Chapter 01

This story is very unlike most of my others. It is extremely tongue in cheek, written with the intent to be humorous and not take itself at all seriously. It is a mostly cheerful romp through a rather robust young woman's first and subsequent meetings with a bear shifter. It will pushed to Literotica once it is completed in full, but placed in segments here for better ease of reading.

Melody Kleptner is an anthropologist with a fairly famous television show hunting for evidence of the elusive Bigfoot. Killian Lancashire is successful computer programmer who is also a shifter of the bear persuasion. The two come together when an enthusiastic but misguided neighbor confuses the sometimes black bear for the Alabama Bigfoot. He wants her as a mate, but also wants to poke some fun at her colleagues.

Here's the beginning...

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Melody pounded the last stake into the ground, securing the tent that would be her home for the next week. The rest of the crew scurried about the encampment like so many ants, sorting equipment, tents, food. Pretty much doing whatever it took to ensure that Melody was on her own. With a shrug, she tossed the sledgehammer into the box and returned it to the truck. She was used to the men on these shoots being less than helpful, if not outright hostile. She was the debunker of myths. The rain on their parade. The fly in their soup. And all the other random clichés that meant she not only didn't believe in their bullshit, she didn't try to fake like she did. The fact that she was female just added to the hostility levels.

Ignoring the hints to start dinner, Melody started pitching the supply tents. The team could easily dine on energy bars and cold toaster pastries for one night, but the network had warned them what would happen if they lost another piece of equipment due to negligence. The rest of the crew might not believe their executive producer’s ultimatum, but she had seen them talking with their lawyers. She had heard them discussing the cost of new equipment versus buying out the team’s contracts. Melody knew they weren't bluffing this time.

Terry, the team’s oldest member in both time with the program and age, joined her at the tents. They worked in tandem, driving the long stakes into the ground and tying off guy-lines. They had three sturdy pavilions designated for the mound of equipment and supplies needed for such a show surrounded by the crew’s individual tents. As they worked, Melody and Terry discussed the issues facing the popular show. In the beginning, People had been glued to their televisions in hopes of finding the truth about the various mythological creatures that appeared in almost every culture. After six seasons of searching, the team of anthropologists, biologists, archaeologists, scientists (and every other –ist they could convince to join the show) had yet to produce a single, indisputable fact. Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Yeti remained a mystery along with their lesser known cousins like the Chupacabra, the Clurichaun, and the Leshi. Ratings had begun to drop, and the producers wanted results. If they didn't come up with something other than some indistinct footprints and ruined gear, he was looking at a return to teaching. He commented, only half-joking, that it really wasn't on his to-do list.

It took the better part of day to set up camp and sort their gear. When they were done, they placed the expensive camera equipment in the center tent ringed by the men’s pop-ups. The network executives had made it quite plain that a team member was easier to replace than one of the motion-sensitive, hi-resolution cameras. Though he maintained that the loss of the previous three had been through freak accidents, Terry had sworn on a stack of Bibles that he would guard this one with his life. He would also share the tent with the camera, which ensured he wasn't the first member to hit the unemployment line. A large canopy with removable mesh sides held their tracking supplies as well as their potable water and food. Melody, along with one of the younger members of the team, suggested suspending their food but the rest of the team dismissed their concerns with condescending laughter. They had never had problems before and the “new kids” were just being paranoid.

Melody grabbed a bottle of water, a banana, and an energy bar, found a comfortable shade tree, and read the file for this episode’s investigation. Local reports told of a large, hairy humanoid roaming the woods, making odd sounds and scaring the chickens. She chuckled softly as she looked at the grainy photographs. Even the best one could be anything from a man in a costume to an oddly pruned tree. If they had only known her Great Uncle Larry, they would have declared him Bigfoot. He had been over seven feet tall, and cursed with an acute case of Hypertrichosis, more commonly called Ambras or werewolf syndrome. In layman’s terms, he was a very, very hairy man. She flipped the page with a smirk. Uncle Larry looked more the part than these blurry photographs. As a former sideshow and vaudeville performer, he would have had too much fun with a program such as this one. Melody was pretty confident that this area’s Bigfoot was just another Uncle Larry.

