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Contract

Bernie watched Liam leave, then sighed with relief. The throbbing in her arm was growing harder and harder to ignore as she cradled her fractured limb for a moment, hoping for the sensation to pass. She couldn't give up now. Not when they were so close to the full picture.

Pain had been a long standing companion in her life, even before her terminal diagnosis from the constant poking and prodding of doctors. Bernie had always been frail, prone to infections and brittle. Her only reprieve was reading and playing video games. Living adventures both glorious and grand in her head from sources both from fact and fiction. That led to her discovering and then living vicariously through Liam's early adventures in urban exploration on his video channel. It's what led to them talking online, becoming friends and closer still. It made her laugh through her clenched teeth that the pain had its upsides.

This weakness still persisted to this day, as evidenced by the fact that her pricked finger from earlier still oozed blood. Bad clotting, undernourished since she vomited anything solid, fainting spells sometimes unrelated to any exertion. Everything about herself sucked and it was dragging everyone she knew down around herself like a sinkhole. It had opened the door to meeting her closest friend, but only allowed her to go so far.

It had been a dream come true to actually join him on this discovery. Yes, on her best days she had joined him in public landmarks for day-trips, but an actual exploration? It was tainted by her injury and their tenuous circumstances besides, she felt a heady dose of relief her research came up trumps.

Was it anything groundbreaking? Probably not, but a little tale about a mysterious berserker, a witch and a village lost to time could be something worth Liam's name in a historical text. For that, Bernie stared at the parchment and let it distract her from her broken arm. A brand new story and a stiff tonic both.

Bernie read it from start to finish, letting the small details filter into her mind as she wrapped her head around the Old Norse on the page, and prepared for a more thorough and analytical read on the second pass, but the last page caught her eye. It wasn't written like the others, and appeared older. The words seemed jittery, as if trying to avoid her notice, but as her arm threatened to distract her with more persistent throbbing, she clenched the page in her other hand tighter. She forced the trembling to stop and stared at the words, then the individual runes, only for a lesser pain to resonate from her thumb. Like a separate heartbeat emitting from where her damaged skin touched the page. In that moment, the writing seemed to fall in line and become clear.

It was like a list of rules, promises and some runic symbols that even Bernie had never seen before. Offerings of strength in times of weakness, life's boon granted inverse to how close one was to deaths door, but at a price?

“Price? No... that's not the word. Hmm.” Bernie squinted at the page some more and shook her head as the sentence blended with one of the obtuse symbols. “Maybe hunger? For light from the sky? Whatever. I sure could go for that boon though.” She set that page aside, and cussed as a small amount of her blood had been pressed into the corner. She sucked her thumb for a few moments to get rid of the excess, and focused on using just using her other fingers to manipulate the pages as she gave them a more thorough read.

Gunnbj?rg had been born on the longboat journey to Britain, but was raised in the Danelaw lands of the north-east. She became the apprentice of a wise-woman of whom had already been in England for some years, yet her village had been sacked by a Celtic war-band. This wise-woman escaped and offered her services in order to join Gunnbj?rg's settlement.

This was where embellishments seem to take hold, with Gunnbj?rg being taught 'mystic arts' and worshipping at the Totem of the Bear. The berserker tomb suddenly made a little more sense with the bones set out in such a specific way. She smugly realised she'd nailed it when she called it a totemic representation.

Appropriately, another name began to appear in Gunnbj?rg's words. Skage. A man of modest talent and prowess though still a trained warrior, and yet when their village disbanded during a time of plague, Gunnbj?rg found herself travelling with him. Seeking a new start, they made their way beyond the Danelaw lands and into Wessex. Travels in which Gunnbj?rg and Skage had a vision. Where warfare and disease had fractured both their lives and those of whom they once cared, they sought a more idyllic setting. A new home.

But it was a land of constant strife and, while his heart was in the right place, Skage was no great warrior, and this drove Gunnbj?rg to find a way to give him the strength she felt he both wanted and needed. Yet as still only an intermediate wise-woman, she had no true idea just yet. So the pair spun tales about Skage. The berserker. The peerless warrior who could fight a hundred men alone. And one day, after still demonstrating he was at least a man of some skill, they soon found themselves integrated into a village of Britons in need of a defender.

