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Lives of the Werebears

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Cario

_ _

_ _

John had always been into the adventure-fantasy games, more so with the open-world RPGs where he could get hold of them. And, even though Skyrim had been out for a good few years already, he could not help his infatuation with it, just how much he got into the story and the lore and the world itself, always digging deeper. Modding it, of course, helped keep things interesting, but there was always something more being added and something more to dig into that, frankly, he didn't think that he could honestly ever become truly bored of it.

What he'd been working on lately, however, had been modding for himself, rather than using mods that others had created. It had kept him quite busy, though John's focus had been on the custom-made werewolf – and more importantly werebear – mods that the player could become in the game.

“That looks better…"

He smiled at the screen, a little tight-lipped but

Not bad for someone like him he thought, though it had been easy for him once he had worked out the basics for it. Maybe he did have a career change ahead of him in programming and software, after all, even though John would have much preferred to do games and create things just like Skyrim. They didn't even have to be computer games – they could be on any console, or even the phone. He just wanted to be involved in creating something that would take people away from reality, even if only for a little while.

He'd needed that more than he'd cared to admit when he'd been in school. That was partly why he had designed the humanoid form of the werebears – his custom, personal mods – to be younger, more like eighteen rather than like John in his current late thirties.

“Mm…"

John shook himself off, checking over the mod that he'd made. A tall werebear rotated on the screen before him with a brown muzzle and lighter tan markings around its mealy muzzle and the corners of their eyes. He didn't want to appropriate accidentally, but it was Celtic designs that he had in the back of his mind while he was designing it, the ears a little darker and even managing to make it so that the fur down the back of the werebear was tinted black, like a dorsal stripe. The fur moved softly on the werebear's body as he tested it against different environmental effects, smiling when the fur ruffled and fluttered as if there really was a breeze there.

His model, in a way, was even better than what had been in Skyrim originally.

He yawned, rubbing the back of his neck. The blue eyes of the werebear… They stared back at him from the screen. John frowned, leaning in a little closer. He didn't remember giving the mod blue eyes, not that one, though he had done several by that point, mostly working on giving them different fur lengths and fur colours, along with making sure that the muscle of their bodies showed through. It had been harder than he had imagined to do, though it had been a good mental occupation for him either way.

“Hm…"

He leaned in closer still to the screen, his mid-back aching a little from where he had been sitting in a single position for too long. The werebear creation was muscular, far more muscular than he was, and…handsome too.

Did the werebear just wink at him?

As his eyelids fell closed and he slumped softly over the desk, his body fading, going to another place, another world, another time, John didn't have to worry about that anymore, no. Not as he drifted, every particle of the essence that made up his body seeking out a new home – all within the game that he had spent so many hours on already…

Slipping away, John would find himself precisely where he needed to be.

*

“Ugh…"

He moaned, waking slowly. Why was his body so heavy? It felt as if a lead weight had been dropped onto him, bearing him down and weighing him down, as if something was sitting on his chest and pinning him in place. He groaned, his throat tight and thick, but…something was wrong.

He wasn't sick, no. That was what he would have anticipated if he had gotten the flu or something and been sprawled out in his bed at home. But there was something wrong with where he was, as if he was too warm all over, like a blanket clinging to his body from head to toe. But how could a blanket be lying over him just like that, moulding to every curve and line of his face? Even between his toes too?

A voice rolled over him – not his voice, for it was not from his lips.

“The summoned wakens…"

“Our saviour…"

They murmured, more than one, standing around him, while he came to terms with what had happened, that he was not alone there. Of course, the obvious answer, to John, was that it was a dream, yet it felt clear and vivid to be a dream, even with something rough and hard – stone? – pressing up under his back.

He inhaled slowly. Oh, he could smell so much more! The bite of animal stung his nose, a faint hint of urine – far, far away though, as if he was smelling it from a real latrine that had been set up. There was the charcoal tang of something burning, must and dust, though animal hair… The oils that lined every hair, making the outer layer of fur – yes, he had had to look even that up when he had been researching for his mods and hobbies – had a distinct scent to them, one that he couldn't seem to get out of his nose.

Wait…

_ _

There was something there, something that didn't make sense. Something that John felt like he should have known…

He clenched his hand into a fist, grunting as something bit into the palm of his hand. Yet the stirring of something deep within his core told him that he already knew where he was, nostrils flaring and puckering as concern pulled around his heart, though it was short-lived.

