[The following screenshots of Stephen Lee are from Robocop 2. Yes, this is a BearFic. And, yes, it is very pathetic. But the photos look so lonely by themselves that I just gotta do a bit of an ad-libbed fiction…]
Insert Dirty Title Here
-Stephen Lee BearFic-
Okay, so I’m a dirty cop. Sue me. Find me a clean one, and I’ll know yer lyin’. Ain’t no clean cops around here no more. Even the laundromats use coke as detergents in this forsaken city.
And so what if I shoot concentrated Seduction7? Got nothing to be happy for in this goddamn hellhole. Plus, everyone’s doing it. And it don’t matter that I’m wearing a pig uniform. I always get the best seat in the strip joints. Not to mention unlimited lap dances. Just one of them perks but it’s nothing compared to the shit that goes on in this town.
You know how bad this city’s become? Listen, we gots robots doing our jobs for us. You believe that? Robots. I don’t know who’s crazier — me or the loony dumbasses who thought this one up. These robots… I don’t like ’em. They really fucking do their jobs……
I was just at the arcades playing “Ikari Warriors” ™ when one of them freaking robot grabbed my neck. He saw me buy some S7 from some punk kid of this district’s local gang. Shoulda been more careful. They got them supersonic vision shit. Shit!
Sonovabitch. Damn freak almost cracked my ribcage. Whoever the hell programmed this bastard is one sick fuck. I feel like some lardass elephant sat on my chest.
What did he think? I’m gonna tell him? I know my rights, I — oof!…..
“Okay okay okay….. Lester Freeman. I got the drugs from Lester Freeman. Freaking drugs behind that “Ikari Warriors” ™. Thought you got some superhuman vision assho — OW!”
Damn metalhead’s gonna kill me. And, aw. shit, Lester’s goons gonna get me too…..
It’s funny how the pigs get a handful of free passes from these robots. Either the slammer’s filled or they’re running out of recruits. For God’s sakes, that’s the least of my worries. I’m a dead man.
Well, it’s gotta end sooner or later. So here I am in some cliched deserted building. I remember being gagged while I was on my way to the hospital. I knew it was Lester’s goons…..
Ironic that on my final moments, I’m wrapped around with clean sheets. Jezus, clean freakin’ sheets. Guess I deserve this.
I just hope that this goofy doc’s scalpel does its job freaking quick…..
* * * * *
“…and in other news, notorious gang leader, Lester Freeman, was found dead four days ago from lethal poisoning. Sources are unclear as to how Freeman and thirty-three other people, currently being associated with Freeman’s Double Dragon Gang, died from what forensics have been referring to a ‘mysterious airborne toxin.’ Channel 1990 will keep you up-to-date with any latest update on this news as it unfolds… Now here’s a word from our sponsor…
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Jesus, so Lester’s human after all. Good night, sweet prick.
Well, not a big loss anyway. There are more rival gangs here than I could care to count. Ah, speaking of which, time to enjoy some of this sweet, sweet S7, thanks to that Brazilian bonehead, Reinaldo.
This is quite possibly my most uncreative post title ever. And with that, here’s a haiku in seven parts…
Big bear is shirtless
Beeper, beer, tattoos, and fur
One-fourth of man’s head
Ruining this perfect pic
Can’t even get head
Shirtless, goateed bear
Staring at man’s one-fourth head
Says “No” to BJ
Arm with bear tattoos
A gecko crawls on his chest
Kneeling man, blue balls
Why can’t I get head
Snakeskin belt too tight, bear said
I kick his balls… missed!
Big bear removes belt
One-fourth head and blue balls smiles
Gets beat down instead
Beeper beeps and beeps
“Having fun with your blind date?”
[I haven’t written a BearFic in quite a while. So, I decided to randomly mix up a couple of photos I’ve collected from my online journeys as well as photos from Renaissance Faires I had attended and create some semblance of story out of them. Even if my story gets a thumbs down, I hope that I will have made it up by posting these loverly bearish images for your viewing pleasure…]
A Good Bear Is Hard To Find
I’m not quite sure what day it is, nor month, nor even year. All I know is that my head hurts like a mother and I seem to be in some sort of outdoor circus. It’s a lovely day, that’s for sure, where I could taste the hickory flavor of burnt barbecues and get drunk from various mixtures of liquor and beer. More than likely, I’m drunk and I just do not know it.