“So, what do you think, Miss Kleptner? Still believe we’re chasing fairytales?” Andrew, the show’s researcher, flopped onto the ground beside her.

“I do, actually.” Melody flipped the file back to the small number of photographs. “These are terrible. My phone takes better pictures, and it’s a disposable flip-phone from the age of dinosaurs.”

“Well, most people don’t have our state of the art equipment readily at hand when a large humanoid creature stumbles across their back yard.”

“I suppose not, but seriously, a Polaroid would have taken a better picture.” She pulled the worst of the photos from the group and set it at the top of the stack. It showed a fuzzy silhouette crossing an open field. “Look at this one. It’s little more than a human-shaped shadow. There’s nothing nearby to give perspective, nor are there any landmarks to place this field. The creature could have been made from toothpicks and cotton balls and then photoshopped on top of this field, which could be anywhere in the world there is grass. Not only is this bullshit, but it’s poorly rendered bullshit, and you lot swallowed it hook, line, and sinker!”

“Wow, you really are a bitch, aren't you?” Andrew rose, brushing the leaves from his designer cargo pants. “Just because you can’t see the possibilities doesn't mean we are wrong. Bigfoot’s out there and we’re going to find him.”

“What will you do then?” Melody called to him as he walked away.

“What do you think? After we've made our million, sell him to the highest bidder, of course.”

Shaking her head, she scanned the file a final time before returning it to the equipment tent. The moon sat high in the sky, cooling the humid air and encouraging the mosquitos to feast on the human interlopers. She took it as a sign to head to bed. Conversation stopped as she passed the sputtering campfire, but she ignored the hateful glares. She hadn't been hired to be their buddy. Her role was that of the dissenting opinion on a show that teetered on the verge of cancellation. The more they despised her, the greater the tension and higher the ratings. It sounded ridiculous but the network executives assured her it worked. Melody bid the crew a good night and retreated to her tent. She doused the light before changing into cotton sleep shorts and a black tank top with a built-in bra. Probably not a good idea to provide an impromptu shadow peep-show on a family program. The quiet murmur of the men lulled her to sleep within minutes.

The following morning dawned gloomy, humid, and oppressively hot. Low rumbles of thunder rolled in the distance, signaling an incoming storm that would put their tent stakes to the test. As Melody secured her journal and cell phone inside a waterproof bag, she hoped Terry’s tent withstood the storm. Otherwise, that new camera would come out of his severance pay. She liked the stern, older man. He was one of the few on the team who didn't see her as some sort of threat to his masculinity. He was also quite popular with the female audience, resembling a cross between Sean Connery and Harrison Ford. She was certain there were several smitten women who would hate to see him leave.

She rolled up her sleeping bag, grabbed her clothes and toiletries, and headed for the small stream they’d passed on their way in. The men were arguing over the portable shower, the heat and humidity already wearing on their short tempers, and she shared an amused look with Terry as she passed. He would read them the riot act once she was out of sight, salvaging their egos even as he took them down a peg or three. Though she was never out of hearing range, she played it cool upon her return which soothed them that much more. Maybe they would make it through the first day without a fight.

The water was deliciously cold, raising the hair on her arms and turning her nipples into hard, crinkled points. Abandoning modesty for cleanliness, she stripped off the shorts and top and waded into the shallow stream. Melody washed away a day of hiking and setting up camp, and a night of sweating in the still air of the tent. She rinsed her sleep clothes, turned to hang them on a nearby branch, and looked straight into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

She pulled the washcloth to her chest in an effort to hide her nakedness, but succeeded in barely covering one generous breast. A scream lodged somewhere between her stomach and her throat. Melody opened her mouth to set it free, but it refused to surface and left her gaping like a fish. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that it probably wasn't her best or most intelligent look.