Time passed by in peace. The wise-woman helped cure many ailments and settle many disputes. The berserker fought just well enough against talentless braggarts and opportunistic bandits that he seemed insurmountable. They soon led the village and, for a time, life was good. Gunnbj?rg all but stopped in her pursuit of finding true strength. There simply wasn't a need for years. But then the Danish invaded. Once more, Skage wasn't enough, and losses took their toll. In her desperation, the witch dug through her old mentors things and found a contract, which she bound to the totem of the bear. A contract that Skage took, and fought off the interlopers at the loss of his humanity.

Bernie mumbled to herself, “what kind of contract makes you stronger? Maybe a metaphor for an... alliance or something? With some other former foe?” Confused, she looked at the last page once more and it was like the weird symbols had corrupted even the passages she had been able to read before. Bernie tried to make sense of it. The words were there. They were structured in sentences, but they just no longer made sense. The more she stared, the harder it seemed to be to read them.

Her arm throbbed and her vision swam. A coldness washed over her as if the fire simply wasn't there, and the chill that gnawed into her stomach made it clench. She retched and gagged, but was morbidly thankful that she couldn't eat solids. Only it didn't stop as the heaves devolved into a sputtering and weighty, wet cough, but she caught the spittle in her hand.

It wasn't spittle. She knew what it was, but she looked anyway and a wry grin flowed across her thin lips. She already knew it wasn't from the violence of the cough. The metastases of her losing internal battle rearing their ugly head. Blood speckled bile. And something more substantial. Small lumps?

“The fuck..?” she wheezed, wiped her hand on her trouser leg and trembled as she tried to focus on the page again, and managed a gasp akin to a squawk.

The words squirmed, but now as if to steal her attention. A needy child waving its arms in front of a parent distracted by the mundane aspects of their life. They didn't just make sense, they made too much sense.

'You, of whom resides upon deaths door. You, of whom fights for the sake of others regardless of the self. You, of whom-'

A cascade of images flooded her mind. Hills. Blood on her hands? People, seemingly tiny, striking at her with little swords that stung for but a moment but left no lasting harm. Bernie grabbing and ripping them apart, limb by limb. Awash with gore. She stared at the smeared blood on her hand. Warm. Not hers any more, but those of whom sought to harm those she loved. And the strength she needed to protect them.

With a blink, the words faded into a hazy mess once more. Bernie hissed as she tried to continue reading, only to feel a sharp sting in her otherwise numbing broken arm. “What now?” she growled as prickles of sensation scattered through it.

Bernie watched as her arm twitched and spasmed. She yelped in pain, only for the hoarse cough from before to give it a strange, low growling aspect. Bernie groaned and tore at the bandana-tied splint and yanked it off to get a better look at her forearm just as the muscle convulsed and rippled, as if cramping. Her fingernails cracked and splintered, as if the bones in her digits had just grown through them. If she could feel her fingers, she bet that would have hurt. At first she stared in horror, her mouth agape but then, with a deep, visceral pop that vibrated through her whole body, her arm snapped violently back into place.

Finally, she screamed.

* * *

Liam wiped his brow of sweat, with the cold briefly being offset by the difficulty of his labour. The cave-in that had pinned and killed Gunnbj?rg had just been the start, as deeper into the passages revealed both some sort of antechamber. One that had not only collapsed, but mud and silt had solidified into an icy cement. The air was colder here, and the presence of moss and weeds told him there was a way out here, but it was hiding amongst the rubble and displaced soil. He wiped his hands on his shirt and took out his phone.

They had been away from the hospital for three hours, and Liam knew it was no only a matter of time before Bernie's parents would start getting worried, and the inevitable chasing calls about where they had been. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and looked over the footage and pictures he had taken. They had plenty, and any further delay would extend Bernie's suffering. He almost dialled for the emergency services right then and there, but he'd rather do it with Bernie present just in case she had further objections.

The thought of her sent his finger scrolling further back in his photo album. Months ago, to Bernie with her coppery red hair wild and long, her cheeks smooth and rosy and, while still prone to sickness, more full of life than anyone Liam had ever met. Positions lined up at university for studying history, having already attained college degree in creative videography and editing. Most of all, ownership of every beat of his heart. Bernie deserved it all. She was brilliant, and destined for great things. Or... had been.

