for my own sex to release whatever hidden powers it contained is unclear; but i'm not sure it really matters.

Fervently, I worked my fingers in and out of my body, twisting them occasionally, and pressing hard against the front wall of my vagina. The pressure was exquisite. Without conscious intention, deep guttural groans started to pour out from my diaphragm.

"I love you..." I intoned to no one in particular.

Orgasm crept up on me like an elephant passing through the forest – leaving a trail of splintered nerves, with puddles in its footprint. My eyes were wide and dark, and my pupils took in every last bit of light available in the room. The contractions were repeated, and each pull toward my body made my fingers crush into one another. Had my nervous system not already been on overload, it would have probably been uncomfortable, but at the time, the pressure on my knuckles was my least concern.

I was seeing into another dimension. The creatures from the walls surrounded me in phantasmagoric depictions of sex. I imagined their sperm cascading down to cover me, and as I opened my mouth to catch the phantom fluid, I imagined still another ejaculating inside of me, and one more for each hand. I writhed on the earthen floor of the hut in a pool of my own cum. Steam rose slightly off of the remaining embers as I had actually squirted onto the coals, adding a new intoxicating scent to the air. I nudged my head towards the side, and pressed my cheek up against the coarse fur of a rug. The remaining spasms of my climax passed through my labia, and down my shivering thighs.

The images faded back to their rightful place on the walls, and my consciousness blended into the fur on the rug beneath my body. Gradually, my thoughts expanded into the void beyond the walls of the tiny hut. The orgasm had restored something within me, and I fell into a deep state of sleep. The dark warmth of the room was my blanket.

During my lapse in consciousness, I experienced the most vivid dream experience of my life; it changed the core of my being. I'd like to share the dream with you now:

I walked slowly through a field with tall grains of wheat. The colors of the air were a mixture of amber and crimson, stricken with spasmodic strokes of deep violet and pink. I did not wear any clothes, and my skin was clean, and lightly tanned. It was clear to me that I had not worn any clothes in quite some time. In spite of the awareness, I didn't feel even slightly ashamed of my own nakedness. I felt a sense that I had arrived in a place where these sorts of trivialities were no longer significant. My hair was longer than I remember it being, but the feeling was natural, as though it always had been. I also wore a circlet which wrapped itself perfectly around my skull, balancing on my forehead in a knot that could have only been constructed by magic.

At the far end of the field was a woman, taller than I; her height even more accentuated because of her perched position. She stood on the precipice of the only boulder in the entire field. She had a cape that was green and reflective in whatever light bathed the sea of grain in which I waded. As the wind swept around myself and between my current position and the position of the woman, the grain appeared to be bowing before her. A multitude of heads rose and fell at her feet, splayed on the ground in repeated synchronized prostration.

The woman on the rock raised a hand toward me; beckoning in a single gesture. The command was implicit, and I felt a question rise up within my mind.

"Is this something that I want to do?" I asked myself.

I nodded.

"Yes," I replied to myself, responding to the insecurities of my own willpower.

My feet moved forward by my own volition, toward the formidable figure who had summoned me through the field. The wind spread the grain to either direction, permitting me to pass fluidly from one point to the next. As I passed, the tall reeds of grass would rise up once more to brush against the underside of my butt, and along my thighs; it felt like the field itself was whispering something to my crotch; something that my body understood, but something of which I was not consciously aware. The space closed between the woman and myself, and I found myself standing at the base of the rock, looking up at her majestic form.

There was something regal about her posture. Her shoulders were down and relaxed, and her collar bones were clearly defined. Each breast was firm and directed outward, as though she were nursing the very atmosphere itself. Her abdomen was soft, but definitively muscular. Intonations of her rib cage were present, but her form was not emaciated. A riotous bush of hair erupted from between her legs, and full, muscular thighs descended from two prominent hips. Her feet were firmly planted on the rock, and as the wind buffeted around her, she appeared unshaken.