Tag Archives: fanfic

[BearFic] “Summer Of ’85” (Chris Penn)

Summer Of ’85
-Chris Penn BearFic-

It was a scorching July summer day of ’85 when I found him lying unconscious near Old Hapgoody’s farm. Beside him was a tattered orange jumpsuit and I don’t need to tell you that he did not just leave from a Halloween party in a drunken stupor. Unless gunshots were involved, that was one heck of a monster bash.

I removed the dang textbooks I was carrying in my backpack (fuck you, Introduction to Biology!) as I stuffed in the big man’s orange uniform. I then wrapped my P.E. shirt on the man’s bleeding left leg. My batshit loony of a dad had actually taught me some useful things after all.

“Hey, mister.” I felt the man’s sweaty and thick back. “Mister, wake up.”

The man woke up, dizzy from the blood loss, while I helped him to his feet. He was heavy and I felt his heavy breathing. His burly arms around me made me feel funny down below.

It was a challenge, but we made it down to Hannigan’s Lake. Nobody ever came down here, so he should be good to go.

* * * * *

After some time, after my mom’s pills took their effect on the man, I returned with soap and my old man’s clothes. I found him sitting on a rock, barely moving at all.

“Hey, kid. Thanks.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to be tough and cool.

“Appreciate it, really, kid. I really do.”

I walked towards him and handed him a soap.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, kid. I’m not a good guy.”

“It’s okay. I’m not good, neither.”

The big man laughs while he shook my hand. “Thank you.”

I nodded then sat behind him. I could not help but stare and admire his wide back.

“Kid. You know what my old man used to tell me? ‘Son, God fucks us all up on all seasons. Especially, summer. He sits on his mighty throne and he burns us all like hapless ants.’ I never used to know what it meant, but I kinda understand it now. That old bastard, may God bless his soul…”

“You mean like with magnifying glass?” I stupidly replied, not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, sure, kid. With magnifying glass.”

The man starts to wash his hair with the soap and I was mesmerized at the moment. I was confused. I kinda forgot about Samantha. I did not know why.

“Kid. Don’t worry about it.”


“What you’re feeling. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You saved my life, so I’ll be straight with you… Ever heard of an ’empath’?”

I nodded “no.”

“I can read people’s emotions.”

What the fuck? I felt violated. I stood up and yelled, “I’m gonna call the cops. You can’t just do that!”

“Listen, kid. Calm down. Would you rather me not tell you?”

He made some sense. But I still felt violated. “Listen, I don’t like guys. I don’t even remotely find you attractive. I just feel sorry for you. Couldn’t your empath-thing be like broken or something?”

“Yes. It could be.”

There was a quiet moment when I burst out laughing. “Sir. I’m sorry. I think you’re right.”

“No shame in it. I’m like you, you know. Don’t worry though. I’m not into kids.”

I was a bit disappointed, but it appeared to be a summer when God and his magnifying glass appeared to have forgotten about me…

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[BearFic] “Texas Heat” (Joey Oglesby)

On occasions, I tend to get hit by the writing bug.  When I fantasize about bearish men, I tend to situate them in adventure/sci-fi/fantasy/horror settings.  Anyway, as I’ve been obssessing over Joey Oglesby lately, I ended up with this little piece of what I’d refer to as a “BearFic”…


Texas Heat
-Joey Oglesby BearFic-

It was just another scorching Texas day, and Tommy needed to buy some Fends.  They’ve been scarce lately and, if he did find some dealer, he would not have enough trash for bartering.  Luckily for Tommy, on this February day, he managed to bully a couple of moronic couple out of their broken sportswatches and a sturdy Winchester as they were walking down 87 on their way to Amarillo.  Stupid, stupid people.  What the hell did they expect to find there?  Tommy’s been there, and there was nothing left except for the stench of barbecued flesh.

He was in Slaton when he found the code tattooed on the left forearm of what looked like a young woman in her twenties.  A user, definitely.  He had learned the secret codes of the dealers.  They advertised their wares on the bodies of the careless users of their products.  Ineffective, for sure, but what else can any self-serving entrepreneur do in this god-forsaken desert landscape?