If this is just a dream…

_ _

And yet, not even then, John was not all that sure that he believed that. Not as he opened his eyes, stone walls greeting him, though the room seemed to be quite old, perhaps even underground.

A dungeon. He grunted, swallowing carefully, eyeing up those around him with due caution. They were people, yes…but not really. Not as he had seen before, but like the human forms of the werebears that he had designed: young, strong, muscular. And they were entirely bare too, except for leather straps around their arms. Their hair was a little ragged, but still trimmed back from their faces, somehow managing to give them an air of elegance and refinement, even though John knew who they were.

“You…" He tried to speak, but found that only a growl came out, rumbling, his tongue flatter and wider than he had remembered. “Yourrrrr werrrrrre…berrrrrr…"

Well, he tried to say that he knew they were werebears, though he couldn't talk. And that was the moment in which he looked down at his body, not finding his bare skin there, even though he was naked – but something brighter, something more eye-catching still. For there was darker brown fur coating his body with a spark of a shine, like a wheaty kind of gold. Not thickly set, no, but with a tapered, upside-down V-shaped torso where the narrower point came in slightly more at his hips. He gaped, his shaft hanging out softly against his thigh – yet not even that was the first thing that he could focus on. For his body, that of one of his favourite werebear mods that he had designed.

“You are on the island of Solstheim," one of the men surrounding him said, leaning in closer, for they did not seem to have any fear of him. “You are safe. You are well. You have been summoned to save our race. For the werebears are nearing extinction."

John swallowed hard. Even that was different, the lump in his throat barely shifting, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. Nausea twisted in the pit of his stomach, but he had to hold it back and down. No… No, he couldn't be sick, even as the gleam of his claws caught his eye. Of course, John still had hands – but they were not the kind of hands that could be used to write with, oh no. Not at all, for he never would have even managed to grip a pen with those clawed paws, the claws wickedly hooked and sharp to a fault.

“I… Nnnggghhhh…"

John sat up slowly, though it was the muscular weight and bulk of his new body that made it difficult for him to move, not that he was weak or anything like that. The fur and muscle just seemed to be layered so heavily over him that it would take some getting used to, even his centre of balance off all of a sudden.

“Easy now, son…"

An older werebear with a streak of grey in his hair helped him sit up fully, his head spinning. The dungeon around John came more into focus, the rubble on one side, how one of the brackets holding a burning torch was tilted askew. It was as if it had not been opened up in quite some time, though that was something that John would find out about soon enough, yes, all in good time. There was too much in the “dream" for him to take in right then and there at least, so he had to keep on going forward, moving forward, step by step.

He settled down onto the stone slab where he had been lying. They wanted him for a mission, to save their kind… His head spun. That was too much, so very much. But could he even do it?

Never in a million years would he have thought that his dreams could be that vivid and yet John swore that he could feel the follicles, down to the root, of every hair on his body, how they attached, everything shifting and tickling faintly, though he grew swiftly used to the sensation. There was nothing of consequence there, no, not even as he stretched out his arms and hunched over a little, swaying as he fought to find his balance. He was taller than he had been before too – taller than any normal man or any man that he had known.

Solstheim… And now he was to explore and save it?

Still…something in the pit of his stomach did not fully accept that it was a dream, no. But John pushed that to the back of his mind, a flutter of excitement in his belly tugging his feet – or were they paws now? – into action.

If it was a dream, he was going to enjoy every moment of it!

Outside the dungeon, in the startlingly bright sunshine, the island seemed to be more defined than he remembered it – though that could have been because John was focusing more on the werebears and other characters in the game. It was different when he was right in there, living it. It was a craggy isle, perhaps with about five hundred of the native werebears there, mountainous towards the rear side where the land dropped away in sharp, daunting cliffs to the ocean below. Forest sprawled over the lower slopes, down to the rough, rocky sands at the shore, the trees a mix of coniferous and deciduous, something there for everyone, all to sustain them and keep the werebear natives living peacefully and happily.

They should never have had any worry about not surviving, no…and yet he remembered the mission, even if not the specific name of it. Silverpaw… No… Silverhand Combat? That didn't seem right either, but it at least told him why he had come there, why he was there. And, if he remembered the mission correctly, at least, maybe he could help them out, for he had always been quite taken with the werebears.

