Greg was grateful for Charlie. After Greg had been kicked out of his home by his ex-girlfriend, Charlie had been there for him.
"The spare room's yours," he'd said, "Stay as long as you like". And Charlie lived in a nice apartment. The spare room was bigger than Greg's old bedroom.
That said, Charlie was a complete bore. He spent most of his day at work, he never had the energy to go out in the evening and he was always there to frown upon Greg's behaviour.
Beggars can't be choosers, Greg decided.
Greg's cut stopped bleeding soon afterward. Upon inspection, it wasn't half as bed as it felt. To be safe, Greg put a band-aid on it.
He went to his room, undressed to his underwear and crawled into his unmade bed.
He began to consider Charlie's words. What if the hooker hadn't been a hooker after all? Had he made a terrible mistake?
He pushed all worry from his mind. But he couldn't get the girl out of his head. She had been more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen.
Just thinking about her accent made his spine shiver. And he couldn't stop picturing those hot pants. And then he couldn't stop imagining what had been beneath them.
He felt more aroused than he'd ever felt before. Even including puberty, and he had had a lot of sex in high school.
He thought for a second how Charlie might react if he overheard. But he'd done it every night so far and Charlie had not yet complained.
So he kept the fantasy of her in his head, pulled his boxers down to his knees and began to run his fingers up and down his cock.
It had never felt so good. He was alive with feeling.
He felt so explosive. He was huge and powerful. He was strong and muscular. And he was sweating with the heat.
The feeling burst out of him and it was gone. He purred to himself for a moment, relishing in what had just happened. Whatever he'd done differently, he'd done right and he'd have to do it again.
Ready for sleep, he reached down to pull his boxers back on.
But he couldn't find them. His legs were completely naked. He fumbled about but could not find his underwear amongst the bedsheets.
He growled in annoyance. It didn't make any sense. Where could they have gone?
And that wasn't all that felt wrong. His legs were weird and the bed was too small. He felt somehow fat and muscled at the same time.
He would have to switch the light on.
But when he got up from his bed he found walking to be very difficult. He felt drunk and almost fell once or twice. And when he fumbled for the light switch it was though his arm wasn't quite as mobile as it had been.
Was he ill? Had he been drugged? Was it bloodloss?
On the fifth lurch, his hand made contact with the switch and the lights came on. But his room didn't look the same way it did earlier.
Everything was the same, but looked different somehow.
His bed was a mess, as to be expected, but his boxers were worse. It was as though they'd been shredded and the buttons had snapped away.
Greg felt sick. He needed help.
"Charlie?" Greg called.
He fumbled with the door. When he got it open, he fell into the hall with it and landed on all fours.
"Charlie!"
He crawled into the living room, suddenly aware how his knees weren't touching the floor like they should have been.
"What's going on? Why are you-?"
Charlie entered tying up his robe and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Shit...!"
Greg was completely oblivious to Charlie's convulsions of fear.
"That robe is for a woman" he pointed out.
Charlie blinked.
"G...Greg? That's you?"
"Uh, duh!"
"What happened to you?"
"Jee-sus, I told you. I picked up this bitch downtown and-"
"Not the cut, you idiot, you...you...you're not looking yourself," he finished weakly.
"I dunno, I'm startin' to feel alright," Greg grunted, "Oh, geez, sorry about the nudity, man, my boxers kinda ripped"
"Uh, that's fine," Charlie stammered. Then, seeing sense, he gathered up some strength sand came out with it.
"Greg, you're a bear"
Greg paused. He drew himself up on his hind legs and looked Charlie squarely in the eyes.
"A bear?"
"A very big, black, grizzly bear. That talks"
Greg scratched his muzzle, then became aware that shouldn't have a muzzle. He caught sight of large black paw and the velocity of Charlie's claim hit him.
"How the fuck did that happen?" He observed.
"You tell me"
"It just happened. One minute I was me. The next I was this"
"You didn't do anything?"
"No, Charlie. I don't have any radioactive materials or genetically engineered bears in my room!"
"I'm sorry, okay! I'm just trying to work out how this happened" Charlie put his hands over his face in exasperation. Greg, somewhat bored, began to absently scratch his balls. Claws made it so much easier.
"What's the last thing you can remember doing as a human?"
Greg thought.
"Masturbating"
"What!?" Charlie exclaimed, "On my sheets!?"
"Dude," Greg sighed, "So not the priority right now"