Tommy wrote down the code in his tattered memobook that’s about to run out of pages.  The code was somewhat tough to crack, but he eventually got directions to Littlefield.  Not bad.  He’d make it in two days…

* * * * *

Surprisingly, Littlefield appeared to be untouched by the infection.  It reminded Tommy of his childhood in What-The-Fuck-Was-That-Town, Suburbia.  He hated that time but often wished that he was still there, wearing Private School uniforms.

He found the house and made sure to walk in carefully as these dealers tend to be trigger-happy.  He knocked on the door and Tommy almost lost it when out came a beautiful man.  The man was just wearing jeans and he was smoking a Newport.  Tommy instantly knew the scent of that menthol.  Where the hell did he get that?


“I haven’t seen you around,” he said.

Tommy was at a loss for words.  All he could do was stare at this amazing body.  How he longed for human touch.  How he longed the embrace of a man.  And in front of him was a man he truly desired.  He could smell his musky scent and his loin started to throb as he could see beads of sweat on the man’s chest and gut.

The man got impatient and lifted both arms up to rest them on the door, revealing his armpits.  Tommy could not help but stare at such a pose.


“Listen.  I don’t have time for this.  You here for something.”

Tommy finally got the energy to say, “Fends.  Found your code.  I got things that might interest you.”

“Well, then, that’s much better.  Not too hard now, ain’t it?  Come inside.”


Tommy walked in, mesmerized by the man’s walk.  He was aching and wanted to reach out and feel the man’s shoulders.

The man went up the stairs then came back down after a few minutes.  His jeans were gone and he was just wearing white underwear.  Fuck me, Tommy thought.


“Look, I just wanted to make sure that you know that I ain’t packing.  So be a good boy and put that Winchester on the floor.  We’ll make this transaction smooth,” the man explained.


Tommy dutifully obeyed and placed the Winchester on the floor.

“I’m just tired of it, you know.  People pretending to have things.  They then think that they’re John Wayne and next thing you know there’s a fucking shootout.”  The man breathed in deeply while Tommy observed how his gut heaved in and out.  “I’m just sick of that.  Sick of it.”


“That’s all I’m here for.  Fends.”  Tommy nervously said.

The man stared at Tommy for awhile then said, “Look, I may be selling them, but I do have a conscience.  Hold on, let me make you a drink.”

Tommy watched the man walk to the kitchen and all he could think about was the perfect build of this masculine man.  He watched him blend a drink and all Tommy could think about was being in bed with him.  He wondered what it would feel like to lay his cheek on his chest.


The man returned, pouring Tommy a drink.  “I gotta tell you, that right there is the best shit.  Hatches down, my friend.”


Tommy drank and was instantly cooled from the desert heat and from his intense attraction.  And as he drank, he kept looking at the man’s beer belly.  It was just so perfect.


“Listen, kid.  Like I said, I have a conscience.  I want to make sure that you really want this.  I’m sure you know, but if you take the wrong dosage, well…”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m not here to use it though.”

The man looked at Tommy suspiciously.  “Oh yeah?  What you in here for, anyways?”

Tommy lied.  He was here to buy some Fends.  He wanted to buy as much as he could.  He already had 19 packets in his backpack.  He planned on getting 20 packets so that he would leave the world in unbelievable ecstasy back in Lubbock.  But his plans have now changed.  In front of him was a man that he will try to win his affections to.

“I’d like to work for you.  I’ll protect you.  I’m a good fighter.”

The man laughed.  “Look, kid.  I work alone.  Unless you actually have Fends to give me, then probably we could…”

Tommy quickly grabbed his backpack and dropped the contents on the table.  There was a mixture of top quality red Fenders, medium quality brown ones, and the Holy Grail of them all: black Fenders.

“Jesus, kid.  Um, well.  Seems like you’re also good at doing business.”  The man looked at Tommy and he wished that he was interested in him.  “Seems like we got a deal.”


Tommy finished off his drink and felt that he had a renewed lease in life in this dead lonestar state.

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