Date: Sun, 4 Nov 2007 23:11:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Ricky J <rickyjey13@yahoo.com>
Subject: Give and Take

       Disclaimer: This story may not be reproduced without permission of
the author.  This story is a piece of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
people or events is purely coincidental and highly unlikely.  Also, don't
read the story if you're under 18, offended by sexually suggestive and
explicit situations involving two men or if the laws of your area prevent
the reading of such material.  Otherwise: enjoy!  Comments and/or criticism
are much appreciated.

			       Give and Take
				By Ricky J

      Mark was in control.  His arm was bent at a comfortable angle, the
muscles pulled taut but not really strained.  Only a few beads of sweat
peppered his forehead and dampened the edge of his thick, dark hair.  His
eyes were steady and there was a small smile on his face.  At any moment,
he could bring his arm down and end this.  He was in control.

      The guy across the table, whose name was Chaz or something, wasn't
faring as well.  His face was contorted with effort, his skin red.

      A small crowd of gym rats had gathered to watch the show.  Mark
yawned audibly, earning a number of grins from his adoring audience.  Chaz,
meanwhile, was putting all his effort into the actual act of arm wrestling,
not that it was doing him any good.  While Mark's arm was stationary, his
was shaking, trying its hardest to gain some leverage, to push Mark's arm
down even a tiny bit.  His forearms were quivering with effort and veins
were popping out everywhere, but Mark's arm refused to budge.  Around the
table men laughed and shouted encouragement.  Mark smiled at them, paying
no notice to Chaz's grunts of protest.  But he had to end it sometime.
This was getting dull.

      Mark lowered his arm a couple of inches.  Chaz's face tightened.  He
grunted.  Mark smiled and pushed Chaz's arm down another couple of inches.
Chaz bit his lower lip.

      Mark raised an eyebrow.  "Three..."  Chaz gave a prolonged groan.
"Two..."  He put his whole body into it.  "One!"

      BAM!  The table shook under Chaz's hand.  Cheers broke out.  There
were smatterings of applause.  Mark stood up and flexed his arms.  A few
men whooped as his biceps exploded upward and outward.  Mark caught a
glimpse of Chaz shaking out his hand.  He turned around to give the men a
view of his broad back, struck another pose, and grinned.

      "Big Mark!" one of the men said.  Mark turned around.

      "Alright, show's over boys.  Hope you all had fun, especially you,
buddy..."  He threw an arm around Chaz, who winced.  "Anybody else wants to
lose some money to me just get behind the others!  I feel bad about putting
you all in the gutter and everything, but, well, you're the ones thick
enough to keep taking me on!"  Some of the men laughed; others rolled their
eyes.  "You can pay up anytime you like, Chaz."

      "It's Chad."

      "Whatever.  Anytime."  He gave Chad's shoulder a small squeeze and
lowered his voice.  "Anytime at all."

      Mark walked into the crowd of men to exchange high-fives and the
occasional chest butt.  He looked around and liked what he saw: a pack of
young, muscular men, their bodies alive with the vigor of an evening's
workout.  All eyes were turned to him, some of them hungry, some of them
disgusted, all of them compelled.  Mark struck another double bicep pose
and the crowd obediently cheered.  They were his boys and he was their
keeper, the owner of their playground, and the object of their fantasies.

      Mark barely noticed as some of the other men started wandering
towards the locker rooms.  They'd seen this act before.  "Alright, boys!"
Mark bellowed.  "It's closing time!  All of you get your stuff and get out.
God, don't you have jobs you've gotta be up for?"  The remaining men
laughed.  Mark swept his thick arms dramatically.  "Go!  To the locker
rooms with ya!  You'll all get a chance to take me on sooner or later!
Does anyone know if Chaz is still here?"

      A man spoke up.  "He already hit the rooms.  Probably nursing that
arm!"  More laughter.

      "He put up a good fight, that boy.  He's still gotta pay up though!
Okay, stop standing around!  Go home, ya fuckers!  Go!"

      Mark walked through the throng, knocking aside the shoulders of a few
men as he made his way towards his office.  The group of men finally
started to dissipate.  A few talked as they moved towards the locker rooms;
more looked at themselves in the mirror.  Mark smiled silently to himself.
`Always leave em' wanting more': that was his motto.  Well, it was one of
them.  He was also fond of `might make right' and `no pain, no gain'.  He
was a sucker for mottos that rhymed.

      Mark's office was in the corner of the gym.  It was fitted with a
large glass window so Mark could survey the gym while doing paperwork and
thick blinds he could shut if he wanted to be left alone.  It also had a
large couch.  Mark walked by the couch and opened the top drawer of his
desk.  He began to file away some papers into it when there was a knock at
the open door.  Mark looked up.

      "Mark.  Mr. Ramden.  Hey."

      Mark stopped shuffling papers.  "Hey, James."

      James was new to the gym, but Mark had kept an eye on him.  The kid
was gorgeous; light brown hair fell softly about his boyish face and
occasionally hid one of his big brown eyes.  Right now, standing in the
doorway, Mark got a full look at his sculpted upper body, his chest pushing
firmly against his tank-top and his abs just standing out under the fabric.
He couldn't see it now, but James had a killer butt as well.  Mark had been
distracted all day by the bounce of it as James went from exercise to
exercise, had studied it from his office as James did squats.  He had
barely touched his paperwork.

      Mark shut the drawer to his desk.  "What can I do for you?"

      "Oh nothing.  I mean, I don't need a favor or anything."  James wrung
his hands together and glanced at the ceiling.  "I just, uh, thought
I'd... congratulate you.  You really handed it to Chad over there.  And he
thought he could beat you... heh."

      Mark moved towards the doorway.  Close up, he saw that James was a
few inches shorter than him.  He liked that.  "Not many who can beat me,
I'm afraid.  Not that it stops em' from trying."  He was only a few feet
away from James now.  "These guys are gluttons for punishment."

      James stole a quick look at one of Mark's massive arms.  "I'll
bet... So, uh, this is a nice office.  Where'd you get that desk?"

      "James," Mark interrupted, "Are you a glutton for punishment?"

      James averted Mark's eyes.  His cheeks developed a red tint.
"I... uh, I wouldn't be, y'know, much of a challenge..."

      "A challenge isn't always what I need.  Sometimes it's fun to
just..."  Mark raised a muscled arm. "...take control.  Know what I mean?"