It was starting to feel less and less like a dream, though John was not at all as bothered by that as he could have been. Heading out of the dungeon, he was given a loincloth to wear, long and draping to make sure that he was comfortably covered, as the other werebears in human form did the same. They were a little shorter than him in werebear form, however, even though John had not fully straightened his back, not yet, for fear of toppling over with the sense of unsteadiness that came through him. There were many other werebears around the village that they travelled down to, their homes build out of stone and wood and thatched too, all to keep out the damp. One of the werebears who had accompanied him down told him that they used a kind of oily sealant to make sure that the buildings were watertight and would not let in the damp.

What surprised him, however, was that the werebears there mostly used their human forms. He would have always been a werebear, muscular and bulky, sleek and powerful, if he had had the choice, though he shook his head curiously. No one there was naked, all wearing loincloths or some manner of simple clothing, which was a relief considering the younger ones that were around. Even if nudity didn't have to be sexual in any way, of course, it made him more comfortable. And those little bits of comfort were things that John was going to need very, very much.

“How do I…transform?" He said, taking the words slowly, for it was still hard to work that tongue around his body, wanting to growl, more naturally, rather than dip into the nuances of talking. “Into…man…again?"

The man smiled, his dark eyes intense.

“Ah – yes… You feel it…in here," he said, placing his hand on his chest. “Think of your body, your form, and let the shift happen. It is intrinsic to a werebear and I am sure the same will be true for you."

And it was. It was the easiest thing in the world, though his human form was not as he had expected. It was as he had created, roughly three feet shorter than his werebear form at just over six feet in height and rippling with muscle. Oh, the strength! It was even more obvious as his fur shifted fluidly to human skin again, smoothing down his body as if he was being stroked all over by a thousand tiny fingers. He took a deep breath, admiring, briefly, the broadness of his chest, how much stronger he was. He hadn't even looked that good when he had been eighteen! But the gold tint to his brown fur played a part in his hair too as the blonde took over, reaching down behind his ears as it grew, golden like wheat with an orange hint to the back, near the tips.

His eyes, of course, would be bright blue. Like the eyes of the werebear on the screen when he had started feeling odd, back in his bedroom.

One thing was clear and that was that it was very much not a dream, oh no. Even if he was in a human form then, grabbing for his loincloth, which had been larger to cover up his bigger hips too, he was still a werebear, everything that he had ever imagined coming true.

His new friends, and family too, laughed softly as he covered his modesty with his loincloth, which had been designed for the larger werebear bodies and not the smaller, though still powerful, human ones. There would be more for him, they said, when he had settled into his home. It had all been set up for him while he prepared for the mission.

They greeted him softly, with smiles and waves, a gentler, kinder people than perhaps John could have imagined. But anyone would have thought that a were of any kind would have been rough and savage, he was sure: he was there to learn that they were far from that, one of them now, and one that would be forever destined to turn the path of their fates around.

He would not see them go extinct.

John, however, had more to get used to with his werebear body as he was settled down in his new home for the night. He had simple things in there, a bed and a rug and a fireplace too, simple home comforts that the werebears seemed to be collecting and crafting for themselves. He didn't think that he would honestly need the fire with all the fur covering his body, though the bear did take the chance to explore his body in the privacy of his abode.

It was funny, however, that they had had such experience with werebears, or perhaps others entirely, appearing from nowhere in their summoning rituals that no one seemed at all concerned about him just existing there, as a werebear, where there had been no John before. Maybe that was what made it so easy for him to slip into the rhythm of his new life there.

He did not have a mirror in there, so he explored his body with his clawed hands, shifting back with a thought into his werebear form. That was itchier, though the nipping sensation passed as soon as he shifted his weight and took a full breath, his great lungs expanding more and more. His chest as a werebear was broader still and he was glad of the high roof in there, for it would have been uncomfortable if he had had to hunch over to avoid knocking his head on the ceiling.

“Unff… This…is…"

It was a bit easier to talk like that and he spent a moment working his tongue around his mouth, trying to get used to the new feel in his maw. His sharp teeth greeted him, but his tongue instinctively knew how to avoid the sharp points, more fangs than teeth. And there were no molars or incisors in there, not at all, the canines lining his jaw with the intention of cracking bone and ripping meat free in great chunks. The appetite of a werebear, after all, had to be as mighty as their form, ensuring that they got in all the sustenance to their bodies that they needed.

