In the tent
In the tent
By Strega
"You shouldn't sleep with your feet sticking out of the tent," Ann told him, but Jim just shrugged.
"I'm hot," he'd said, and that was the end of that. The sound of the wind in the pines and the burble of the stream lulled them to sleep shortly afterward. Both slept like logs, as was their habit. Neither heard the heavy, shambling pawfalls outside, the wet snuffling. Jim even slept through the sloppy-wet licks as his feet were tasted. Soon thereafter his legs twitched and lifted on their own.
The bear's muzzle appeared through the tent flap. Jim's feet were in its mouth, but not for long; his toes slipped easily into the waiting gullet, and a hungry gulp dispatched his insteps and heels in after. Jim wore nothing but boxer shorts, and his hairy calves slipped easily into the advancing maw. With a yawn and a stretch his knees were consumed; the bear's thick neckfur showing a rolling bulge. Jim slept on.
Two steps forward and his thighs were gone; Jim grumbled in his sleep and slapped at the covers. There were no covers, of course; he lay on top of the sleeping bag but half inside a bear. Widely stretched jaws slipped up to cover his hips, and his hands disappeared into the slippery gullet. Half asleep he tried to pull them back, but the bear was hungry. Another powerful gulp sucked Jim in to the elbows, trapping his arms to his sides.
He was getting hot. That was one thing that he could not sleep through, and sweat beaded on his face and neck. More appeared elsewhere, but it was lost in the thick layer of bear drool that coated almost his entire body now. Lubricating saliva slicked him down for easier swallowing, and the bear's distended jaws slipped up over his shoulders.
Finally he woke, sweating and squirming and confused. "Stupid sleeping bag," he mumbled, and reached up to undo the zipper. He could not move his arms. Jim's eyes went wide as he realized that something was terribly wrong. Jim opened his mouth to shout, to scream.
It was too late. The bear took another step forward, and its yawning maw slipped up to take in Jim's face. A muffled sound of protest, hardly more than a grunt, escaped the closing jaws. Then the bear's muzzle shut, and louder than the grunt were the wet, heavy gulps. The bulge moving through its neckfur jerked, then slipped down into the greater bulk of the bear's body. A bulky bear body became more portly still as Jim was swallowed down.
The bear hardly noticed the struggle in its guts as it settled down to rest. Ann, half out of her own sleeping bag, mumbled a drowsy protest as a furry belly pressed against her back and a thick, hairy arm draped over her shoulders, but she soon quieted back down. Not even a long, guttural belch was enough to fully wake her, and soon the two snuggled together, drifting off to sleep.
A hour later the bear's belly was busily digesting Jim, a task it would be at for several days. A simple pair of boxer shorts was no trouble, and offered no protection for the man's flesh. Though indigestible, there was not enough bulk of fabric to inconvenience the bear in any way. It would make its trip through the bear's intestinal tract along with everything else that used to be Jim.
It was the bear's turn to be half-asleep and yet act. Spooned up against Ann, in contact with her bare back and rump, it pawed clumsily at her breasts. Her bra came away beneath his claws and though the feel of what lay beneath was not what a bear sow would possess, it still felt female. The smell was female, too. Ann was two days into her period and had turned Jim away last night. The bear sniffed, and his paws moved lower. If he'd been alone he would have stroked himself; instead they pushed Ann down onto his growing erection. It slipped in under her panties and suddenly Ann was awake.
"No, honey," she mumbled, but something was different. Jim was much thicker than usual, harder, and as he entered her, much longer. Her hands came to rest on his hands -- much hairier than she remembered -- and she protested feebly.
"You need to trim your nails," she murmured, but Jim just grumbled, and as his hips ground forward she gripped his hands and thrust back to meet him. Sleepily and slowly they made love, Jim exploring her with his suddenly far larger member and Ann whimpering as it stretched her in new ways. Not all fit inside her, and the tip swelled until it dragged reluctantly through her with each thrust and withdrawal.
To the sleepy bear it was almost a dream. Though he felt the woman against him and wrapped around his shaft, in his most aware moments he was sure he would wake with his belly fur stuck together. It would not be the first time. But his paws felt better than ever before on his shaft and he thrust with enthusiasm. Spinal nerves did all the work for both of them; higher brain functions were not strictly required. Many minutes went by, the small tent creaking and changing shape as the two moved together.
They groaned together, and the bear shuddered. Great quantities of watery semen spurted into Ann, far more than any man could produce, and even as she came she knew something was wrong. A trembling hand reached up and felt the muzzle that lay on her shoulder, and her other hand touched the clearly not-human paw that clutched her tight.
Ann smiled, and though the bear was still in her and still gripped her breast she rolled over to face him. His fat belly told her what had happened to Jim, and her fingers traced the bulges that stood out through the fur.
The bear blinked awake. It hadn't been a dream after all. He felt the seed dripping onto his leg as the woman lay half atop him. He'd really had her, not a bear sow or his paws. His grip on her tightened; instinctively he knew he couldn't let her get away to tell what happened.
But instead of screaming and struggling she rolled up on top. His eyes went wide as she impaled herself more deeply that ever he had in his dream. "I didn't like Jim much anyway," she giggled. She guided his forepaws down to her hips, showed him how to help her bounce, then gripped at the bulge that used to be Jim's face and held on tight.
All that night the tent shook. Campers making their way past in the moonlight to reach the outhouse were greeted by sounds of enthusiastic and noisy lovemaking broken only occasionally by snoring. Heads were shaken. "Teenagers," the older campers grumbled.
The next morning the couple's tent was gone. If anyone noted the pawprints mixed with bootprints that led from the site and into the pines, they did not comment.