      James silently stared at Mark's arm as he curled it into a flex.
Mark leaned in close.  "You know, the gym's technically closed for the
night.  Plenty of space to play."  He put a hand on James' shoulder.  "You
feel like playing?"

      James stared for a moment longer, then blinked and backed out of the
doorway as if coming out of a trance.  Mark frowned and lowered his arm.
"Uh, thanks.  But actually not so much.  I mean, I'd LIKE to..."  Here
James eyed Mark's arm again.  "but not so quick.  I mean, what I came here
for was to ask you if you wanted to... to grab a bite to eat sometime.
Maybe this weekend?"  The last part tumbled quickly out of James' mouth.  A
tight lipped smile immediately broke onto his face.  He was looking Mark in
the eye now.

      Mark slackened his posture and frowned.  That had felt like a
score... "Uh, thanks a lot James."  He started to back up towards his desk.
"But I think I'm busy this weekend.  I've got... a business trip... that's
pretty important.  So, maybe some other time."  Mark took a last glance at
James' body.  God, those were nice legs.  A shame their owner was such a
prude.

      Mark began to turn around, but James kept talking.  "Are you sure?  I
mean, I think we'd have a good time."  Mark looked again.  James' legs were
hard and lean, and the bulge of his crotch was tantalizingly visible
through the tight fabric of his shorts.  This guy shouldn't be passed up.

      "Well, do you think we might have a... friendly wrestling match or
something afterwards?  Just for fun?"

      "I don't like to... wrestle... too soon."  Mark's frown returned.
"But, I dunno, maybe.  It's just that... well, it's just that I really
wouldn't be any challenge to you.  I mean, you're pretty damn strong."

      This perked Mark up immediately.  "You got that right!" he said with
a grin.  "You know I've owned this place for four years and no matter how
many guys challenge me I always completely work em' over.  Kinda
disappointing to tell you the truth."  He had moved closer to James again,
who was now smiling.

      "I'm not surprised.  I mean, man, Mark, with a body like that I'm
surprised anyone would even agree to go up against you.  Did you wrestle in
school?"

      Mark obediently spread his arms and smiled.  "High school and
college.  Always first in my weight class, too.  I even considered going
pro, but y'know you don't really get to test your strength doing that; it's
all just a show."  Mark flexed his arm and eyed his own bicep intently.
"I'm happier here.  I've wrestled many a fit guy and no one's beaten me
yet.  As far as I know, I'm the best wrestler in the country."

      "Do you ever... wish you could find a challenge?"

      "I'd love one!  I'm just starting to think there aren't any out
there.  I mean, four years in the winner's circle will do that to ya."

      "I'm sure there's someone out there who would put up a good fight..."
James' eyes lit up.  "In fact, I might be able to hook you up.  I know a
guy..."

      Mark raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah?"

      "I think so.  Well, I don't actually know him myself, but a while
back I had a friend; a really good wrestler, built like a fucking ox, who
went up against this guy.  He came back bruised all over; he wouldn't even
talk about it.  He never said exactly what happened, but I could tell he
was just pissed about losing.  He went back a bunch of times and every time
he came back so sore he couldn't sit down for a week.  Whoever this guy is
he knows how to work someone over."

      Mark was smiling widely now.  He felt his dick harden a little under
his briefs.  This guy was probably a real bruiser, a big bull of a man who
thought he was the toughest guy on the planet.  Just imagine!  When Mark
bent this guy backward over his knee, when he locked him between his legs,
when he made every muscled inch of him squirm in his grip.  Ooh, the guy
would bow to him.  His dick kept growing, nearly popping out of his shorts.
It would be great!

      "You're not shitting me, James?  You think this guy would put up a
real fight?"

      "It's worth a try, isn't it?  I've think I've got his address
somewhere at home.  I think I still have my... friend's address book."
James broke eye contact with Mark for a moment.  Mark used the time to eye
the boy's crotch.  "But yeah, if you like I can look him up for you."

      Mark clapped James hard on the back.  "Yeah, get me this guy's
number!  It's been a LONG time since I've had an interesting match."  Mark
turned around and walked over to his desk.  He dug out a piece of paper and
a pencil and scribbled something.  "Here.  Take my number."  He handed it
to a beaming James.  "And call me with the info.  And then maybe..."  James
looked up.  "...we can talk about dinner next weekend."

      James clutched the paper tightly.  His eyes bounced around the room
for a moment before locking onto Mark's.  "Sure!"  He paused.  "Thanks,
Mark!  I'll, uh, look this up later tonight.  And, then, uh, and
then... y'know."  He fidgeted in place.  "Well, I'd better go.  The place
is closed and, and everything.  Night!"

      James turned on his heel and skipped out of the office.  Mark tilted
his head to watch.  God, the kid's ass was perfect, and even better in
motion.  Mark kept watching until James disappeared into the locker rooms.
Finally, he turned back to his desk and shoved the rest of his paperwork
into the open drawer.  He put his hands on the edge of his desk and smiled.
Four years and not a loss yet.  They all fell, no matter how strong they
came on.  Mark didn't mind.  The stronger, the bigger, the cockier they
were, the more satisfying it was when they gasped for mercy in Mark's arms.

      --

      Mark slapped himself.  Once, twice, three times across the cheek.  He
reached down to turn up the radio volume in his car.  Static.  Next
channel, static.  Next channel, country, nearly drowned out by static.  So
this was what nowhere sounded like.

      Mark glanced out his window at another endless wall of crops, one of
the many he had been sandwiched between on his drive today.  This, he
reminded himself, is why he hated leaving the city.  Nothing but
never-ending fields of barley or wheat or whatever.  And while he'd only
been traveling for a little over three hours, Mark felt like it had been
days.  With nothing but the landscape and country stations to distract him,
he got bored easily.

      Mark looked down at the map James had printed for him.  It took him
to the end of Baremont Rd., a few miles off the highway, then stopped.  His
ultimate destination was, according to James, "a little off the beaten
path."  Mark had scoffed at the time, pointing out loud what a bitch it was
going to be to find a house not on a main road, but now he welcomed the
inconvenience; anything was better than field after field of green nothing.

      "Hey..."  Mark eased up on the gas.  Was that...?  Yep.  Baremont
Road.  Off the highway at last.

      As his Hummer rolled over the weather-beaten road, Mark thought about
his destination.  James had called him up at home a few nights prior with
the information.  "Mr. Ramden!"  He had been so excited.  "Hey!  I found
this guy's contact information.  I wasn't sure if it would be there, but I
looked and there it was!"