A stocky and grizzly man stops me in my tracks. “Halt!” he orders, while I stare at his golden brown locks. “Join me in our festivities, young man and aid me in drowning my sorrows over a good cup of mead!”
Sure, why not? I tell myself. I enter his tent and I watch him wrestle with his drunken self as he tries to sit cross-legged on the ground. I assist him as I smell his sweat from wearing such ridiculous clothing that appears to be five layers thick.
“My liege,” (for I’m not quite sure what to call him) “methinks you should rest easy and remove thy pesky robes for it is hot and the tent is oh so cool.” I believe I giggled.
He then falls on his back, spilling his mead all over his robe. In an instant, he begins snoring.
I am tempted to disrobe him as I am painfully curious to see what was hidden beneath that heft.
But I decide against it and remove my shirt instead to clean the beautiful grizzly bear up.
And as I leave the tent and turn around, I see him completely naked and only completely dressed by his natural thick fur. He walks up to me and gently kisses me on my right cheek.
“Thank you,” he says as he slowly disappears within a haze of smoke.
“That’s a bit strange,” I tell myself. “Probably some sort of trick.”
While walking out, a younger man of spectacular girth meets me. “Fancy sparring with me?”
Sure, why not? I tell myself. He gives me a pole with protective foams on both ends. I believe I giggled.
Now, being twice as light as the young bear, I am quicker on my feet. I hit him on his belly multiple times but I do not hit as hard. He realizes this as he yells, “Harder, lad, harder! Hit me with all of your might!”
I listen to him until he falls on his back. The crowd around me screams for blood while the warrior bear lies helpless on the ground.
Again, my sex throbs in pain. How I want to just dominate the large man and tear his costume apart.
But I decide against it and remove my pants so that I, too, am humiliated from the fight.
And as I walk away, equally beaten and shamed, I see him completely naked and only completely dressed by his natural thick fur. He walks up to me and kisses me on my left cheek.
“Thank you,” he says as he slowly disappears within a haze of smoke.
“I must learn that clever trick,” I tell myself.
Shirtless and pantless, I see a husky man entertaining the public with a toy catapult. It costs 1 gold to play but as I have left my pants somewhere, I do not have any funds.
The husky bear calls me and offers that I play the game for free. “There is a catch, though.” he says. “You must completely soak me with these water balloons first. It’s fairly easy as I will be standing about three feet away from you. If you don’t hit me at least once, you will owe me a hundred gold.”
Sure, why not? I tell myself. He gives me 100 water balloons. I believe I giggled.
He then stands approximately three feet away from me as he extends his arms and legs apart. “You may commence.”
I do commence but I do not hit him. Instead, I drench the Gentle Ladies of Camelot, the Mosaic Bards of the Common West, and the Lost Tribes of Myceria.
And as I kneel in front of him to offer my service of servitude for I do not have a single gold, I see him completely naked and only completely dressed by his natural thick fur. He walks up to me and kisses me on my lips.
“Thank you,” he says as he slowly disappears within a haze of smoke.
“This is getting stranger by the minute,” I tell myself.
As I walk through the grassy knolls, a large bald man blocks my way.
“Am I too good for you?” he asks me demandingly.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“See these biceps? Are they not to your liking? See the fur on my chest? Are they not furry enough?”
And the more I look at him as he flexes his muscles, I notice that he resembles the drunken grizzly bear.
My head aches even further so I run away until I can not run any further.
In my way is a mob of large men of varying sizes. One, in particular, catches my eye.
He then sees me as he pushes away through the throng of bearish men.
“Am I too good for you?” he asks me demandingly.
“Are you ashamed of me? Do I frighten you among these other people?”
And the more I look at him, I notice that he resembles the bear warrior.
I refuse to answer his questions so I run away, my head hurting even more.
I then hit a large man who’s purchasing some drinks. I cannot help but stare and admire his beautiful build.
“Why do you resist? Why can’t you accept who you are?”