He turned, running his clawed hands down his body, surprised at the dexterity in the defined fingers. His claws raked through his dark brown fur and John let out a little murmur of appreciation at the muscle. It was easier to move now that he had accepted the fresh weight on his body, but he had to take care of the huge claws. Each was the size of a knife, like what he may have once used in the kitchen, and, with the light of an oil-burning lamp to help him, he caught what was an orange hint to his fur, the shine glossy and sleek.

“Mm…"

He shouldn't have made a noise like that, not when he was inspecting his werebear body. He turned around again, trying to look down at his backside, shoving the loincloth out of the way. Yes, that was only going to get in the way, even though he understood the reasoning for it. There was thicker fur around his crotch than he had realised and, although his cock had been soft and exposed when he had transformed, it had retreated into a small sheath, which meant that he could go without the loincloth without actually exposing himself, if he so chose. John shook his head, trying to purse his lips but finding that his muzzle did not allow him to form the motion anymore.

“Heh…"

That was kind of funny.

He explored his silky fur, parting it lightly to see the richer orange base of the hair, the softer layer of fur underneath the waterproof top coat. Even that was amazing as he carefully stretched up to his full height of nine feet, arms above his head. It was tricky to balance like that, but it was getting easier and easier, thankfully, shifting his weight from side to side, his tail thick and short. It was not quite as stubby as that of a natural bear, but suited his form perfectly. He licked his lips, sliding his tongue over them, feeling how the saliva lingered for a moment before evaporating.

Even if he was in his home and not out there, exploring the limits of his strength, he could sense how strong it was. It was even more evident after he had shifted between forms, power rippling through him, so heavy and fitted with functional muscle.

It was everything that he had wanted the werebears to be when he'd been designing his mods – but better, yes, so much better. He couldn't stop turning around, finding a new muscular heft to his buttocks, rubbing the base of his sheath as he explored his body. He wouldn't have minded either if his soft cock had been hanging out too, for it would still have been as he wanted to be, exposed and wonderful and just the way he was meant to be.

His legs were thick and round, his thighs like tree trunks, though they tapered down nicely to his knee too, the quads as strong as he liked. His backside was wider, to match his hips, yet it was the glutes that rippled with both muscle and glossy fur, his balls swinging gently in the thick swathe of fur around his crotch and between his legs. They would have been pretty hard to hide, now that he was able to take a closer look at just how they swung back and forth between his legs, glad of the loincloth when he was in public. He wouldn't have minded at all being naked around those that wanted the same as him, however, but John would have to first learn the ways and customs of the werebears, if he was to help them too.

Turning his hand-paws over, he curled his fingers, inspecting the soft, flesh pads there. Those were different, not a dog-like shape but that bear-like shape with a fatter pad around the palm and the heel of his hand. The pads separated on his fingers, allowing him easy dexterity, every one a striking black to stand out against his white, razor-sharp claws.

He stroked his sheath lightly. Maybe it was right that he had come there, though he did not press further with his physicality that night, still getting used to the weight of his new body settling around him, getting used to his new form and skin. He exhaled softly, lips twitching into a smile, though John didn't want to change back into a human body. No… No, he had waited too long, even though he rather liked the form that he had for that side of him too. He would most likely be one of the odd ones out staying in his werebear form more than others, but that didn't matter. As long as he was comfortable and happy and helped the werebears, there was nothing else for him to consider.

He had a purpose…and surely more erotic pleasures to come.

Rumbling a soft growl, John licked his lips and settled down in his bed for the night, the stuffed mattress bowing lightly under his weight.

*

No one bothered him that night but, the next day, she came. She had to be the same age as him, at least in his werebear form and body, eighteen or nineteen, though she greeted him outside his home as if he had been expecting him. Her long, blonde hair, lighter than his even when he was in his human form, hung down past her shoulders, though appeared to be neatly trimmed. He wondered, briefly, just how they managed to do that, considering that he had not yet seen the werebears using any tools. Of course, they must have used tools, though they were a quiet, peaceful island at that time, or so it seemed, for they had built the homes and more at the very least.

“Good morrow, friend," she said, her violet eyes dancing with glee, a quirk to her lips that promised trouble. “My father has invited you to the gathering, the leader of the werebear pack. But I thought that you may like to fill your belly some first. The summoned are often ravenous."