      "Great, Jimmy, great.  Why don't you give me the guy's number?"

      "Uh... okay, sure.  Only... he doesn't really have a number."

      Mark frowned.  "Doesn't have a number...?"

      "Well, I've got his address, and I've got a number, but I don't think
he actually has a number in his house.  He lives kinda... in isolation
somewhere."  Mark's frown deepened.  If this kid had been leading him on...
"But I've got the place where he hangs out.  Some bar.  What my friend used
to do was call this place up and ask for `the bear'.  That's how he set up
the meetings."

      Mark rapped his fingers on the edge of his kitchen table.  "The
bear..."  James made a tiny squeak of affirmation.  "You want me to call up
some bar and ask for `the bear' and then MAYBE I'll get to talk to this guy
and set something up."

      Mark could almost see James nervously twirling the telephone cord.
"Well, I mean... it always worked for my friend..."

      Mark sighed.  This was a waste of his time.  "Listen, James..."

      "I found a picture!"  James interrupted him.  "There's was a picture
of the guy with the address.  He's... he's wearing a mask in it, but it
gives you a great idea of what he looks like.  You want me to send it to
you?"

      "...fine."  He gave James his e-mail address and waited.  In moments
there was a new message.  He opened the attached file and raised the phone
to his lips. "James," he said, "give me that number."

      The road ended.  Nothing but a rough dirty field in front of him now.
Mark stopped the car and leaned over the steering wheel.

      It was midday.  The spring sky was blue and there was barely a cloud
to be seen.  The sun behind him, Mark could scan the horizon without having
to squint.  The crop-fields were gone; he was looking at a vast expanse of
rocky terrain, peppered by a tree here and there and what looked like a
sparse forest in the distant background.  Then he saw it.  Directly under
one of the few puffy clouds in the sky stood a small house, a vertical
break in the landscape.  It was the only structure Mark could see for
miles.  He moved on.

      After a minute of off-road driving, Mark arrived in front of the
building.  It was simple.  Standing two stories tall, it squatted above the
dirty expanse around it.  The walls were a brownish-yellow color; from a
distance it looked made of earth.  There were few windows, and only one
door.  A rusty pickup truck was parked on its side.  On the other side
there was a small flower garden.

      Mark got out of his Hummer.  He took the opportunity to stretch,
throwing his arms to the sky and letting out a long-confined moan.  His
thick arms, popping out of the sleeves of his tee-shirt, clenched and
unclenched with power.  He shook himself out before walking to the front
door.  He was about to knock when he saw a note: `Mr. Ramden, please come
in and head to the basement.  The stairs are through the living room on the
left side'.  It was signed: `The Bear'.

      Mark scoffed.  He had had some weird experiences wrestling random
men.  One guy had greeted him in a superhero costume, mask and all, and
invited him down to "the lair" for the fight.  Another had insisted that
they break into a high school at night so they could wrestle in a
gymnasium, and there had been several who had just never answered the door,
either because they were out or because they were too nervous to move.
Frustrating as it could be, Mark liked the variety fighting blind could
provide.  But it still could piss him off.  He hated taking orders.  He
tore the note off the door and went inside.

      The inside of the house was neater than a look at the outside would
have suggested.  It was sparse: the front room held only an easy chair, a
small end table with a lamp perched on top, a coffee table and a bookshelf.
To his left was a wooden doorframe that looked to lead to a small kitchen;
Mark thought he saw a backdoor at the far end of the kitchen.  There was
little decoration anywhere, but everything was tidy and neat.  The stairs
leading to the second floor were directly in front of him.  He turned and
walked through the front room and into a small hallway.  On the second door
to his left hung a note: `Basement'.

      Mark opened the door and began to walk down the stairs.  They
immediately creaked in protest.  Mark involuntarily lifted his foot before
continuing.  He couldn't help it if he had 215 pounds of muscle on him.
The old wooden stairs would just have to deal with it.  He reached the
bottom of the stairs and turned around to look at the surprisingly spacious
room.  He smiled.  The bear had set up a wrestling ring, ropes and all, at
the back of the basement.  A pair of dark blue mats served as the ring's
floor.  Four posts, each thickly padded, were stationed at the four
corners, with red ropes pulled taut between them.  Mark bent under the top
rope and stepped into the ring.  He jumped up and down a few times, testing
the mat's resistance.  This guy had a nice set-up.

      The basement door banged shut and the top step shrieked under a heavy
weight.  Mark saw a boot appear at the top of the stairs.  White, with a
yellow stripe.  The bottom of a yellow robe came into view.  As the owner
made his way slowly down the stairs, Mark had to catch his breath.  The
bear was huge.  Mark guessed that the man was at least an inch taller than
him, and his chest looked to have more girth.  Soon, the bear reached the
bottom of the stairs and turned towards Mark, his eyes barely visible
beneath the yellow wrestling mask that covered his head.  Only his mouth,
which was surrounded by a tightly cropped brown beard, was completely
visible.  He stepped towards the ring.

      Mark gulped back a small whimper before putting on his game face.  He
put his hands on his hips and smirked.  "So, you're the bear?  You ready to
submit for me?"  The bear said nothing.  "I feel like this has been a long
time coming.  God knows you're a hard man to meet."  The bear entered the
ring.  As he put his leg under the rope, Mark got a view of a hairy,
muscular thigh.  "Not the talkative type?"  The bear stood up.  Mark had to
tilt his head slightly to look the bear in the eye.  "Guess not."

	The bear stood immobile, saying nothing.  Mark started to open his
mouth, but stopped himself and just grinned.  Slowly, Mark crossed his arms
over his torso and gripped the edges of his tee.  He pulled it over his
body, revealing his rippling abs and chest bit by bit before pulling the
shirt over his head and tossing it out of the ring.  He ran a hand over his
cool, hairless body, running it over the deep valleys of his chest and
stomach.  After flipping off his shoes, Mark undid his belt and began to
slide his jeans down his legs, making sure the bear could appreciate every
inch of his massive, smooth thighs.  Tossing his pants over the edge of the
ring, Mark stood up to his full height in nothing but his blue speedo, his
thick cock stretching the fabric to its limits.  He put his hands on his
hips, his chest jumping to attention in front of him.  "You ready?"