And the more I look at him, I notice that he resembles the husky bear with the catapult.
With my mind reeling, I run away. I run until the moon is within my view. All I see is darkness except for a small dot of light in the distance.
I walk towards it and see a lone arcade machine where a parody of a large and brutish man stands waiting to be punched in the belly.
I tear up, not knowing why, and proceed to punch it on the belly.
I punch and punch and punch until my fists are red. And I punch some more until I briefly see this image:
* * * * *
“Hey there, wake up.”
I wake up shivering and soaking from sweat. I look around me and it appears that I seem to be in some kind of hospital tent.
“Are you feeling better?” a nurse asks me.
“Yes. Just had the weirdest dream.”
“No stomach pains?”
“Good. Good. Here, drink some water.”
I drink the water and it refreshes me. As my vision clears up, I notice that there are many female nurses in the tent. Many. Way too many.
They are whispering at each other while they stare at me. I only hear bits and pieces, such as “He’ll do” and “I should go first” and “I hope we bear boys.”
I realize what’s going on. What a cruel joke this is. I call my nurse and request for a larger female first.
Also, a blindfold.
[The following screenshots of the Statue of Demuul is from Marlboroma1n’s Flickr Page. I love the photos so much that I’ve written a BearFic out of it. Wait for it… LOL.]
The Statue Of Demuul
I’ve always done crazy things. I once thought that I could defy gravity and broke my right thumb while rolling down Nayramadin Peak when I was but a child. Another time, I thought that I could sense moving objects while my eyes remained closed while crossing the busy streets of Ulaanbaatar. I thought I was fearless, but my mother always reminded me that I was simply crazy like my father. My father left my mother while I was in my youth. She had never said it, but I knew that she blamed me for it. Maybe I do blame myself which was why I did the things I did. I wanted to know why I was alive. Or maybe because I wanted to be with my father, wherever he was.
But I knew that I was really crazy when the Statue of Demuul spoke to me.
“Thank you,” it said.
I thought it was Batukhan playing another silly prank. I always wondered if he knew that I would always pass a secretive glance at the beautiful Statue of Demuul. I circled the statue and did not find Batukhan.
“Up here,” it said.
I faced the statue and it looked exactly like it had always been. Solid, firm, and strong. I could not stop gazing at its wide and bulky chest.
“I want to thank you, Bataar.”
“Thank me, for what?” I foolishly responded, trying to stop from laughing.
“For loving me.”
It suddenly did not become a joke. I would find this joker and beat the living daylights out of him.
“You’re the only one who notices me. I have sat here through decades and no one has looked at me the way you do.”
Not only was this strange, but I was even more angered at someone knowing about my deepest secrets. I started to run away.
“Bataar! Please! Come back!”
There was something in its voice that prompted me to stop. Its voice was very familiar. it was the same aching voice I hear in my heart when I think of finding my father.
I was crazy anyway, I told myself, and returned to the statue.
“What exactly do you want me to say?” I asked.
“Through the long winters I was covered in ice but did not know what the cold felt like. And in the short summers, I saw the sun, yet never knew the warmth of its beams. But, Bataar, every time I saw you pass by, you would look at me and I would feel either coldness or warmth. I could even hear the rustle of the distant trees and songs of the little birds nested within. You have given me a gift. And I want to thank you.”
I took it all in, as though I was talking to a real person. There was an honesty to what it said and I could not help but feel sympathetic.
“But how can you be, well, alive? You are a Khunbish. You are not human!”
“I may not be human, but your love has given me life.”
“I am either insane or truly insane.”
“Perhaps. But is it truly a bad thing?”
I proudly showed it my fractured thumb and the scar on my left hip that I got from a swerving motorcycle while crossing the streets of Ulaanbaatar with my eyes closed. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
The statue laughed and said, “I was actually there when they happened. Look at my right thumb and left hip.”
I stared dumbfounded at its fractured thumb and scar. “This cannot be real.”
“I never believed it myself. I just know that you have given me life, and I want to thank you.”
“This is unfair. What exactly do I do now?” Suddenly, I now have that aching voice.
“There is always purpose, Bataar. I now know why I am alive.”
