Take All of It September 2019

by Scarlett Skyes

  Kinks/Sub-Genres

  Paranormal, Shifter, Werebear, Rough Sex, Breeding, Virgin, Schoolgirl

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  *****

  My life was as nomadic as any army brat's ever was, almost certainly more so, and although my parents weren't in the army, I wished they were. The way I figured it, those army brats had it easy compared to me.

  Whenever they started at a new school, probably near an army base where a lot of other army-families passed through, they got to tell stories about how their parents went overseas to help with peacekeeping operations, or help fight terrorism. I didn't have that luxury.

  When I was dragged across the country, usually when I'd just managed to start making some new friends, and enrolled in a new school, I had to tell people that my parents were paranormal investigators. Debunkers, really, because they always set out to make the people who believed in the supernatural look as silly as they could in their books, never to conduct any kind of unbiased investigation.

  I could have lied, I had lied in the past, but when the truth came out (and it always came out) the lies only made it worse. When we moved into the sleepy little town of Faymeadow so they could ridicule the local legend about the Bearback Mountain creature, I didn't even have that option.

  On my very first day at school, when I strolled into English class, I stopped so suddenly in the doorway that the guy behind me walked straight into me. There, sitting opposite the most crush-worthy teacher I'd ever seen, were my parents with their notebooks out and most un-genuine polite-smiles on their faces as they took some notes about whatever they were talking about.

  "... but you'll have to excuse me," said the teacher, "my next class is about to start."

  "Oh, of course, can we contact you out of hours or on the weekends if we think of anything else? I'd really like to take a look at your collection of newspaper clippings," said my dad.

  "Sure, here's my number." The teacher wrote something down on a scrap of paper and slid it across his desk. "I might not always answer, there are some parts of town where the reception isn't great, but leave a message and I'll do my best to get back to you ASAP."

  The teacher paused for a moment and raised his head, his brow furrowing slightly, almost as if he'd heard something in the distance or caught the scent of something like a bloodhound. Then he turned to look at me.

  My parents also turned to see what he was looking at, so they didn't see the expression he fixed me with. His eyes narrowed and I swore I saw the corner of his mouth raise just the tiniest amount.

  Just having him look at me made my heart flutter. With me being the outcast that I was, I usually only got those kinds of looks on my first day before word got out that dating me or being my friend might be social-suicide, so I enjoyed the looks while I could, wherever they might come from.

  He was even more handsome than I had first thought, that didn’t hurt. With those deep brown eyes and the hint of a physique under his clothes that no English teacher had any business possessing, yes, definitely crush-worthy.

  Still, my parents killed the moment with ruthless efficiency by waving and calling me Teddy-Bearica like I was five instead of just plain-old-Erica. The students filing in behind me snickered quietly as my parents closed their notebooks and offered their thanks to the teacher, 'Mr. Bertram' apparently, as oblivious to the train-wreck they were making of my life as they always were.

  I wouldn't have been surprised if my mother had spat on a tissue and come over to rub some fictional mess off my face, so I muttered my hellos and quickly retreated to the desk right at the back of the class, where I hoped I might develop the super-power of invisibility, while they finished packing up and left. It didn't work, and Mr. Bertram did the whole welcome-the-new-student thing before explaining why my parents had come to town, and to speak to him specifically.

  It turned out that Mr. Bertram was something of a local expert on the Bearback Mountain Creature and he dedicated the entire lesson to talking about it. I had to admit he told a good story, and I was glad of it, because it kept everybody from turning around to look at me. Everybody was interested in what he had to say, but the dreamy looks on all the girls faces told me that I wasn't the only one who had wondered what Mr. Bertram looked like under that shirt.

  He paced back and forth in front of the class and I wondered if my female classmates thought he looked at them the same way I thought he looked at me. Every time he glanced in my direction, I felt special. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling that made it all too easy to slip into a daydream and I was sure I looked every bit as doe-eyed as the others.

  Near the end of the lesson, the boy in front of me turned and introduced himself as Nick. He even told me not to worry about what my parents did, he could tell me stories about any one of my classmates that was a thousand times worse. I couldn't help but smile. Maybe this school wouldn't be so bad after all.

  *****

  Of all the places I'd ever lived, Faymeadow was my favourite. Instead of being that weirdo that has to sit by herself at lunchtime, my classmates displayed an incredible lack of the condescending judgement that I'd seen at all my other schools and for the first time in all my eighteen years I had a big group of friends. For the first time in my life I even had a boyfriend in Nick.

  The inhabitants seemed fully self-conscious of the novelty factor the local legend imparted on the town. Even the condoms in the convenience store had a little sign that advised customers not to go ‘bearback’. The vaguely hilly forest known as Bearback Mountain was a beautiful backdrop to the good-natured atmosphere.

  Even my parents' continued investigation into the Bearback Mountain Creature couldn't bring me down. They found no trace of the mythical beast, as they expected, but no matter how many deer they recorded on motion-sensing cameras or how many of my friends' families they bothered with interviews, nobody seemed to take offence. It was amazing.