	Mark was pleased when the bear didn't respond.  The man's eyes were
busy wandering over Mark's body.  Mark turned around and spread out his
arms, giving the bear a view of his sinuous back and perfectly chiseled
butt.  He even performed a small squat, knowing that the line of the speedo
would creep ever-so-slightly down on his ass.  "You okay over there, buddy?
Still up for this?"

	Mark turned around in time to see the bear fling off his robe.  It
crumpled into a yellow pile at his feet, and it was all Mark could look at
to avoid gasping at what it revealed.  The bear looked to be made of rock.
His chest was a pair of mountains, each covered in forests of dark hair
that ran down through his bulbous, granite stomach and under the fabric of
his bright yellow speedo.  His body was not as defined as Mark's; not so
expertly chiseled and shaped, but everything was bigger.  The bear's
shoulders were as broad as any Mark had ever seen, and his thighs looked
capable of crushing a bowling ball.  Mark didn't tear his eyes away from
the bear's body until...

      "Mr. Ramden."  The bear lowered his eyes.  Mark jerked his head to
meet them.  "Are you ready to begin?"

      Mark had to shake himself to attention.  "Yeah, yeah..."  His eyes
darted around the bear's body.  "Yeah... wait.  Your boots."  The bear
looked at his feet.  "You should take them off.  I don't have any."

      The bear looked at Mark for a moment before nodding.  He bent over
and slipped off the boot on his right foot.  Mark moved forward.  The bear
had just finished slipping off his left boot when...

      Bam!  Mark slammed his elbow down on the bear's back.  With a grunt,
the big man hit the mat face-first.  Mark immediately straddled the bear,
sitting in the small of his back and placing his hands underneath the
bear's chin.  He pulled with all his might.

      "Ahhhg!"  The bear let out a yell of surprise.  Mark used his legs to
hold the bear's arms in place and continued to pull with everything he had.
He grinned as he saw the bear's enormous back muscles ripple and contort in
an attempt to resist his camel clutch.

      "Like that, do ya?"  Mark gave another tug.  "Lot a good that big
entrance did ya, huh?  Struttin' in here like a champ.  Well now you're as
helpless as a baby, and believe me, boy, I'm nowhere near done with you!"
Mark released his grip on the bear's chin and listened with satisfaction to
the thud that followed.  He grabbed the bear's shoulders and started to
flip him over.  "Now let's see what we can't do about your front..."

      The bear's arm flew out of nowhere, catching Mark in the neck and
knocking him onto the mat.  Mark barely had time to blink before he felt a
pair of pair of massive hands wrap around his lower legs and pull.  Pain
exploded from Mark's lower back as the bear stretched him in a vicious
Boston crab.  Mark pawed at the ground, trying to get a grip on something
he could use to pull himself out, but there was nothing.  He groaned in
pain.  "Fucker!"

      The bear grunted.  He began to bob up and down, each bounce eliciting
a fresh groan of pain from Mark.  "Oh!... fuck!... gah!..."  Mark pounded
his fists on the ground.  "Stop right now, you fucking bitch!"

      Mark's legs hit the ground as the bear stood up.  He swiveled on the
mat and threw a hand behind himself to nurse his throbbing back.  The bear
stood above him, a monstrous mass of muscle.  From this angle, Mark
couldn't help but notice the bear's thick cock pushing on the edge of his
speedo.  Mark glared at the bear and stood up.

      "That was dirty fighting, boy."  The bear's voice was deep and low.
"I don't wanna see that again, ya hear?"

      Mark continued to glare.  "Whatever."  He raised his arms into a
grappling stance.  The bear followed suit.

      The men began to circle each other.  Mark ran his eyes over the
bear's body, looking for any sudden movement that would tip him off as to
the bear's next move.  Eventually the two men locked eyes.  Mark silently
wished the bear's eyes weren't partly obscured by that mask; he kept
himself ready.  This guy was strong; that much was certain.  And fast,
faster than Mark would have expected of someone so big.  But he had to have
a weak spot; everybody did.  Mark flashed back briefly to his other fights,
which invariably ended with Mark standing over the naked, fetal body of
whatever stud he had just fought, taking the time to enjoy his victory.  It
was never very difficult: the boy would put up a fight, but his fists would
bounce off Mark's chest and his holds would break under Mark's arms.  This
man was no different.  It was just a matter of...

      Suddenly the bear took a lightning-quick step forward and wrapped his
thick hands around Mark's shoulders.  Mark gasped before immediately
reacting in kind.  He instinctively crocked his legs and braced himself
against the floor, preparing for the bear's push.  It came quickly: the
enormous man slowly lowered himself onto Mark, bending Mark's rippling
frame over backwards until the dumbfounded wrestler was forced to shift his
footing, shuffling away from his opponent.

      "Urrghhh..."  Mark groaned with effort as he tried to push back.  He
threw his entire upper body into the task, struggling against the onslaught
until his arms were ribboned with veins, but it was no use.  He dropped to
one knee.

      "Errrghm..."  The bear loomed above him.  "Fuck... you..."  Mark
coiled his body into a taut rubber band.  This had gone on long enough.  He
whirled around under the bear's grip in an attempt to escape, and sure
enough, the big man lost his grip on Mark's shoulders.  But Mark was left
vulnerable.  It was only moments before he found himself on his back, the
bear's knees planted on either side of him.  Before he could make an
escape, two powerful arms reached around his head and pulled him into a
sleeper hold.

      Mark felt his body curve into a playground slide, and there was
little he could do about it.  The bear had power unlike anyone Mark had
ever faced.  His grip was like a bear trap, and the bicep pressing against
Mark's neck felt like stone.  Mark gritted his teeth and attempted to pull
the bear off him with his powerful arms, but the grip would not loosen.
Moments later he felt a warm breath on his ear.

      "I'm not sure I like your tone, boy."  The bear was whispering, his
voice low and menacing.  "No reason to make this any harder than it already
is.  Now, let's see how much fight you got in ya."  The bear clamped down
anew.

      Mark wriggled in the bear's grip but couldn't manage to break free.
He growled out of the corner of his mouth, clutched at the bear's arms in
an attempt to pry them away, but they held firm as rock.  "Ugghh..."  Mark
felt the feeling begin to drain away from his fingers.  No... His hands
were becoming numb.  Darkness was closing in.  No... this was impossible.
This had never happened.  Not to him.  He bobbed his head up and down,
kicked his legs.  The darkness was getting closer.  Impossible...