I stared at its unmoving lips, waiting for it to explain.
“I am your pain vessel. I store your pains.”
“That does not make any sense,” I replied.
“I am not sure of it myself. I just know that that is my purpose. Please. Look into my eyes.”
I looked at its eyes and I felt an electrical surge going through my body, except that it did not hurt at all. I saw a bright light and I thought that I saw my father.
“Look at your thumb. It’s not fractured any longer.” I looked at my thumb and it was indeed healed. “Look at your scar and you will not find it.” I did and was amazed at it being gone. “Do not worry, my little Bataar. I will protect you from all your pains…”
* * * * *
The doctor walked inside Room 405 and found the mother crying besides her son’s hospital bed.
“Doctor, will my son be okay?”
“Your son has suffered through a severe head concussion and he will be unconscious for quite some time. The x-rays and police report have indeed verified that he was beaten multiple times on the head and was possibly thrown down a flight of stairs. Mrs. Ali, you may want to talk to the police outside. They need to know where your husband might be.”
A nurse assisted Mrs. Ali as they left Room 405.
What the doctor did not tell Mrs. Ali was that her son, Bataar, had only a few hours to live. The doctor had learned to lie during traumatic moments such as these as honesty was sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. A gust of wind then opened the windows as the doctor walked over to close them. And as he closed the windows, he saw the mighty Statue of Demuul from a distance.
[The following photos of this “daddy bear” were shared from the Brotherhood Of Bears Yahoo Group. I have no idea who he is though. However, he is definitely such a woofy material that I was inspired to write a story about him…]
Just Another Bad Day
It was a long day at work today. My boss told me that he’d be taking half of my paycheck this week to pay for the damaged door of my cab. What the hell. It’s not my fault my passenger was a tweaked out birdie who decided to kick the door wide open while I was driving 50 down Harrison. Lucky it’s not your whole pathetic check. Guess how much our insurance is gonna cough up for that Porsche you totaled?
Whatever. I just wanted to go home, down a brewski, and watch some infomercials until I jacked myself off to sleep. Yeah, sounded like a good plan.
However, I noticed that my door was partly open and that just completely pissed me off. If there was someone inside, that sucker’s gonna know pain.
I peeked in and saw a big, hairy brute of a man who was only wearing tight blue underwear. This housebreaker and thief was tying up a big box which was probably my useless junk. Upon seeing his massive, sweaty body, I did not know if I was gonna get angry or excited. Suddenly, both conflicting emotions took the best of me and I quickly rushed through the door, completely shocking the big man. To my surprise, I managed to tackle him to the floor.
My right cheek felt his thick and furry belly while I smelled his manly scent. He was completely lying on the floor with his arms outstretched. I planted both my hands on both of his burly shoulders while I pushed myself up.
“Don’t you say a fucking word,” I commanded. The daddy bear had no fear in him as he stared at me while I felt his heaving stomach on my crotch.
“Good. You know, I’m sick and tired of getting pushed around. There is no such thing as karma.” I thought that last line was a good touch. And with that, I grabbed his packing rope while I went behind the big man. I placed my right knee on his back while I tightly tied his wrists.
When I knew that my knot was completely secured, I stood up and walked in front of him. I felt a tinge of satisfaction seeing such a big man completely helpless and under my mercy. His legs were spread apart and I could see his bulge in that skimpy underwear. What a beautiful daddy, I thought to myself.
At that point, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I really did not want to call the pigs on him. Probably just another junkie or some homeless dude and I did have a heart. You know what? I got no plans for the evening anyway. And with that, I noticed that there were quite a few more ropes left.
I helped the big bear to his feet as my forearms squeezed between his massive arms and chest. He tried to resist but he knew that he could not do much. I then pushed him to the table and he landed on his gut as he made a loud “Oof!” Yeah, daddy, ‘woof’ indeed.
I then proceeded to tie his legs to his wrists. Just like a luau. When I finished, I sat on the floor while I admired my work of art. This was gonna be my entertainment for tonight and I was going to let him go in a few minutes. Hell, I’m even gonna help him pack my junk. Good riddance to them.