He should not have stared, yet he did, even as he ate. He had to, admiring her form. In their privacy, she adjusted her clothes, seeing nothing wrong with it, maybe, for it was just nudity with nothing more attached to it. It would have been hard, even if he had not caught a glimpse of nipple, to not see her for the beauty that she was. Her backside was round and thick – the kind of butt that was almost bubble-like – and framed her strong body wonderfully, her arms all thick with muscle, from the shoulder to the forearm, though she retained a distinctly feminine charm.

What Johnathan did not know was that Emira, the leader's daughter, had already set her sights on him. As their chosen, summoned hero, he was the one that she needed, the one that she wanted to take for her own. She studied him too, how his tongue swiped over his dark lips to get up every scrap of juice from the cooked meat that she had brought for him on a platter, though Emira's hunger only grew the more she watched him.

They went to the gathering together and John got to see her transform, fluidly, into her werebear form. And she was even more beautiful like that, though he saw grace in her movement, a deadly aura, that attracted him too. It made him want to know more about her, to learn about her life and to listen to her talk… Yet only time would tell whether a friendship, or even something more, could come between them, John was sure.

Still, that did not mean that he could not admire the soft, silver-grey fur on her body, how it shone with a light blue tint all the way through, so that the eye was kept guessing, darting over her as if to take everything in. She wore a skirt wrapped around her hips that drew higher up her legs as she walked as a werebear than as a woman, exposing more of her strong thighs. Her wide hips caught his eye and he could only imagine the sexy muscle of her furred backside under there, his sheath plumping up a little with need as he thought of what lay hidden.

Yet public nudity, where accepted, was of no concern to the werebears, even to Emira, and he caught the briefest of glimpses of her pussy too, the soft mound tucked between her thighs and the outer edges of the folds still graced with that silvery-blue fur.

She's gorgeous…

_ _

Anyone would have said so, yet he scurried after her, practically tripping over his own feet as he tried his best to avoid falling on his arse in front of her. What was wrong with him? What was it about this werebear, more than any other, that had him stammering and struggling?

“I – uh…" He tried to find the words. “You… Where is the gathering? Is that a big event?"

Emira smiled, slowing so that he could catch up with her.

“Of course, it's where all the werebears come together on the island to speak and to meet, to go over issues of the time," she explained. “It is a time for everyone to catch up on news from outside and, this time, to welcome you."

He grunted and blushed – at least, he thought he did. He felt the heat on his cheeks, tingling down his neck, though was glad that Emira could not see. She was only the first woman werebear that he had met there, but, really…he wanted to see more of her. Maybe things would come between them?

Little did he know that she already wanted him for herself, that even her father had accepted her wish to have the new hero be her mate. Werebears were a decisive sort, telling much of what they needed to know of a partner from their scent and the pheromones that their bodies exuded in response to a potential mate.

He would learn that all too, in time. Experience could only be gained through time, after all.

He shook his head, a little intimidated by the world around him, the cluster of werebears, the pit that was staged and tiered with so much seating that everyone could have somewhere to sit. It was as if the pit descended into the side of the mountain itself, crags rising above, birds of prey roosting high up where they would not be disturbed or harassed by smaller, more nimble predators.

“Wow…" He exhaled. “This is…a lot."

“You'll grow used to it," she said, nudging him down, guiding him down the centre path, through the seating, to the flat plateau at the very bottom. “Come now, my father is waiting. And I…"

And then a bellowing roar, enough to shake the foundations of the mountain they were on even with the age-old rock wearing solidly under their claws, cut through the air. Instinctively, John hunkered down slightly, baring his fangs, ropes of saliva lightly strung out between his top and bottom jaw.

An enemy! But where?

A light tan werebear who was even more muscular than him stood tall, others clearing a space for him as he met the leader, Emira and John right down at the bottom of the pit. He swung out a clawed hand defiantly and John bristled.

“Who are you to challenge me?" He snapped, showing his fangs. “I have only just come here – and to help too!"

Maybe that was thinking a little much of himself, but it was of no consequence. For the other strong, young male had another reason for challenging him, posturing, showing off his fangs and his claws alike.

“You are no hero…" He snarled, dipping his muzzle threateningly, the sides of his snout wrinkled with derision. “And you… You will lose to me! You will not take Emira from me!"

Emira grunted, shaking her head, fingers hooked slightly as if she was ready to use her claws.