      "Uh!"  Mark's head hit the mat with a thud.  The bear had released
him.  Mark could faintly make out the bear's heavy footfalls as the man
circled the ring.  He became more aware of his body, propped himself up on
his hands and knees.  `Fuck this,' he thought as he raised himself to one
knee.  `Fuck all of this.'

      Finally on his feet, Mark turned away from the bear and gingerly made
his way to the edge of the ring.  He began to lift one of the ropes.  "Easy
there, boy."  The bear began to walk toward him.  "We ain't done yet.
Don't go pussying out just because ya lost a round; I plan to have a lot
more fun with..."

      Wham!  Without even thinking about it, Mark whirled around and shoved
his fist, as hard as he possibly could, straight into the bear's balls.

      The bear's mouth fell open and both hands flew to his crotch.  Behind
the mask, Mark could see eyes grow wide.  Mark looked at him for one
moment, growled, and used his other fist to punch the bear hard in the
neck.  When the bear took his hands off his balls to nurse his neck, Mark
grabbed him by the shoulder, pulled, and shoved his knee into the bear's
now defenseless nuts.  Then he did it again.  And again.

      The bear couldn't make a sound.  All he could do was stand there, his
mouth open in silent agony.  Mark threw a leg behind the bear and pushed.
The big man toppled easily and landed in a fetal position, both hands
clutching his balls.  Mark took one step forward and looked down.  He had
never hated someone as much as he hated the bear at that moment.  Mark
barked a yelp of rage and delivered a kick right into the bear's stomach.
As the bear curled further into a massive ball of pain, Mark gave a parting
kick right to his chin and walked towards the edge of the ring.  He stepped
over the ropes, picked up his clothes, crossed the room, climbed the stairs
and emerged into the hall.

      Mark slammed the basement door behind him and paused.  He gripped the
doorknob so hard it began to creak.  That man had almost beaten him.  He
could've beaten him.  Never, ever in all of his life had he met someone who
could hold him down for more than a few seconds.  Never had he met someone
who could do anything beyond whimper and bend like a crazy straw once Mark
got his hands on him.  Never.

      Mark turned his head.  The bear's room was as tidy as when he had
entered.  Suddenly, Mark let out a scream of hatred and rushed at the
bear's end-table, lifting it up and heaving into the air.  The lamp flew
off the table and broke into pieces against the wall.  Mark stood still for
a moment, allowing himself a small smile at the damage he had caused.

      "Hope you can pay for that."

      Mark whirled around just in time for the bear's punch to catch him
right in the chin.  The force was so great that Mark felt his feet lift off
the ground before he landed ass-first on the rug, his clothes landing with
a light poof near him.  Before he could so much as lift his head off the
floor, a giant foot planted itself square against his chest, pinning him to
the ground.  Mark looked up to see the bear, now maskless, towering over
him.  Light bounced off his bald, sweaty head.

      "That... was dirty."  The bear's eyes, which Mark now saw were a
watery blue, were wild with anger.  "And I told you, I TOLD you, that I
didn't wanna see it again!  Now what do you have to say for yourself?"

      Mark blinked.  The bear's knee was now taking up a large part of his
field of vision, and the man's foot felt all but immovable.  Still, Mark
was not in a conciliatory mood.  "Fuck off."

      For a moment, Mark thought the bear might stomp his head into mush.
Instead, the bear slowly removed his foot from Mark's chest.  He looked at
Mark for a second, muttered "Fuck off..." a couple of times and finally
turned around.  "Fuck off?" he said, louder now.  "Fuck off?  You kick a
man while he's on the ground and then tell im' to fuck off?  Boy,
you... you need..."  The bear took a few steps away from Mark.  He threw
out his arms and shook his head.  Mark, half afraid and half intrigued,
propped himself up on his elbows to watch.  "Boy..."  The bear turned
around.  "  You need to learn some respect.  That's my decision; I'm gonna
have to teach you a lesson about respect."  The bear loomed over Mark.
"Are ya ready to start learnin'?"

      Mark cocked a quizzical eyebrow.  What in the hell?  He pulled
himself onto his feet and looked at the bear straight in the eye.  The man
looked straight back.  His expression had changed; it was no longer wild,
but calm and determined, like he had just decided to break in a
particularly uncooperative horse.  After a moment, Mark broke the stare and
rolled his eyes.  `Fuck this shit', he thought, and started to walk towards
the door.  "Fuck you, faggot."

      The bear took one giant step forward and slammed his fist into Mark's
abs.  Mark gasped and doubled over.

      "Two things wrong with what you just said," the bear bellowed.  One,
you insulted me.  I don't like that.  Makes me upset.  And two, you didn't
call me `sir'."  The bear lowered himself over Mark's body.  Mark's face
came level with the thick swath of black hair on the bear's chest.  Up
close, the divide between his pecs was painfully pronounced.  He looked the
bear right in the eye.  "I'm your daddy, boy.  And you call your daddy
`sir'.  `Cause your daddy knows what's good for ya, and he deserves your
respect."

      The bear grabbed Mark's forearm and rose.  Mark soon found himself on
his feet, the bear right in front of him.  He shook his head and eyed the
room.  The door was about twenty feet away.  He stopped massaging his gut
and eyed it.  It wasn't very far at all.  If he could only...

      "You ain't leavin', boy.  Not yet."  The bear rose to his full height
and looked down at Mark.  Mark could feel the heat of his breath.  "You
haven't learned anything."

      Mark raised himself to his full height as well, though he still came
a little short of the bear.  He took a small step forward so that his chest
was just touching the bear's.  He looked him straight in the eye.  "Listen,
buddy.  I came here to wrestle you.  I did, and you won.  But you're not
keeping me here any longer.  I wanna go, and if you try and stop me I'll
have you arrested for kidnapping and before you know it you'll be licking
someone's balls in the prison showers.  So I'll only say this once: Move."

      Mark kept his glance perfectly even, never taking it away from the
bear's watery, calm eyes.  His chest was rising and falling with the
excitement of putting this dick in his place.  A small grin perked up on
his face and he tensed his pecs, knowing how big and hard they would look
to his would-be captor.

      The bear stood still for a few moments, returning Mark's glare.  Mark
could feel the bear's warm, soft breath on his face and the taut, pulsing
heave of the bear's chest as it rose and fell.  The bear's chest hair
brushed lightly against Mark's hairless torso, and Mark felt himself
getting a little hard.

