Aximeck
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Brought To Bear
🕑 Added 2022-08-23 23:13:08 +0000 UTCI've been enjoying the Old Pines campaign a lot, so I wrote up a little blurb based on current events in the game.
(content: brief nightmare, post-transformation, anthro-bear, body positivity)
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The sleep Cyrus had managed to get after making sure everyone was safe at the Tower was not a restful one. The metal bedframe had groaned and creaked under his weight, and he found himself moving his mattress to the floor. Pillows and blankets were moved to prop up his head and legs to give his stomach some room, which felt uncomfortable to lay on without this sort of space for it. His mind had sped through the previous day, along with its emotions and sensations. He remembered the pit of his stomach dropping out as he saw Shane Dooley dragged into the cave with roots closing it up behind her. He remembered the sheer weight and heat of the ritual, the smell of tar and blood and petrichor. He could remember the feeling of something burning away and leaving him fresh and new.
Cyrus bolted awake at the last memory, startling an opossum, badger and raccoon that clung to his body heat and snuggled in. He glanced at the clock in the grey light of late-autumn morning.
8:09 AM.
Well, two hours was better than nothing. He grunted as he pulled himself up, careful not to disturb the sleepy poppets further. Tucking them back into the blankets and pillows on the cot, he made his way to the bathroom. He could hear and feel his heavy footfalls through the radio tower's old floorboards before a dull THUNK and a sharp pain rang through the front of his head. He growled a curse and rubbed his forehead, ducking down through the doorway and into the hall.
Cyrus had taken several minutes out there to collect himself before entering the bathroom. He had to duck down through the doorway, which wasn't uncommon in older houses like his Nana's. He'd passed through that threshold who-knows-how-many times - battered and bruised, covered in all sorts of unholy viscera and occasionally his own blood. The cabinet sink with its mirror above the basin still had some droplet stains of faded greys and rusts. Cyrus instinctively reached for the faucet for the ritual of splashing water to keep calm, but he recoiled at the sight of a furry, clawed hand.
He had to remind himself that it was his hand. Every glance and sensation of his body felt new and unfamiliar. And yet...there was something so completely comfortable about what he was seeing in the mirror.
The creature had a thick, blocky muzzle with a round button nose that was dark and slightly wet to the touch. The jawbone protruded out slightly with a thin black lower lip, where he could feel his flatter tongue settling with sharper teeth. The same scar on his left eyebrow was there, although the skin underneath looked much more leathery. His hair - well, now fur - was still the same shade of deep red, even sticking up at the top and out at the sides like his typical fauxhawk and beard. He couldn't deny that the fluffy round ears atop his head felt natural - cute, even. The thing that remained most familiar and unsettling was his eyes.
Cyrus couldn't hold a gaze for too long at first, but he caught the white sclera and bright blue of his irises. His pupils were contracted to counter the lightbulb's glare just out of the corner of his vision. With the space away from the dark of his eyes, he could see a new speckling of green mottled with the blue. He leaned over the sink before hearing and feeling a groan under his weight and the cold porcelain on the underside of his belly and quickly eased off, hunching in the mirror instead. He couldn't help a small deep laugh as his poor posture made it seem like any other morning.
Just another day, he thought as he splashed cold water on his face and shook himself awake. The water cleared out his sinuses and he took in a deep breath.
Every scent of toothpaste, detergent and toiletry was as it should be, even with the cupboards closed. He could smell the musty papers of Logan's office and the archivist's cologne down the hall. He could faintly detect the disinfectant and other medicine down in the infirmary, along with Jacob's scent of pine and Riley's cigarettes. He could also hear a bottle and some glass smash, along with the scent of strong liquor, and decided not to interrupt Theodora's progress with sobriety.
More immediately, the half-bear could smell an earthy scent and decided he needed a shower. Turning sideways in the bathroom, Cyrus realized he was too tall for the shower-head, reaching his collarbone at best. He tried pulling off his t-shirt, now stretched and torn into more of a cropped tank top. He could hear the clattering echo of shampoo bottles in the tub before seeing them scatter about.
Fuck it, he could use the hose outside. Leaning down to get the soaps and an extra towel, he caught the sight of something small in corner of his eye. In the mirror, he could see something poking out at the small of his back. He saw it move above his straining shorts and jumped for a moment to reach around at whatever was crawling on him - before he felt what it was. A short fluffy nub of a tail. Cyrus quickly left the bathroom and crept outside with all of the quiet grace typical of a bear moving through someone's house.
Going around to the back of the tower, he looked around to make sure no one could see and took off his wrinkled slept-in clothes. Turning on the hose with the nozzle, he braced for the cold before finding it wasn't as bad as he feared. As he was lathering up and washing off, he felt...bigger. His hands...paws?...roamed around and felt some noticeable changes. Finding something to wear that fit him was going to be a challenge, to say the least.
As he took inventory, the thought of Logan passed through his mind. Cyrus didn't mind his new size; he even felt a little swell of pride in it. But as he was still getting to know the cactus of a man, he wondered if it would be too much for him. He remembered Logan fussing and fiddling while trying to help Jacob into a firefighting uniform for their first adventure - telling the big wolf man to suck it in. It seemed like a lifetime ago, even after only a few months.
Coming out of his nostalgic reverie, Cyrus found himself trying to suck in his belly. He immediately sighed and let it out with a smile and a pat. It was a silly doubt to have - they'd all just have to deal with it.
Shaking off the water and doubts left his fur standing on end, leaving him looking even fluffier than before. Smoothing it down, he looked at his stretched and torn clothes, his own body, and then at the window to Jacob's room. Would he have any clothes that would fit? Probably not. Even for as tall as the bear of a man was, he wasn't as wide nor as tall as a literal bear.
With a sigh, Cyrus moved around to the window of his own room and fiddled with the window from when he'd had to sneak in or out of the Tower. He reached around blindly for the sketchbook and pencils he kept on his desk, knocking a good deal over in the process. He wrote a brief note, folded his old clothes neatly on top of his desk, and walked off into the woods.
In messy blocky handwriting, the note read:
"Went to get new clothes. Checking the goodwill donations.
P.S. I'm proud of you, Theodora.
P.P.S. Sorry if I come back still naked.
P.P.P.S. Riley and Logan, you can pick from my old closet if you want."
At the bottom of the additional notes, there was a small drawing of a smiling bear face giving the middle finger.