“I choose my own mate, Azul," she growled, the sound ripping from her throat as if it was a fact she had stated, to this particular male, many times before. “I choose John, if he will have me. You don't get to claim me when I don't want to be claimed by you!"

Azul snarled, slamming a clawed fist into the ground. The stone cracked under his power, though the werebear did not seem fazed at all by the rippling cracks spreading out, not as if it had even bothered him. John swallowed hard, head reeling from all the new information, yet it did not seem that he had a choice in the matter.

Not when it came to fighting… For he didn't want to see anyone taken against their will, no, not with every adult member of the werebear island seating above, snarling and grunting, pounding their fists on the stone steps in a drumming beat.

“Fight… Fight… Fight… Mate… Mate… Mate… Fight… Fight… Fight…"

They were not urging them on out of any sense of bloodlust, but to see the best of the best come out on top. John nodded and raised his chin defiantly, following Azul's lead by stripping off his loincloth, so that they were both nude but for their fur.

“I accept your challenge!"

It was not what he had expected to be doing there as a werebear, but maybe he could see where things went with Emira if he fought, if he let her continue her life and choose her mate exactly the way she wanted to.

And it was time to show what his new form could, facing off against Azul with his teeth bared, he knew that it was a test. To see if he was capable of completing his quest, to save the werebears. And he was going to do his best to see everything through to the bitter end.

The leader stood tall, observing the fight. And then they were set upon one another, Azul coming for John with the force of a raging avalanche tearing down the mountainside, boulders tumbling and smashing. It was all John could do to get out of the way in time, wheeling around and snapping with his jaws. They clicked closed on nothing, yet the corner of his jaw still ached from the force of his bite. If that had come down on an arm, he would have broken the bone, at the very least.

“Stand still, coward!" Azul hissed. “She is mine!"

Yet that was Azul's lesson to learn too. For the werebears were never about forcing anyone to mate with another, no. It was always the choice of the individual and, even if Azul had tried to force the issue, there would always have been another werebear there willing to stop it, to put him in his place and ensure he had no right to force anyone to do anything they were not willing to do.

They roared and they bellowed, spittle flying, slashing and grabbing, Azul opening up a thin line on John's shoulder while John scored a bite to his leg. He gnashed his jaws, the two of them fighting like animals, the scent of sweat and musk tangling with the metallic bite of blood in the air. Emira crouched on all fours, nearby but unable to do anything, watching the battle rage, though her eyes were only for Jonathan.

John roared as his stomach was struck, blood splattering the stone hotly, the roars around him suddenly sounding dim as if coming from a great distance away. Though he had to fight, had to press on, his body healing rapidly, closing up any wounds that were made. The regenerate healing factor…yes! Of course, Azul had it too, but the washing away of pain bolstered him, letting the power of a true werebear flow through his veins. Lycanthropy ran in their blood and it was their due to let it run!

Azul, however, had more to lose than John. And that made him careless. Careless enough to miss John as he slammed into his side, the tan werebear knocked flying, Jonathan pressing the attack. He snarled, lips peeling back from his sharp teeth, revelling in his werebear form, the aching pound of his muscles, his heart working to force blood all around his body, need pumping up thick and full.

Pinned Azul, holding his hind legs down with his clawed feet, digging them in to stop the other werebear from fighting back at all, he held him there, a clawed hand around his throat. Heaving and panting, they stayed there, frozen as if for all time, until the leader roared, letting his verdict be heard.

“We have a victor!"

John exhaled and backed off, though Azul glared at him and slunk away into the ground of werebears to lick his emotional wounds. Yes, he had wanted Emira, very much, yet the impure of heart would never win in the pit, for the lycan blood running through their veins was as infectious as it was righteous.

Emira came for him, embracing him as the last of his wounds healed, leaving John as strong and as virile a he had been before. He had not realised that his length had slipped from his sheath when he had pinned Azul, but her hand grasped him, stroking his shaft with a firm, demanding grip.

“If you'll have me," she growled, eyes alight with need, “then I will have you! Father? Marry us!"

The leader bowed his head, shaking his head at his daughter, her forwardness. Ah, but Emira had never been one to control, no, a wildfire all on her own. John tried to hide his erection, turning away, though his nostrils pulled and puckered, drinking in greedy gasps of her scent. Anyone that had a nose, of course, could smell just how wet Emira was, how much her need coursed through the pit.