  I'd never been happier. It was scary, but fun, navigating my way through my first real relationship. After beginning to date Nick near the end of the school year, things were moving along pretty quickly, I thought that any one of our petting sessions could be the one that led to me losing my virginity.

  That was one of two secrets I kept from Nick. It came up when my friends were talking about a camping trip up on Bearback Mountain, which was a kind of rite of passage in Faymeadow. Other towns had their haunted houses where high school kids dared each other to spend the night, in Faymeadow you were supposed to brave the Bearback Mountain Creature.

  It was then that the conversation turned to the other part of the legend about the creature, namely how it liked to "fuck the ever-loving bejesus" out of virgin girls. They all laughed it off, apparently all the others had been fucking like rabbits for a while now. I laughed it off too, not wanting to be the odd one out, just when I felt like I was fitting in.

  I didn't believe in the Loch Ness Monster, alien abductions, the Bearback Mountain Creature, or that Elvis was still alive, but that didn't mean I wasn't a little nervous about doing the local equivalent of wrapping myself in meat and diving into shark-infested waters. It would also almost certainly be the best opportunity that Nick and I had yet had to go all the way.

  The second secret I kept from Nick was how I sometimes, when he was touching me, imagined that it was Mr. Bertram. It was a guilty pleasure. From what I'd read, imagination was half the fun of sex, so surely it wasn't wrong to let myself indulge in a little fantasy, right? Besides, those times when I imagined Mr. Bertram were the times that got me the hottest, that made me feel the most adventurous, and Nick was the prime beneficiary, so ultimately I guessed he wouldn't have minded too much.

  I couldn't put my finger on it, exactly. There was just something about the handsome English teacher that made me hot as fuck. Whenever he looked at me in class, stood near, or oh my God, leaned over my desk to help me with something, I got all sl
ippery between my legs. He was good-looking, that much was obvious, but I didn't quite understand that animal magnetism he seemed to have, even though I felt it so strongly myself.

  *****

  I'd never been camping with friends before, never had enough friends to camp with, but by the time a good portion of the guys had made their way through some beer and somebody pulled out a guitar, I was having the time of my life. Losing myself in the banter and sing-alongs, I forgot all about my nerves and as the day progressed into evening, all I could think about was the precious gift that I'd give Nick in our tent that night.

  It seemed that Nick was thinking along the same lines, as he spent more and more time cuddled up to me as the camping party went on. At a little bit after midnight though, things took a turn for the worse. Nick crossed that invisible line between a good drunken-buzz and into the realm of incoherence.

  In the end, he was one of the last ones awake partying and when he stumbled into the tent and fumbled around on top of me for a few minutes before passing out, I was left high and dry. Well, high and wet would probably be more accurate, and so very frustrated.

  I left the tent, buttoning my pyjamas back up as I approached the dying embers of the fire, after checking to make sure that nobody else was around to see me. With a sigh, I sat down on one of the logs next to where the campfire had been and took a deep breath.

  Feelings of disappointment washed over me, feelings that I didn't quite understand. There were a lot of nights where I hadn't lost my virginity, why had this one hit me so hard?

  After pondering the question for a while I supposed it must be because this was the first night where I'd wanted it to happen, it actually had a chance of happening, and I'd built it up in my mind to the point of almost emotionally depending on it happening. That was pretty deep thinking for a horny teenager, and that idea made me giggle a bit.

  There was also something about this pine-scented 'mountain' air that made me feel like some kind of hippy, like peace and love and lots of sex were the only things worth thinking about. Maybe it was the reason the people in Faymeadow were so laid-back, I didn't know.

  My tie-dyed musings were cut short when I heard a twig snap near the edge of the clearing behind me, accompanied by a growl so low that I almost felt it more than heard it. Terror hit me like a lightning bolt, leaving me quivering somewhere between fight, flight and freeze instincts as I tried to whip my head around, bunch my fists and stay as still as a statue all at the same time.

  The end-result of these conflicting instincts was a slow and shaky turning of my head in the direction of the sound. What I saw almost made me faint. Standing there, ten feet tall if it was an inch and shaggy-haired like a grizzly bear, was something that was not quite human and not quite animal. Even from this distance I could see the long black claws on the ends of its fingers, resting on the tree it was partially standing behind.

  The 'flight' response immediately quashed it's adversaries and took control of my body when I saw that, and I sprang to my feet before leaping straight over the remains of the campfire. If I could just make it to one of the cars, I had a chance of surviving this. Maybe I could scare it away with the horn and wake my friends up all at once.

  With a heart that felt like any panicked beat might be the one to make it explode, I... slipped on the remains of a hot dog and stumbled to the ground. I looked over my shoulder as I tried to scramble to my feet, only to see the creature loping across the clearing with long fleet-footed strides, baring it's teeth in what looked uncannily like a smug smile rather than the more-likely option of it simply getting ready to eat me.

  Before I'd regained my footing, it bent down and scooped me up in one arm without even slowing it's pace and slung me over it's shoulder. It jumped clean over Nick's car and crashed into the woods on the other side. When it hit the ground, it's shoulder knocked the wind out of me, strangling the first scream I'd even remembered to attempt.