The creature’s green eyes roamed her body with such intensity that she swore she felt it in a physical sense. Her heart raced. Her nipples, those fickle things, throbbed to feel more than his gaze. Moisture pooled between her thighs. Her breath came in gasps. As she fought the urge to go to the creature, the intense green eyes were gone. In leaving, they returned her sanity.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Melody muttered as she stepped from the stream. “I got turned on by some strange peeping-tom creature in the middle of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere. My best friend was right; I really need to get laid.”

Dressing quickly in jeans and a t-shirt, she grabbed her toiletries and returned to camp. She also thought of those piercing green eyes that seemed to look straight into her soul. A bunch of metaphysical horseshit, she was certain, but that’s exactly what it had felt like. If she was romantically inclined, she would say it was like finding one’s soulmate – an instant recognition of one’s perfect match. Melody tossed her gear into the tent with a snort. Just my luck! My so-called perfect match just happens to be some pervert in the deep south, or worse, some furry animal with astonishingly green eyes. Fuck my life.

She tugged her socks and hiking boots on, and stomped towards the camp’s make-shift kitchen. It had taken yelling, threats of bodily harm, and a meeting with the network’s lawyers to make the crew understand that she was not going to be the camp’s maid. They tested her the first two or three shows, leaving dirty pans on the stove or dishes in the sink. She took photographs of the mess, and then cooked her meal over the campfire. By the third meeting with the lawyers, which included threats of replacement, the crew learned she was serious. They still grumbled, but they cleaned up after themselves.

Whatever worked.

Melody checked the weather reports on her phone as she ate. The storm would hit later in the afternoon, and if the fates were kind, roll out in a couple of days. She jotted down the information so Terry could plan accordingly. This meant they would be here at least three days before they could really start the investigation. The crew were out hanging the sturdiest of their weather-resistant gear, but she doubted Terry would risk their best cameras in the coming storm. Sighing, she tossed her garbage in the bin, and froze for the second time that morning.

A large black bear stood just inside the clearing, the largest she had ever seen. What was she thinking? It was the first black bear she had ever seen outside of a zoo or an internet search. It didn't approach the encampment, nor did it pace along the wood’s edge. It simply stood there and seemed to be watching her. Was this her peeping tom from the stream? Did bears even have green eyes? And what the hell was it doing now?

The bear leaned against a tree, showing off his furry underbelly, incredibly long claws, and an impressively large cock. A really impressively large cock. Thick as a soda can and as long as her forearm, at least, the head glistened in the overcast sun. He wrapped a hairy paw around his thick cock, and gave it a single, slow stroke. He rumbled; she whimpered. His paw slid along his oddly human-looking cock, gripping the base, giving it a slight twist near the head – long, steady strokes that progressively grew faster the longer she watched.

Melody sank into a chair, and loosened her jeans. The bear grunted, slowing his strokes as her hand disappeared between her thighs. As she rubbed her clit, he matched his rhythm to hers – speeding up when she did, slowing down when she came too close to orgasm. Then he set the rhythm, his eyes daring her to match it. He rose to his feet as his black paw pumped his cock. He thrust into his strokes; his back pressed against the tree for leverage and support. She matched him stroke for stroke, her fingers sinking deep into her dripping pussy as she rubbed her clit with the heel of her palm. Her toes curled with her impending orgasm, heat flooded her body, and the blood rushed through her ears. She bit hard on her lip as her body shook, and come poured over her thrusting fingers. The bear echoed her release with a loud roar, his seed pulsing from his cock to splash onto a nearby fern. He dropped back onto all fours, back and shoulders heaving, and loped into the forest with a final roar.

“What the fuck just happened?” Melody yanked her hand from her jeans, and fastened them with a furious blush. Standing on rubbery legs, she took a quick look around the camp and then disappeared inside her tent. She prayed no one had been watching her.