Joe's round gut soaks in the warmth of the fire as he lifts the large stuffed head of a bear from its place hanging over the mantle. He sets it down and grabs a beer from his cooler under the floorboards. If the sky were brighter, he'd go to the effort of making some dinner from some venisen he shot, but a cool blue already owns the sky and is chilling the air outside, which would make his hairs stand on end. He'll probably just head out to the bar or pass out in the living room. He chugs his beer to help settle in. A pleasant warmth fills his body as he rubs his beer gut. It's been growing lately, and Joe thinks that he's going to be putting on a lot of beer pounds this winter. It been harder to get away from the bar without anyone to come home to. Dave has a woman he sees from time to time serving at the bar, and Quentin has his dog. Joe's been trying to pick up a girl to bring home for dinner, but none seem interested.
He picks up that old bear's head and admires the date on the back: November 13th, 2009. It's been nearly eight years since he shot that old bear. Pride forces a smile onto Joe's hairy face, flushed with booze. He chuckles at the memory of that night. He remembers his racing heart and the key motions when his rifle blasted the grizzly straight through. He was heavier than any tree he had carried before then. By the next day, Joe had the head professionally stuffed and mounted.
Joe chuckles again and starts pacing backwards towards his chair, eyes lost in that bear's face. His leg catches on the coffee table, causing his to stumble. He fumbles the bear's head into the air; Joe's ass plants back in the seat with too much force, knocking it over. A thunderous clamour and Joe was on the ground, the bear's head fell from the air onto Joe's head, inexplicably getting stuck over his. Almost like his head were through the plaque, Joe's head was one with the bear's.
Joe grunted as he stood back up, not noticing that changes were already beginning to set in. He rubbed his sore back groaning in a voice a bit deeper than his. His back grew under his widening hand. His flannel began to strain more than usual, becoming very uncomfortable very quickly. "What the hell?" A very low bass voice asks as Joe's shirt loses the entire lower half of its buttons to his inflating belly. His typical black hairs lighten to a rich brown, swiftly engulfing one of his arms whole. His hand starts shifting, his former calluses become rough black pads belonging on a bear. His furry belly becomes consumed in actual fur as he thickens and beefs up all over.
Joe's other arm takes on a bear's appearance, paws gripping at the trophy he now realizes is stuck on his head. The fly of his worn jeans bursts open, freeing up his lower gut. The sweaty boots he hadn't gotten the chance to remove yet strain and tear at the seams, revealing huge paws tipped with sharp, black claws. His waist widens, now straining the seams along the sides of his old jeans. A loud ripping sound accompanies a great release of pressure as Joe's hips are freed and the pants fall off. The tatters of his shirt and socks slip from his still-expanding body. Joe growls deeply as his head comes just a foot below the ceiling before the transformation stops. He grits his teeth and snaps off the trophy, completing his change into a grizzly bear.