Help! A Bear Is Eating Me! by Mykle Hansen
Authors: Mykle Hansen
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Fiction - General, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), General & Literary Fiction, bears, Dangerous animals
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Goodman can play Edna.
Very tired. Nice to finally get tired. Quick nap. William H. Macy as Mister Bear. Or they can use computer graphics. Or a trained bear.
Can you believe they train bears? BRAD PITT AND WILLIAM H. MACY DEVOURED IN STUDIO BEAR CATASTROPHE! Hah. That’d be funny.
Bear bad. Sleep good.
11
Then, like a dream soft and moist, Marcia from Product Dialogue comes to me, squeezing in under the car to warm me with her hot, needy body. She has on the fur coat and hat I bought for Edna, and nothing underneath. She climbs on top of me, pushing me into the mud, she pulls apart her coat and crushes her twin pleasure zeppelins in my cold stubbly face. She’s hungry. She rubs up and down against me like a cat, lubricating her crotch with the dark brown Ranger Steve’s Bear Bait on my pants and coat. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open in an O, her tongue protrudes slightly as she sniffs my neck, my face, my hair. Now she rips asunder the buttons on my Ralph Lauren flannel-cotton outdoorsman shirt, scraping my chest with her long nails. Now she is biting my ear. Biting it hard. Oh shit, Marcia from Product Dialogue just bit my ear off. She raises her head above me and the bloody ear drips in my eye. Oh baby! I am hard like a two by four. She grinds her hot sex taco against my tweed hunting crotch, clawing at the reinforced zipper, shredding the tweed, freeing my mighty Monster Black Torpedo which springs up and slaps her in the face. Her eyes grow large with addicted need as she begins to lick the juice from its massive brown tip. She stretches her jaw out wide like a snake to fill her mouth with my cock, and bites down hard, gnawing on my big Slim Jim like a Papillon gnaws on a tennis ball. She rips off a few inches, chews heartily and swallows.
“Spicy Chorizo … oh yeah!” she moans, taking another bite. I feel no pain, only sex, only unbridled animal lust. Her bait-greased nipples slide up and down the shaft of my abbreviated but still astonishingly huge member, and I know very soon I’m going to ejaculate several pints of blood in her face. “Take off the coat, baby,” I moan. “It’s impossible to get that stuff cleaned.” But now the fur is her and she is the fur, it grows from her nipples and her belly and her face. “Do you like it, Marv? I took the hormones just like you said.” She licks my face with her long ursine tongue and howls as she mounts my love-jerky. Her fur is thick and soft as ermine and she radiates heat. “Baby I’ve been so cold,” I tell her, “what took you so long?” She growls playfully and bites off my nose.
The grinding, the slashing, the pulverizing accelerates but just before I can release what few fluids remain within me, the Rover’s engine turns over and roars to life. Slowly it drives off of us. I look down at my mangled, missing legs, but all I see is fur. I wiggle my toe and a fuzzy paw answers me. I have bear legs now, and bear feet — negro bear feet! Oh shit, this is just too strange. I stand up, waving my hands and sniffing the air. I can walk! It’s a miracle! Negro bear feet will do for now, I’ll have to get them changed later though.
I feel a strange craving for nuts and berries, but first things first. My Rover accelerates away into the brush. I sprint after it, bear-quick, faster than Jesse Owens, Michael Jordan and Colin Powell combined. I leap onto the roof of the Rover and peer over the rack into the windshield. Inside, no surprise, it’s treacherous Frankie Baumer and aggravating Edna … but what’s this? Baumer is wearing my camel hair hunting jacket and my driving glasses, and on his cuffs are my M.L.O.T.P. cufflinks! And Edna wears Marcia’s camo halter top and headband, and a thick crust of Marcia’s makeup. And her god-damn Papillon dog Wagner is on her lap, gnawing on the Oxford leather armrest and scratching flea eggs onto everyplace. Edna studies the map in her right hand, while with her left hand she massages the inside of
Very tired. Nice to finally get tired. Quick nap. William H. Macy as Mister Bear. Or they can use computer graphics. Or a trained bear.
Can you believe they train bears? BRAD PITT AND WILLIAM H. MACY DEVOURED IN STUDIO BEAR CATASTROPHE! Hah. That’d be funny.
Bear bad. Sleep good.
11
Then, like a dream soft and moist, Marcia from Product Dialogue comes to me, squeezing in under the car to warm me with her hot, needy body. She has on the fur coat and hat I bought for Edna, and nothing underneath. She climbs on top of me, pushing me into the mud, she pulls apart her coat and crushes her twin pleasure zeppelins in my cold stubbly face. She’s hungry. She rubs up and down against me like a cat, lubricating her crotch with the dark brown Ranger Steve’s Bear Bait on my pants and coat. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open in an O, her tongue protrudes slightly as she sniffs my neck, my face, my hair. Now she rips asunder the buttons on my Ralph Lauren flannel-cotton outdoorsman shirt, scraping my chest with her long nails. Now she is biting my ear. Biting it hard. Oh shit, Marcia from Product Dialogue just bit my ear off. She raises her head above me and the bloody ear drips in my eye. Oh baby! I am hard like a two by four. She grinds her hot sex taco against my tweed hunting crotch, clawing at the reinforced zipper, shredding the tweed, freeing my mighty Monster Black Torpedo which springs up and slaps her in the face. Her eyes grow large with addicted need as she begins to lick the juice from its massive brown tip. She stretches her jaw out wide like a snake to fill her mouth with my cock, and bites down hard, gnawing on my big Slim Jim like a Papillon gnaws on a tennis ball. She rips off a few inches, chews heartily and swallows.
“Spicy Chorizo … oh yeah!” she moans, taking another bite. I feel no pain, only sex, only unbridled animal lust. Her bait-greased nipples slide up and down the shaft of my abbreviated but still astonishingly huge member, and I know very soon I’m going to ejaculate several pints of blood in her face. “Take off the coat, baby,” I moan. “It’s impossible to get that stuff cleaned.” But now the fur is her and she is the fur, it grows from her nipples and her belly and her face. “Do you like it, Marv? I took the hormones just like you said.” She licks my face with her long ursine tongue and howls as she mounts my love-jerky. Her fur is thick and soft as ermine and she radiates heat. “Baby I’ve been so cold,” I tell her, “what took you so long?” She growls playfully and bites off my nose.
The grinding, the slashing, the pulverizing accelerates but just before I can release what few fluids remain within me, the Rover’s engine turns over and roars to life. Slowly it drives off of us. I look down at my mangled, missing legs, but all I see is fur. I wiggle my toe and a fuzzy paw answers me. I have bear legs now, and bear feet — negro bear feet! Oh shit, this is just too strange. I stand up, waving my hands and sniffing the air. I can walk! It’s a miracle! Negro bear feet will do for now, I’ll have to get them changed later though.
I feel a strange craving for nuts and berries, but first things first. My Rover accelerates away into the brush. I sprint after it, bear-quick, faster than Jesse Owens, Michael Jordan and Colin Powell combined. I leap onto the roof of the Rover and peer over the rack into the windshield. Inside, no surprise, it’s treacherous Frankie Baumer and aggravating Edna … but what’s this? Baumer is wearing my camel hair hunting jacket and my driving glasses, and on his cuffs are my M.L.O.T.P. cufflinks! And Edna wears Marcia’s camo halter top and headband, and a thick crust of Marcia’s makeup. And her god-damn Papillon dog Wagner is on her lap, gnawing on the Oxford leather armrest and scratching flea eggs onto everyplace. Edna studies the map in her right hand, while with her left hand she massages the inside of
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