      Then, without breaking his stare, the bear took two steps back,
planted his legs firmly on the floor, and raised his arms into a grappling
position.  His legs burst outward, and Mark swallowed softly.  The bear
opened his mouth.  "If you can get me to submit once, you can leave."

      Mark raised an eyebrow.  Who the fuck is this guy?  I don't have to
do fucking anything.  Mark opened his mouth to tell the bear off again, but
stopped short.  He took in the sight: the bear, legs spread apart, arms
raised and ready to grab anything that came near.  His chest was a wall,
and his sinewy arms looked able to uproot a redwood.  His legs, planted on
the ground like roots in the soil, were thick and hard; Mark wondered how
many men had been squeezed free of breath between them.

      Who the fuck is this guy?  Mark knew.  This guy was some pathetic
shut-in who spent too much time on the BoxFlex.  This guy was a loser.  An
idiot.  He didn't work out right; just bulked himself up without any regard
for balance.  He was some two-bit wanna-be musclehead who got his kicks
playing fucked-up submission games.  He had gotten in one lucky sleeper.
This guy was nothing.

      And who was Mark?  Who was Mark fucking Ramden?  He was a
motherfucking MONSTER!  He could lift more in an hour than most of the
people at his gym could lift in a week.  He held the heads of 250-pound
bodybuilders between his thighs and didn't let go until they screamed for
mercy.  He was the strongest guy any of his friends knew, and he made them
say it, shout it, scream it whenever possible.  Who was he?  He was the
king!

      Mark turned and grinned at the bear, who was still standing at the
ready.  Mark reached down and adjusted his pouch.  He made a show of it,
spreading his hands over his muscular stomach and thighs, pursing his lips
as his tensed his pecs.  "Get you to submit and I'm free, eh?  Only once?"

      "That's right, boy."

      Mark let out a single laugh.  He smiled into the bear's calm face.
"Boy?"  He laughed again.  "You may be taking that back when I've got you
on the floor, buddy."

      Mark raised his arms over his head in a luxurious stretch, making
sure the bear got to admire his body from as many angles as possible, and
got into position.  He raised his arms and planted his legs.  "Ready,
buddy?"  The bear gave the slightest of nods.  "Better fuckin' be."

      Mark moved forward and locked hands with the bear.  He shifted his
feet, putting his right foot slightly in front of the other.  "Uhg." He
grunted with the strain of the grapple.  Both he and the bear were pushing
hard on each other, their chests bulging and starting to glisten with
sweat.  Mark could hear the bear's breathing becoming harder as the
struggle continued.  "Uhgg."

      Mark tensed his muscles as far as they could go, pushed with all of
his might, but it wasn't quite enough.  They were relenting.  His arms were
slowly bending backwards, forced into submission by the bear's great arms.
"Nhugg..."  He caught the bear's eyes.  Watery calm.  Shit.  His legs
started to wobble.  He was being forced down.  He groaned and pushed back,
puffing out his cheeks with effort, but it wasn't working.  He was forced
onto one knee, his arms twisted with bulging muscle that wasn't doing any
good.

      The bear was looming over Mark now.  Mark had a full view of the
bear's chest, the hair on it starting to get matted with sweat.  The bear's
eyes were calm, but his face was strained.  Lines appeared at his mouth and
temple.  He let out a low grunt, a sound so rumbling and powerful it seemed
to come from some great animal.  The bear inflated his mighty chest and
pushed down harder on Mark.  Mark felt his arms giving.  He had to do
something.

      With all the speed he could muster, Mark released one of his hands
and made to punch the bear directly in his crotch, but the bear blocked his
attack with his now-free hand.  He grabbed Mark's arm and pulled it so Mark
pivoted to the left.  Before Mark could react, he felt the bear's bent leg
slide behind him, his knee poised to press into Mark's backside.  The bear
put one powerful hand on Mark's chest and slammed the small of his back
into the knee.

      "Aaauuggggggg!"  Mark let out a primal scream as pain blasted forth
from his back.  He was helplessly bridged over the bear's knee.  He tried
to raise his arms but the bear held them down and ground Mark harder into
his knee.  A new blast of pain rocketed through his back.  Mark writhed and
wriggled in the bear's grip, but it was no use.  The bear had him.

      "Auugg... gah... fuck!"  Suddenly, the bear tossed Mark off his knee
and onto the floor.  Mark landed with a grunt and began to writhe in pain.
He tasted the cheap carpet, cursing his opponent.  "Mother...fuck..."  The
bear stood over him, his chest heaving with effort.  He didn't move, but
looked at Mark calmly.

      Mark climbed to a crouching position, his body seething with anger.
He felt hot, like his arms were going to catch fire any moment and tear
into the bastard who was just standing there, like this was so fucking
amusing.  He whipped his head up to look at the bear.  "You fucker!" he
spat, rising to a standing position.  "I'm going to rip your fucking head
off!"

      The bear regarded him coolly.  "I told you," he rumbled, "to call me
`sir'."

      "Gahhhhhhhh!" Mark rushed forward with speed that surprised even him
and threw his arms around the bear's middle, tackling him into the wall.
The bear's eyes went wide with surprise, and Mark flashed a cruel grin as
he slammed the bear's back into the living room wall, connecting with a
great thud that shook some volumes from the top shelf of a nearby bookcase.

      Mark locked his arms behind the bear's back.  "You wanna feel
something, you fuck?  Haugghh!"  With a loud grunt, Mark squeezed his arms
around the bear's body with all of his might.  His muscles bulged and
pounded, the heat of them pressing into the bear's iron torso and crushing
the air from it.  Mark could feel the bear's body try to fight his vice
grip, pushing in and out, in and out, but Mark kept it in check.  Mark
lifted the bear up against the wall so that the bear's chest was just about
level with Mark's head.  He squeezed even harder and watched with glee as
the bear's chest ballooned and deflated, straining uselessly against his
powerful arms.  Mark looked up.

	The bear's face was contorted in a grimace.  His mouth was open in
a moan that wouldn't come, and his eyes were squinting with pain.  Sweat
dribbled off his beard.  Mark relished the moment.  "You like that, you
piece a' shit?  Do you?"  The bear gasped in pain and weakly tried to bat
off Mark's arms.  "Hey, I asked you a question, fucker!  Did you like
that?"  As he said `like' Mark's arms exploded with a burst of strength,
clamping down on the writhing bear with more power than ever.

