Bearskin
It is white in the land, and cold. The forest is dark and all the
gentle animals who have not left for the warmer, seductive lands in
the South, are either hiding in caves, or deep under the ground,
where all God-fearing creatures should be. In the villages, the
people stay hidden, too, warm and safe beside their fires, only ever
scurrying out when there is no choice, to find more wood, or perhaps
to creep into the edge of the dark, treacherous forest to hunt for a
morsel of meat to fill their hollow bellies.
It was the boy's turn to do his duty by his Grandfather who lived
alone in the deepest part of the forest, only ventured to in the
Spring and Summer, unless the bitter months drew out, as they were
this long, long Winter. The wind howled around the chimneys as the
boy wound his bear-skin cloak around his lithe and innocent form. He
carefully wrapped the still-warm, freshly baked loaves of bread in
the blood red cloth his mother had given him, and placed the parcel
in his satchel, together with the small cask of wine, essential
foodstuffs to ward off the bitter winter's chill.
Before he began his journey, the boy's mother handed him the long
bladed knife once used for skinning the great Black Bear whose hide
he wore. The boy slipped the knife into its sheath and, embracing
his mother, turned and left the cottage to begin his journey through
the pure white landscape to his Grandfather's house.
The forest became quieter and quieter as he trudged. No sound, not
even his footsteps broke the virginal membrane of silence in his
ears. He had walked for perhaps an hour when he saw the girl. She
came from nowhere. One moment he looked up from the snow in front of
his feet, and she was there. He had noticed no footprints, just the
eternally smooth, white blanket covering the land.
The girl was naked, her jet black hair falling in seductive ripples
the length of her mottled blue and white-skinned back, her body
swaying with the rhythm of her stride as
she walked just ahead of him. As she turned to look at him, he
caught a glimpse of her nipples, erect with the cold. A flood of
emotions rushed through the boy's body. He had never seen a woman
naked before. It never occurred to him how cold she must be as he
felt the heat of desire pumping through his veins. He just knew that
he had to have her, to touch her skin, to caress the hair, to feel
her nakedness against his own young body. He called out to her and
she turned again and smiled. How red were her lips, full of the
promise he had never experienced. She was moving too fast, away from
him, as he broke into a run, realising fleetingly, but not caring,
that the familiar part of the forest was long ago left behind.
At last in a clearing, she stopped and turned to me, opening her
arms, with a welcoming look in her eye. I was entranced with the
beauty of her nakedness, her black hair flowing over the curves of
her breasts, her nipples inviting me to her, the same blood red of
her lips, in contrast to the whiteness of her skin. I drank greedily
of the sight. Before I had taken more than a step towards her, I see
that there other other women here, almost blinding me with their
voluptuous bodies. I long to touch them, to feel and taste them, but
they are always tantalizingly just beyond my reach. At times I am
close enough to smell the muskiness of their bodies, and know that
they desire me just as much as I want them.
In my frantic dance, I notice the bread tumble out from my satchel,
still half wrapped in the blood red cloth. As it lands in the snow,
some of the women break away from the dance, and ripping the cloth,
devour the bread in a frenzy of hunger sated at last. The wine cask
falls too, crashing to the ground, the soft snow breaking its fall,
the stopper bursts forth and the wine bleeds into the pure white
snow, the stain spreading ever outwards.
The first girl is taking my hand, guiding me to the centre of the
clearing. I see nothing now but her perfect body, knowing that I
will soon be fulfilled. I feel hands gently undressing me, caressing
me into a state of full arousal as my Beauty lies on the altar, her
hair flowing down like black water to the snow-covered ground, her
legs long and inviting, her thighs white and firm as she lies willing
me on to lie with her. I am helped on to the altar and can wait no
longer. I cannot even see the women surrounding us, my eyes are
blind to anything but desire.
A knife flashed and a roar filled my ears. The pure skin of the
girl became mottled. Hair - no! Rough fur was growing across her
perfect breasts. Her face was changing, blurring. Her seductive
lips drawn back to reveal drooling teeth and tongue, her tiny nose
thrusting forth into a wet, black snout. The arms around me growing
stronger now, her claws tearing into my back. As I arched my back in
pain and ecstasy the bear-skin cloak which was so carefully taken
from me earlier is once again wrapped around my form. As I reach the
inevitable climax, my seed bursts forth into the willing belly of the
Beauty, I realise I am fusing with a Great Black Bear. Part of my
mind is fighting against this, recoiling in horror, but I know deep
inside myself that I am fulfilling a terrible destiny.
Still, I try to break away. Wildly looking around the clearing, I
see the women have all gone. There is just myself and my terrible
bride.
I raise myself up on my rear legs and roar from the depths of my
soul.
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