  With my heart still going at about a million beats per minute, terror wracking every fibre of my being and the added desperation for oxygen, I felt consciousness slipping away from me, even as the creature's hand slipped around my upper thigh to hold me in place on it's shoulder. The last thing I thought before I passed out was that it was really strange just how high that hand was holding me, the side of one finger was literally resting right on my pussy through my pyjamas.

  *****

  I was awake for a few seconds, wondering what that popping and crackling sound was, before the memory of what had happened even hit me. I opened my eyes and propped myself up on my elbow, finding myself on a bed in some log cabin.

  A small fire, the source of the sound, flamed lazily in the fireplace in the opposite wall. My brow furrowed in confusion. This was not what the inside of a monster’s stomach would look like, nor was it the kind of cave that I imagined something like the Bearback Mountain Creature would live on. What had happened?

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement and turned to see that I wasn’t alone, nor was I with the beast that had abducted me. It did nothing to calm my confusion.

  “Mr… Bertram?” I asked.

  Had I died? Was this supposed to be my version of heaven? My English teacher smiled that self-assured and knowing smile of his and stood up to his full height, having apparently been leaning against the wall while he waited for me to wake up.

  “That was a close call, wasn’t it, Erica?”

  I thought I must almost certainly be dead or dreaming as the object of my secret lust took a couple of steps towards me, the firelight revealing that he was wearing an unbuttoned shirt over jeans and confirming what I had long fantasised about. Mr. Bertram had the body of a Greek God, and I wanted to run my fingers over those abs, despite the lingering fear of my ordeal.

  “What happened?” I asked, not even able to look him in the eye as the fire lit his muscular torso even better with every step.

  “I was almost too late. You almost gave yourself to Nick.”

  “But… what about the… the thing?”

  “The Bearback Mountain Creature?”

  I nodded, and Mr. Bertram smirked.

  “You’re about to learn enough to fill ten of your parents’ books about that. You’ll be able to go into especially lengthy detail about how hard it fucks.”

  For just a second, Mr. Bertram started growing, his features taking on a bearish quality, before he once more looked like nothing more than a mild-mannered, if suspiciously muscular, high school teacher. I let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream and started scrambling backwards, but Mr. Bertram grabbed one of my ankles and pulled me back down to the bottom edge of the bed before climbing on and brushing my flailing limbs aside as if I was no stronger or more substantial than a gentle breeze.

  In a matter of only a few seconds, he was between my legs with one hand tightly holding a fistful of my long hair to stop me from squirming away. I pushed against him, but I might as well have been pushing against a skyscraper for all the good it did.

  I felt his rock-hard muscles under my hands, the undeniable power there, and looked down nervously at where my pyjama-clad pussy was almost touching an ominous bulge at the front of his jeans. I managed to get my feet on his hips and tried to kick myself away from his grasp, but only succeeded in unleashing a searing pain in my scalp where my hair was pulled taut.

  “I love it when you struggle, especially you petite ones. You’re so feisty, in so much self-denial, as if your pussy hasn’t been wet for me these past few months,’ he whispered in my ear.

  I shied away from his mouth, partly from the fear of him suddenly taking a bite out of me, but mostly in shame at the truth he was speaking. But how could he know?

  “I… it hasn’t!” I lied.

  Mr. Bertram tsk-tsked. “You can lie about some things, Erica, but you can’t lie about that. Werebears have one of the most powerful senses of smell in the animal kingdom. I’m surprised I don’t have to wipe down your fucking chair before my next class
begins. I should have some kind of merit award for not ripping your panties off and fucking you on your desk in front of everybody. You virgins smell… so… good.”

  My English teacher hissed those last words into my ear and pressed that bulge against me, rubbing the material of my pyjamas against my slit and surprising me with a jolt of pleasure as if he had the world’s thickest magic wand between his legs. I shivered and closed my eyes.

  “There it is,” he said. “You can’t help it, Erica. You’re a slut in a virgin’s body. It’s OK. Even now, pretending to fight it, you’re thinking about what it would feel like to have my big cock fuck your virginity away, aren’t you?”

  I hadn’t been, but as soon as he said it I got a vivid image of his thickness pushing my pussy lips to their limits as he slowly slid inside and knew me like no man ever had. I shook my head, trying to get the thought out of my mind.

  This was all kinds of wrong. Sure, I’d lusted after Mr. Bertram in an innocent puppy-dog-eyed schoolgirl kind of way, but so had all the other girls. That was different from actually doing something in reality, and that was before he turned out to be a… a werebear? Whatever that was.

  Yet, that spark of pleasure had halted my struggles as surely as a brick wall on a race track, and my hand was pressed firmly on his stomach, no longer pushing him away but happily caressing the bare skin I’d daydreamed about so much. Even as I struggled with these thoughts, he was whispering utterly depraved things in my ears, filling my mind with more and more thoughts that almost didn’t feel like my own. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying, I only managed to get snippets here and there.

  “… like a banshee… cum so hard… tight little… my fuck toy…”

  Then, as if that wasn’t distracting enough, he began gently grinding that bulge against me and, to my shame, I felt my pyjamas were all wet and slippery from my pussy having apparently gone into overdrive with hopeful preparation. It wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t have felt so damn good, but it did.