His knuckles went white as he clutched his phone, and the rawness of fate's draw for Bernie flared hot as it had so many times before. She didn't deserve all this. Why her? The initial diagnosis did nothing to stop her, as treatment went ahead and Bernie blazed a path regardless, with the full support of her family and Liam. They all had such hope she would pull through. After all, after all the misfortune, she had to have some luck, right?

It never emerged. Just stronger and stronger treatment until, finally, she gave up on trying. Bernie went over the stages of grief at lightning speed, until she both accepted her end but threw herself into her current crusade of wild rabbit holes of myths, legends and new fringe discoveries, which now Liam knew was for giving him a better future. A discovery all his own, when it should have been theirs, shared.

The sound of her scream sent him sprinting before he even spared it a thought. It was only when he heard a feral growl halfway back that he even considered a threat. Not the where or why, just the presence. He drew his knife by the time he reached the flooded chamber.

“Bernie!!”

A bestial grumble met him, alongside a shot of fear, yet knowing Bernie could be in danger sent him rushing in heedless of the sounds. The moment he stepped through, he saw a hulking figure of murky pale in the torch and firelight. It stood on thick, muscular legs yet it seemed wobbly in its gait, bashing its head on the ceiling. It was huge! Probably twice his height. It whirled around while sending a huge, black-clawed hand up to its head as it turned and regarded him with eyes that glowed with a white reflection. A bear. A polar bear.

Liam didn't gasp or panic. Nothing sensible or cowardly. Brash and bold. Assess. Plan. Act. He had to save Bernie. He kept his blade pointed at the beast while scanning the area for Bernie, only for the beast to stagger, its plodding footfalls short and unsure, and it raised its forelimbs towards him and opened its mouth. Sharp teeth glistened in the firelight and it loosed garbled, rumbling noises, as if speaking. The bear stumbled toward him and waved its clawed digits toward him, beckoning and reaching.

His eyes shot from the lumbering beast to the room as he circled it, still desperately trying to find his friend. “Bernie!” he called out. “Where are you!? Please...”

The lack of response pushed his fear deeper into his heart, but also a growing fury. He looked at the bear, which seemed confused as it stared at him. As it turned toward the fire, the light revealed it had blue eyes. Intelligent ones. It once more opened its mouth to grumble and utter low roars. It looked at its paws and clenched them. Liam felt a spike of confusion sink in as he weighed his options, Details of the monster didn't make sense, but they weren't relevant. Bernie wasn't here. Had she been eaten? Had she fled? But to where!?

The beast seemed to become intrigued in itself. It looked down and seemed to gasp before covering its chest and groin with its forelimbs and paws or... hands? Its arms pressed against its round, plush and heavy form, yet these forelimbs bulged with the presence of prominent muscles as biceps swelled and cords of brawn raised against the white fur. The bear grew quiet for a moment and just stared at him, then suddenly reached again.

Liam slashed at the offending paw with his knife, slicing the bear through fur and skin with a spray of blood. It grimaced, baring its sharp teeth as it clutched at the wound as oozing red and painted its pale fur a pink shade. Liam dived for the door while it was distracted, but the beast reached after him and snarled as it got caught in the passageway, its huge form being compressed by the narrow gap. Liam bolted as it hissed and gnashed its teeth before, with an enormous show of strength, the rock buckled, cracked and shattered as the bear broke free and fell forward to the ground with a crash that sent ripples across the flooded chamber's surface.

He kept running, with the beast chasing close behind, but as Liam went deeper and deeper through the barrow, the bear was mercifully forced to cram its form down the narrow passage and had to squeeze inch by desperate inch, but now the reality dawned on him: he had no way out besides the collapsed antechamber. He reached it and sheathed his knife, but could hear the scraping, clawing and bestial grunting still making its way down the corridor.

Liam tossed aside rocks and gravelly clumps of icy mud, fingers grazed, cut and stinging. He dug with almost superhuman effort from the adrenaline, but just couldn't make any headway. He glanced back down the corridor just as the beast's odd, hand-like paws gripped the corner and the monster tried to shift itself around for the final approach.