The gathering, once again, had turned into something very different indeed.

“I… Uh…" Jonathan struggled to find words, Emira waiting on him. “I… It's too soon! I…"

Emira nuzzled him happily, though did not press the issue, as much as her arousal already flooded the air. With a low grunt, he licked his lips, his willpower fading more and more as her figure, so curvy and feminine with strength finely tuning her form, pressed up against him. He gulped and tried to say something again, shifting back to his human form. The transformations would come quickly as his need grew and grew, after all…

“What do you mean.." He tried again. “Married? Us? If I…"

“If you will it too," the leader said, bowing his head graciously. “The rules of our species allow it, as my daughter approves of you, as do I. Many males have tried, and failed, to win her heart, not solely the challenger today. She has chosen you, if you will take her too. But, be warned – I want plenty of grand-cubs!"

The leader grinned, shifting to his human form too. Many of the werebears, in human and full werebear form, were naked around them, the seating filled with pairs clustering together, some even in small groups.

John shook his head. It was all so confusing… Yes, sure, he wanted to get to know Emira but his body ached for her too, shifting to werebear form again, showing off his prowess in managing that change, strength flowing through him all over again as a nervous smile pulled at his lips.

He was their hero… And he so very sorely wanted to live up to that. What did he really want? He closed his eyes, listening to his heart.

“…Yes."

The werebears cheered, bellowing and thumping the ground, what little clothing they wore and had to call their own tossed away. But it did not matter, no, not at all, not in the slightest, not as he leaned into what his heart told him to do. He could never have imagined mating with the clan leader's daughter, the sweet, daring Emira, though he would come to know the werebear intimately on many levels in the many years to come that they would have together. After he had saved every last one of the werebears from their fate…

Right there…he allowed her to come in closer to him, his shaft growing, swelling up thickly now that he didn't have to hold it back at all. Thick and fleshy and pink, it came with a slightly tapered tip, a bear's cock – not a human one. He would always prefer his werebear form and he was grateful for Emira joining her in her bear form too, though her human one…

Oh, he would adore that another time. Her, everything about her… For there was to be no more holding back for him as he drew her up against him and kissed her passionately, groping her breasts with care, his large claws sliding harmlessly over her smooth, silvery fur.

“Mmmm, yes…" Emira moaned. “My mate… Take me!"

They dropped to the ground, the stone plateau strong enough to hold them, even with all the muscle rippling through their bodies. He nuzzled down her neck and chest, his tongue pushing her wraparound top out of the way, licking at her nipples. His pink tongue curled and flicked around them, exploring her body, though that first time between them was going to be swift and frenzied, bearing every moment of the true nature of the werebears in their hearts.

His balls ached, pumping hormones into his system, his bloodstream. That would be something that he came to understand in time, even as Emira wrapped her clawed hand around him, stroking his cock up and down.

He was ready for her, even though things were moving so quickly, the bellows and roars of the crowd driving them on. He rocked over her, his strong, powerful body aching with lust. It was easier when he let go of his humanity, for he was a werebear, so much more than he ever could have been as a man, Emira presenting herself to him.

He would have spent time down between her legs, devouring the sweet heat of her pussy – yet desire thrust him on, her moans for him, begging him to take her, to claim her. The werebear woman would claim him too even as he moved over her, pressing his chest lovingly to her back, his cock finally finding the heat of her pussy and sinking deep.

There was no going back as they joined in lust, thrusting deeply, though Emira dictated the pace. The werebear howled and clawed at the stone, rocking her hips back demandingly, craving more and lusting for it. She did not ask for it but expected everything, sexually, that she longed for to be given to her. It was just as well that she had a very willing partner, grinding his thick length into the wetness of her pussy, her arousal coating his shaft in a slick sheen.

He ran his clawed hands over her, feeling the strength of the muscle in her shoulders, drawing back a little, his hands sliding down lovingly to her hips. He just couldn't keep his hands off her, even as the other werebears cheered for them, snarling and growling, even his tail twitching as he filled his mate for the first time. She was perfect in every way and, already, even though it was a swift liaison, he couldn't imagine ever turning down Emira, not when she had been so bold and so forward, so savage in her desire for him.

What more would John learn about Emira in all their time together? Oh, he couldn't wait to find out!