	"Ouuhhhhh..."  The bear let out a low moan and arched his head
back, brushing it against the wall.  Mark smiled and tightened his grip.

	"Yeah, that's right.  You weak little pansy-ass schoolboy.  Lot a'
good those little muscles are doing you now, huh?  Yeah, you're a real
macho man.  A regular Charles fucking Atlas!  Grrrrrrrahhh!"  Mark jammed
his face into the bear's chest, licking the pounding muscle and burying
himself in the dark chest hair.  He bit at the bear's left nipple, rubbing
his face in the dense forest of hair.  "Grahhhh!"

	Mark felt the bear's hands come down hard on both his arms.  He
pulled his face away from the bear's chest.  Sweat was rolling off the
bear's face in waves, and a low growl was sounding from behind his clenched
teeth as he clamped down harder on Mark's arms.  "I... told you..." The
bear pressed against Mark's arms with incredible force, "to call
me... SIR!"  The bear's chest was puffed out a foot in front of his face,
his body vibrating with power.  Mark felt his grip loosening.  `No!'
Mark's arms slipped farther down his body as the bear pushed out of his
grip.  Mark was aghast, his body straining, but he was losing.  With a
final groan, the bear flung Mark's arms away and landed on the ground.
Mark stumbled back a few steps.

	"OOOFF!"  Mark felt the bear's arms wrap around him like an iron
clamp.  His feet left the ground as the bear hoisted him into the air and
into a front bearhug.  "FU—Gah!"  Mark felt the bear's arms crash into his
sides and tighten into a vice.  He tried to take in air.  Nothing.  He
gasped.  The bear groaned as he applied another burst of pressure to Mark's
ribs.  Mark arched his head backwards in pain, sweat flying off his head.
"Gah—aa..."  Mark's head snapped forward and he flung his arms around the
bear's back in a weak embrace.  He slapped the bear's broad back feebly,
trying anything that might loosen the deadly grip that was squeezing the
life from him.  Mark slammed his hands down, but they only made weak
slapping noises against the bear's massive back.  He felt the bear's
muscles bulge deeper into his torso and let out a renewed groan.
"Oooahhhh... you... you fucker..."

	Mark began to slide down the bear's sweat-drenched torso.  The bear
hoisted him back up and applied new pressure.  Mark bobbed up and down in
the bear's tremendous arms, helpless.  "Do you submit?" the bear said
gruffly into Mark's shoulder.

	Mark opened his mouth, but the words came only with labor.
"Fuck... you... Oah..."

	The bear squeezed harder.  He took a few steps back, toward the
bookcase.  "Do you submit?" he asked again, his breath hot on Mark's ear.

	Mark's head swam.  He pounded on the bear's back, but the bear
didn't budge an inch.  Mark could feel the terrible power of the bear's
arms pressing in on him.  Their chests were pressed together, rolling off
one another.  Mark's shaved chest grinded harshly against the bear's hairy
one.  Mark could feel the bear's heavy but regular breathing pushing on
him, like a clock counting down the seconds until he blacked out.  His own
breathing was desperate, sporadic.  He gasped and flailed, but knew he
couldn't last much longer.  He started to see black.  Closing in.  Closer.

	The bear had taken a few more steps back, to the point where his
back was pressed against the bookcase.  He continued to squeeze Mark
mercilessly, and asked again if Mark would submit.  Mark's eyes rolled into
his head.

	Then he had an idea.  His body bobbing against the bear's huge
frame, Mark reached up with both arms and grabbed a shelf of the bookcase,
silently praying they were attached to the main frame.  He wrapped his legs
around the bear's torso as tightly as he could manage.  He tensed his arms,
took in what breath he could, and with a groan of power, pulled with all he
had left.

	The bookcase creaked and tottered.  Mark blinked sweat out of his
eyes and kept pulling, his arms scarlet with intensity, as if on fire.  The
bookcase tipped further.  It was working!  Mark felt the bear's grip weaken
a little, the brute probably onto the game.  But it was too late.  Thick
volumes started to hail onto the bear's back.  The bookcase passed its
center of balance and started to pick up speed.  It rocketed downward.
Mark felt himself released and immediately scrambled away, willing every
part of his body into full retreat.  His head was still swimming in a sea
of blacks and grays, but he heard a great crash, a deep cry of pain, and
the fluttering of dozens of books as they thudded onto the floor.  The
bookcase had trapped the fucker.  He was down.

      Mark pulled himself off the ground and promptly fell back onto his
ass.  His balance was still off.  Dimly registering the bear's roars of
pain, Mark whirled himself onto his knees and grabbed onto a nearby table.
He heaved himself onto his feet and slapped his face, shaking his head.
His mind was a little unclear, but he knew he wanted to get of there as
soon as possible.  He made his way towards the door, grabbing his pants on
the way.

      Mark burst out of the door and made a beeline for his Hummer,
clumsily trying to pull his keys out of the jeans in his hands.  He was
more clear-headed now and began to run faster, the chilly air now
registering on his bare chest and legs.  A red, heavy sun was falling over
the horizon, and Mark, without knowing why, wondered how long it was since
he had walked into that house.  He threw open the Hummer door and leapt
inside, the leather cold against his thighs.  He was breathing quickly and
heatedly.  He jammed the keys into the ignition, threw the drive into
reverse, looked over his shoulder and pounded his foot onto the
accelerator.

     A great roar of tires on dirt blasted out all around Mark's ears, but
the vehicle didn't move.  Mark spun his head around, facing forward.

	"No way..."

	The bear met Mark's eyes with the force of a gunshot.  They were
bulging, red, and lowered in a glare of total fury.  Around them, the
bear's face was contorted into a collapsing, shimmering grimace.  His teeth
were barred and his shoulders were heaving.  The bear's neck was bursting
out to nearly past the boundaries of his ears and his arms glowed red with
the task of lifting the front end of Mark's Hummer.  His powerful arms were
tipping Mark's Hummer.  Mark looked into the bear's eyes and gasped.

	"Graaaaaaaaaahhhh!"  The bear yelled so loudly Mark yanked his
hands, which had been frozen to the wheel, up to his face.  His awe jumped
to terror and he immediately slammed down on the accelerator.  The back
wheels whirled loudly, but the vehicle didn't move.  Mark could feel the
Hummer being tipped skyward.  He felt himself slide back in his seat.  He
slammed on the accelerator again.  More noise but no movement.  Mark looked
around wildly.  How is this happening?