Liam grew frantic in lobbing rocks aside, straining and struggling to lift free ones half-cemented with soil, his then his foot slipped and he fell onto his front, with his ribs bearing the brunt. The impact rolled a stone from the pile, toppling a the stack and trapping his leg in the process, though it narrowly avoided crushing his ankle. Liam stretched and pulled at the blockage, but noticed the beast had managed to squeeze around the corner and was now rapidly gaining on him.

Still winded but in full fight-or-flight, Liam flailed in his escape attempt, but there was nothing for it. Even if he did get loose, the beast was blocking the only passage and he hadn't managed to move even a fraction of the collapsed exit. He pulled his knife again and focused on the monster as its hands gripped the antechamber frame.

“Get back!” he yelled. The beast paused for a moment, its blue eyes locking on his. It looked confused, then seemed to roll its eyes as if in disbelief before baring its teeth as it pulled with all its might to free itself from the narrow passage. Its muscular shoulders popped free first, and it shifted so that it was bracing its arms against the wall for more leverage. With a snarl, its upper body was tugged free.

Focused entirely on the beast, Liam noticed more details. While clearly a polar bear, more than just its hands weren't quite as he'd expected, with long fingers and... definitely a thumb. The way it moved its arms for one thing, with more articulation than he expected a bear to have. Then he noticed its chest, and his eyes widened and jaw slackened.

It had breasts. Big ones. Why did a bear have breasts? Liam's confusion was short lived as its... her muscles flexed as she growled and strained, her pudgy belly squishing against the entry frame. It was hard to call her fat considering the powerful sculpted brawn of her arms, but heavy in her figure. She seemed to stop again, taking long, heavy breaths now that her ribs were out of the cramped tunnel.

“W-what the fuck are you?” Liam demanded, still brandishing his knife. “Get the fuck back!”

The she-beast fidgeted and looked at him again, and its muzzle shifted and moved. Her tongue waggled and brushed against her sharp teeth, lips wriggling and twisting and she uttered more discordant rumbles and growls before it hammered its fist against the stone ground, cracking it and as she huffed and rumbled a few more syllables. “It,” she finally seemed to form. “It... sss... m- mmeee...”

Liam blinked as its deep, rasping voice formed staggered words. “You can talk?”

She pointed a wicked clawed finger at him. “H... himbo.”

“Wha-” Liam's already loose jaw buckled under the disbelief. “B- Bernie!?”

The she-bear growled again and once more wiggled its black lips and dark tongue. “Yeh. B... Bern... ie.” She jutted a clawed thumb at herself.

Liam blinked and stared. He repeated his last words to himself internally as the knife fell from his fingers and the bear... Bernie, now a humongous polar bear woman, resumed trying to pry herself from the tunnel. Finally his repeated internals words started spilling from his mouth. “What the fuck!? No fucking way.”

Bernie dislodged her belly from the gap, leaving her wide hips and huge rear stuck. She wriggled, sending cracks up the stone and a shower of dirt from overhead until, with a final shove, Bernie sighed and crawled fully into the antechamber, pulling her legs free. She remained seated and spun on her backside to face Liam and continued catching her breath. “I tra- transh...” she huffed and scowled, then shrugged. “I ch- changed.”

It didn't sound like her, far too deep and only the faintest edge of femininity in her tone, but he spent more time looking into her eyes. They were unmistakably her oh-so familiar baby-blue tone. Liam thought back on what he saw the last few minutes. The lack of blood or a body in the burial chamber. The beast before him being the only other living thing still here. The pieces finally fell into place. The only problem was the pieces made a whole so large it jammed his brain. He just stared at her eyes, and muzzle, and she awkwardly stared back. Minutes passed before his mind managed to absorb what had just happened. The story seemed to make sense.

The adrenaline waning, Liam now rubbed his brow, trying to get his heart to stop thumping. “Thank fuck... you sound so weird though.”

“Muz... muzzle is annoy... ing,” Bernie said and felt her face. She sighed and looked at Liam, and gasped. “You... hurt?” She carefully reached down and plucked the stone lodging Liam's foot in place, casually flicking it to the side.