He grunted, powering into her, though his partner had something else in mind.

“My turn…"

She rolled away from him, his cock sliding from him as, in perfect tandem, both werebears shifted to their human forms and he got to slide his hands down and around her thick buttocks as she pushed him roughly onto his back. Emira could take control over him just as well, her hot pussy reclaiming his shaft as she sank onto him with a low moan.

“Mmmmm… Yesssss…"

There were no taboos to be had amongst the werebears, no need to hold back in the slightest. Emira smirked down at him, her lips showing a little more familiar expression than that of her werebear form, hair falling down her back in a smooth, flowing waterfall. Her hips rose and bucked, grinding onto him, the werebears solely wrapped up in their mounting pleasure.

For there was no better focus in the world to be had other than one another, lost in the moment, grunting, groaning, still bestial and raw in the heat of the moment. John groaned long and low, his human form so much stronger and younger than the body that he had borne the last time he had had sex. Yes, it was much better like that, her pussy clenching around him, rippling, pulling, demonstrating a shocking kind of control over her body.

He didn't even think that he had that much control over his body. Just how much could Emira do in sex?

“Mmm… Oh… So good…"

That was about all that he could get out, close to the edge, tingling there, though he pressed on her hips, holding her back for a moment. He wanted to cum in his werebear form and, somehow, Emira knew that too. It was as if there was a connection between them, the woman reading his mind as she pulled off his cock, only to nuzzle softly into him, her tongue flicking out against the base of his shaft.

“Mmmmm…"

She lapped up the length of his cock, running her tongue to the tip and engulfing him in her mouth. Transforming back to her werebear form, she sucked on him, blood roaring in her ears, the crowd egging her on. She needed him, her mate, so much… Yet his cum would give her one thing while the closeness of his body and his soul provided the intimacy that Emira had longed for too.

That was why she had not been able to find a mate before. No one had ever given her the sense that John had. And that was exactly why John had changed everything for her.

She sucked on him, his cock transforming within her mouth, filling out her maw nicely, though she was still careful of her teeth, tenderly drawing her tongue around the head of his cock. Yet their passion was not of the kind that could be satisfied with a mere blowjob, arousal tangling, as much a part of one of them as it was a part of the other.

That was how, finally, they ended up on the ground, flat out, Emira on her back with her powerful new mate slamming into her with a mating press. His strong thighs pinned her down to the ground as he spread her legs for him, dominating her, showing her what the true might and lust of a werebear was, just a little bit more of what he could do for her.

“Ah… Yes… Mmmph… My mate!"

She cried out, orgasm finally tearing through her, rocking her hips up the marginal fraction that she could to meet the strokes of John's cock. Her mate ground in with long, deep strokes, using every inch of his breeding spire, though only time would tell if, truly, they would have a whole hoard of little werebear cubs running around, as the clan leader wanted.

He wouldn't mind that, no, not at all. To be a family werebear, a father, lusting and longing, caring for his family and his mate.

He growled passionately, kissing her deeply, his tongue swiping up against hers. It was their version of a kiss in werebear form, panting heavily, grunting into one another's muzzles, his hips working faster and harder, bringing himself over the edge too.

The clan leader roared, triumphing over their mateship, as he spent himself inside her. they were surrounded and yet the moment was only for them, close and warm, their fur lightly damp and matted for sweat, which only added to the dark musk of their aroma, wrapping and winding around the werebears. The pit resonated with them, his cock driven deep, panting and sharing breath with Emira as she leaned into him, allowing him to take her – trusting her mate in a way that she had most certainly never trusted any male before.

He did not yet know how different he was to her, how important he was to her. But he would, in time, yes, for she would tell him every single day, mating over and over again, even as her belly swelled with the evidence of their lust and their tryst, their undying love.

“Mmmm…"

He nuzzled into her neck, slowly taking in her scent, allowing a softer, sweeter moment between them. He had not expected to have a gorgeous new wife by the end of that day, but more would come, yes. She cupped his muzzle in her hands, transforming to human while he remained as a werebear, though his cock still fit inside her pussy perfectly, the two of them made for one another.

Together, they would overcome anything. And he would save the werebears, perhaps even leave the island and show them how to expand across the waters further than they had gone before. He had more for them, ways to protect them, licking his lips, nuzzling into her, the warmth from Emira's body sinking into him.

Living as a werebear was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

And John was never going back.