I then heard nervous mutterings of a Russian lady behind me. It was definitely my neighbor, dear old Mrs. Sokolov. I guess I’d better explain to her what’s happening.
“What did you do to my son, Oleg?”
I then looked around me and realized that it was not even my apartment. Shit. I guess it’s just another bad day. I looked behind me and I noticed Oleg giving me a sly wink.
Or maybe it’s not such a bad day after all.
[The following screenshots are of Michael Gottli from a film titled Tales From The Gimli Hospital. The accompanying fiction in this post is not from the film but from my bear-filled brain… It is also a crossover-BearFic (lol) mentioned in the Primoz Petkovsek BearFic, “War & Sex.”]
Matevs & Katja
-Michael Gottli BearFic-
It happened during a time of wars and hate. Some said it was a curse from the gods. Others said that it was the beginning of the end of mankind’s reign on earth. While a handful few knew what it was about and even knew what had caused it. But they were all either dead, gone, or might as well be dead. For knowing the truth would not prevent the inevitable. But as all things came to pass, myths and legends arose. They are far more interesting than the reality of such events. So in spite of the darkness and madness, there was once such a story of love and hope. It is the tale of handsome Matevs and beautiful Katja.
Matevs was a soldier. He was the remaining soldier of Unit 859. Henrik and he were the sole survivors of The Problem. But Henrik found a woman begging for water in the shores of Golfo di Trieste. Henrik, a good-hearted man, approached her and stayed a good distance away from her as he poured water on her parched lips. The woman, grateful for such kindness, touched Henrik’s hand. That was the last time Matevs saw Henrik.
Matevs had heard of an outpost where The Problem had not affected its community. They called it “The Crossroads.” It was a tall tale to keep the soldiers going, to keep them fighting an enemy they could never defeat. Matevs was the only one who believed in it. He longed for a woman’s touch and he knew that he will find this in The Crossroads.
So Matevs traveled on. He barely slept as he did not want to come across The Women, both dead and living. For months he trekked through valleys and fields, enduring the stench of human and animal decay.
* * * * *
Matevs woke up in what looked like a makeshift hospital room. He did not remember what happened to him. Perhaps he had fainted from the heat or hunger. But who had brought him here?
As he wondered, he remembered having a vivid dream of an angelic woman helping him walk inside The Crossroads. She was very beautiful and she took great care of him. She cleaned his wounds and relieved his hungry stomach. And she was able to touch him.
Matevs heard someone walk in his room. To his surprise, it was the woman in his dreams. Could it not be a dream?
Matevs demanded to know her name. “I am, Katja,” she said. She then looked at him and explained to Matevs that she found him lying near the river. She and her fellow nurses brought him in to their hospice. She called it “The Crossroads.”
“You have been resting for a good three weeks, my soldier,” Katja said. “I’m glad to have seen you finally awake. Now I can tell you stories and you can actually listen to them.”
Matevs could not believe his eyes. A woman. She had touched me and I lived.
Matevs begged her to touch him. Katja then said, “I have touched you everyday and I long more than to touch you. I want to feel your love. I want to be part of you.”
With no doubts and no fear, Matevs and Katja exchanged a love that would echo through the end of human time.
My dear friends, that was the tale of “Matevs & Katja.” It became a song for the soldiers after them. They became the symbol of hope and of survival.
But like most things, myths are only just that: lies.
This is the true story of Matevs & Katja…
“I do not want to die,” Matevs pleaded. “I don’t understand why you are able to touch me.”
“My soldier, let me show you why.” Katja removed her gown and Matevs realized the truth.
“I did not mean to deceive you. You were in pain and you needed medicine and care.”
Matevs stared at Katja with disgust. An abomination.
Katja felt Matevs’ anger and humiliation. But she longed for a man’s touch and she was willing to die for such a fleeting moment of affection.
And as the two embraced, Matevs plunged his knife on Katja’s belly. Katja whispered to Matevs, “I forgive you.”
It was at that moment that Matevs realized what he had done. All he could think of was that he had done a great deed. I am still a soldier. It had to be done.
And that, my dear friends, was how the real story ended.
[Related Posts – Primoz Petkovsek]