He pulled his leg free and nodded. “Yeah, a little scratched and bruised but fine. Just a little weirded out.”

Bernie bared her teeth... smiled? “That says a mouth... ful.” She managed a laugh, then looked down at herself, just as shocked. She ran her hands over her hips and up to her rounded stomach, pinching it and jiggling it with a low chuckle. “Really weird.”

More silence set in for a time. Neither was really sure what to say until Liam snorted. “Look, I know the doctors said you needed to get your weight up, but this might be a bit much.” They shared a laugh and Liam experimentally stood. It hurt, but not too badly. “Wait, what happened to your arm?” He then froze and looked at the knife in his hand. “Oh fuck, I cut you! I'm sorry, I didn't know!”

“Bone p... tsk... popped back,” she said, still struggling with certain intonations. She felt her formerly injured arm and mimicked twisting it. “It went, 'snap', and felt better.” Bernie looked at her hand, and Liam squinted at it as well. Both looked confused as, despite some staining on her fur, there was no cut.

“The hell? I swear...” he looked at the knife again, at the distinct and streaked blood of where he sheathed the blade when fleeing. Outside of the panic, he tutted at himself and mentally noted to clean the inside of the sheath.

Gathering confidence and getting used to her new mouth, Bernie said, “weird... but when my arm snapped back, everything went blurry. I just remember feeling... fluffy, and everything seemed really small.” She patted her stomach again, then felt her shoulders, then her hands slid across the surface of her bust, then made a goofy grin as she stared at her chest and laughed. “Who needs silicone?”

Liam couldn't help but share a look, only his cheeks turned red as he realised, on all the absurdity and bizarre nature of everything currently happening, he was just ogling Bernie's new, unmistakably massive tits, each as big as her head and capped with a partially fur-obscured dark nipple. Turning away and clearing his throat, Liam said, “sorry about cutting you. Are you...uh, not cold at all? H- how do you feel?”

Bernie smiled and waved her hands. “I feel fine. Just... huge? And relax, I get it. Things got chaotic back there and I was all confused and probably scared the crap out of you. I mean, look at me.” She flexed an arm. They both watched in awe at the size of the bicep that swelled with the movement, complete with all the distinct cords over her shoulder, the deltoids, that gave it a rippled texture prominent even through the thick fur. She pumped her arm a few more times. “This is seriously gonna take some getting used to.”

Liam was no bear expert. He's seen enough on television, movies, the internet and even visited a couple of zoos to be familiar, but he knew her proportions were neither human nor ursine. Her legs were longer compared to a bear's stumpier rear limbs, but still way short compared to the average human. Bernie's whole body could only be described as thick yet distinctly feminine, but longer and broader than any human. He thought back to the huge bones in the tomb and realised she was that, plus muscle, plus a healthy layer of fat, further amplified by her thick, dense fur. Really focusing on her plush fuzziness, Liam was surprised to notice it wasn't actually white. In the dim light, it was dark and murky everywhere except the direct beam of Liam's headlamp, as if absorbing it and glowing.

“You know what?” Bernie suddenly said as she continued to study herself. “I take 'feeling fine' back. That doesn't come close to cutting it.” She continued familiarising herself with her new proportions, then took an immense breath through her nose, then exhaled with a deeply contented sigh. “I feel fucking great! Better than great! Healthy. Strong. And... light, for some reason. Like I weigh nothing, but I know I've got to be heavy.” She slowly stood, though did so cautiously while reaching up until her hand brushed against the low ceiling. “I can't describe it... I've never felt this way before. Come here a sec, Liam.”

Even with Bernie slouching, Liam stood and compared his height to hers and he was astounded by the absolute enormity. He stood an even six foot, he worked out and was active, yet he was only eye-level with the top third of the pudge of her belly and Bernie was powerlifter levels of stocky. Her arms were probably as wide as his whole torso and her legs were massively thick. Liam felt beyond tiny. His eyes trailed lower, and he began to see something peeking through the fur between her legs, but stopped himself before outright ogling her privates. He cleared his throat and whispered, “you're bloody big, that's for sure.”

Bernie giggled, although it lacked the coy feminine tone with the lower octaves of her husky voice. “Right? I can't even begin to wrap my head around what's happened to me, but I like it!”

They continued to look at one another for a few moments, and the complicated feelings of everything that had happened began to swirl between them, but Liam shuddered and rubbed his arms. “Okay, I'm getting cold and I somehow doubt you're interested in squeezing back through to the tomb. We need an exit.”

“Yeah, we've definitely been stuck down here for long enough.” Bernie looked at the pile of rubble and then at her wickedly clawed, black-padded hands. “Figure I could probably dig us out and put all this brawn to work.”

Habit almost made Liam insist on helping, to protect her from doing herself harm by pushing herself too hard, but he had to agree. Bernie had all the strength they needed and then some to dig them out. He once more couldn't help but let his mind wander as to the absurdity of this situation. Of how his longest friend, not to mention girl he loved, was now something inhuman, yet still so distinctly her. A girl so physically fragile now physically matched to her always-potent mental fortitude.

Was she still dying? Had the transformation removed the cancer? What would the world even do with a ten foot anthropomorphic bear girl? What the hell would her parents say!?

Liam shook his head and nodded to her. “Sure. I'll go get your things from the berserker site.”

Bernie scratched her chin. “Huh... I can't believe I didn't realise it until now. Berserker. Sure, we expect it to mean some shirtless, angry, axe-wielding warrior, but it literally means 'bear shirt,' or 'person wearing a bear skin.'” She shrugged, or as best she could with the limited space around her head. “I guess Skage was like I am now.”

“I guess that makes sense. But c'mon, enough being a now-literal huge nerd and let's get the hell out of here.”

“And they don't get huger than me, my little himbo,” Bernie said with a snicker as she began flinging the debris aside as if it were sand rather than frozen and dense mud and shale. Rocks as big as Liam could likely lift alone when properly braced were casually flung aside as she settled into a rhythm of scrapes and swings.

Liam returned down the corridor, his eyes wandering along the walls. The claw marks that marred the walls from Bernie's chase. He both couldn't wait to get out of here, but as he settled and had a chance to reflect, he sighed and took out his phone, and took a recording.

“This whole adventure has been... I doubt I have the words for it. I might not even get to upload this, and I expect a lot of changes going forward, one way or another, but I'll do my best to tell the whole story whenever I can. Ultimately it's... complicated.” He stopped talking for a few seconds, then snapped his fingers. “Cut there in case everything goes to shit. Here's the outro, and we'll splice in the full story, or whatever we put together in post.”

He snapped his fingers and waited again, realising the ongoing weirdness of doing his 'job' when everything had just changed forever and that this was just him coping, then he resumed talking. “There you have it! The Weymouth berserker barrow. Thank you for watching, please comment and subscribe, follow the links below to find ways to support the channel, and with luck... see you for the next dive into where others fear to tread! ParanormaLiam, signing off.”

He stopped the recording as he reached the berserker tomb, and took stock of the chamber once more. The fire was beginning to dwindle, but it had served its purpose. Without the assumed threat of Bernie in the room, and knowing what had transpired, the state of the chamber made sense. The shreds and scraps of clothing that Bernie had presumably outgrown during her transformation, as well as her fallen phone which, while scuffed, was thankfully still intact. Liam's jacket had burst off of her as she changed, leaving one shoulder split in two where Bernie must have put it on over her good arm. He then noticed the scattered pages of the witch's journal and collected them.

Liam noticed the contract and the bear totem necklace next. Of all the things that might have transformed Bernie, these had to be the most likely culprits. The contract had a fresh bloodstain upon it and the necklace had been snapped, again probably from Bernie's change since she was wearing it. He couldn't help but realise that they had stumbled upon almost certain proof of magic, unless Bernie's change was somehow a disease she caught from cutting herself on the necklace, like she was now a werebear a thousand years after the original had died.

Would that make it a magical illness? Was she infectious? Could such an illness last that long?

Liam laughed again at the mess this day had become, rubbed his face and brushed back his hair. “Amazing. Both dreams in one day. What are the odds?” Liam bundled the pages and necklace in the remnants of his coat, pocketed Bernie's phone, kicked out the embers of the fire and left the berserker tomb.