	Mark gripped the wheel with white-knuckle strength.  His foot was
glued to the accelerator, but to no avail.  The dark sky was tipping
upwards.  Mark heard, over the raging of the car, a great roar beneath his
feat.  The bear was pushing with all his might.  The car was completely
vertical now, and Mark looked up at an orange sky splayed across his
windshield.  Would it be the last thing he ever saw?  He closed his eyes.

	The car stopped for a moment, balanced on the Hummer's broad
backside.  Mark held his breath and dug his hands into the wheel.  Nothing.
He opened one eye.

	"GRRRRAHHHHH!"  Mark felt the car fall beneath him.  The bear had
given it an incredible push, and now it was crashing onto the ground,
roof-first.  It hit the ground with a deafening smash, the metal slamming
the dirt in a grinding, exploding symphony.  Mark's head hit the roof,
which was now the floor, with a great thud as his body fell all around him.
The car rumbled and shook, pushing Mark's body into ten different positions
as once.  He felt his head collide sharply with the sun roof but barely had
time to yelp as the dull pain ran through his body.  His leg slammed into
the dashboard.  One of his arms flew right into the door, landing with a
sharp knock before being thrown somewhere else.  Mark had no control.  All
he knew was pain and noise.  And then he saw nothing but black.  And then
he saw nothing at all.

--

	The room was black.  There were no drapes, no carpet, no door.
Everything in every direction was black.  Mark groped weakly in the dark.
His arm.  He could barely lift his arm!  A wave of panic washed over him.
Where was he?  Why couldn't he see?  Why couldn't he move?  Why...

	He felt fuzzy.  Fuzzy all over his back.  The... carpet.  He was
lying on the fuzzy carpet.  He shifted his weight and tried to roll over,
but he couldn't move very far.  He collapsed on his back.  The room began
to spin, like he was looking out from inside a dryer.  Colors quickly began
to bleed in; dull brown and red at first, but eventually giving way to
yellow and blue.  He lifted his arm and brought his hand to his face,
watching it bend and blur in front of his weak eyes.  Oog, what had just
happened?

	Then he saw him, and everything came immediately into focus.  The
bear was sitting in the easy chair, high above, still in his yellow speedo.
Sweat glistened lightly over his bare arms and legs, and his bald head
seemed to shine with an inner glow.  His hands were folded in his lap
expectantly, and he gave a small start when Mark began to stir.  His big,
watery eyes stared down at Mark with... what?  Concern?  Fear?  Mark
couldn't tell and didn't care.

	Mark pulled himself onto his knees.  He glared at the bear, raising
his right hand in an accusatory point.  "You..." he stammered, his voice a
slur.  "You... you fucker!  You... what the hell are you?"  Mark was on his
feet, and everything that had happened was rushing back to him.  The fight,
the sleeper, the Hummer... the Hummer... he had lifted the Hummer!  Right
off the ground!  Mark's mouth fell open.  "You lifted my car!  You... how
did you... WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CAR?"  Mark didn't wait for an answer.  He
went straight for the nearest window and looked out at the driveway.

	The Hummer was on its back, wheels jutting out into the dusky sky.
Smoke was wafting off the vehicle in light tufts.  Mark gaped, his mouth
open in a silent scream, before turning back around.

	"That... YOU FUCKING SICK ASSHOLE!"  And with that he charged.

	Mark must have not yet regained all of his coordination, because he
was back on the ground before he had taken two steps.  He gazed up at the
bear, now standing directly above him, and sputtered.  The bear stared
back, his large eyes having lost whatever may have been compassion from
before.  Towering above Mark, he looked like some enormous Greek statue
built to inspire humility in all who looked upon it.  He stood stock still,
and stared.

	"Are you alright?"

	Mark looked up, his energy regained.  "Alright?  No I'm not fucking
alright!  You totaled my fucking car!"

	The bear bent over quickly and reached down to Mark.  Mark flinched
immediately and was almost surprised when he found the bear dragging him
onto his feet.  He now stood face-to-face with his adversary, the large
eyes narrowed in concern.

	"I'm sorry about the car," the bear said, never looking away from
Mark's eyes, "but I'm more concerned about you.  I need to know: are you
alright?"

	Mark looked back, angry and confused.  He clenched his jaw,
wondering if he should just punch the fuck out of this guy right now.
Instead he cinched up his face and snarled out a response.  "Yeah, I'm
alright.  I don't seem to have any serious injuries, if that's what you
mean."

	The bear closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.  "Good."  He turned
away from Mark and walked back to the easy chair.  Mark noted the bear's
locket still on the table beside it.  With a great sigh, the bear collapsed
into the chair.

	Mark stared at the bear incredulously.  What in the hell was this?
He wrecked his car!  "Hey, we're not done, asshole.  You totaled my wheels.
I don't know how the fuck you did it, but you did.  My car is out there and
it is destroyed, and you're going to pay for it!  Now get off your ass and
go... flip it rightside-up!!"

	The bear remained quiet.  He slowly put his head in one of his
hands, rubbing his face.  His immense muscular body looked subdued.  Mark
sidled up next to him.  "Did you hear me, faggot?"  He bent down to the
bear's ear.  "GO.  FIX.  THE CAR!"

	The bear looked up at Mark from under his hand.  His body began to
tense up a little, but he remained silent.

	Mark stood still.  There was nothing this fucker could do.  Mark
had him.  The bear had almost killed him, almost killed the Hummer!
Attempted murder; that's what the charge would be.  This guy was done.
Mark almost grinned in spite of his anger.  When he spoke, it was soft and
threatening.  "Get up, you worthless sack of shit.  Get up and do what I
say, or I will make sure you spend the rest of your pitiful life in jail.
You will be the official prison butt-boy for the rest of your days.  No
deserted house in the middle of nowhere, no shitty easy chair..."  He
grabbed the locket on the table and held it up.  "This shit?  Gone.
Nothing will..."

	"PUT THAT DOWN!"

	Mark put the locket back on the table without even thinking and
quickly backed away.  The bear was furious.  Every vein was pulsing visibly
and every muscle was tense.  His skin was red.  Mark thought it looked like
he was going to breathe fire.  The bear's eyes were narrowed and his breath
was coming in short bursts.  His face looked inhuman, ridiculous.

	Mark took a step backward.  His hands moved instinctively to cover
his face.  "Hey, man, I, uh, man."  The bear moved forward, his hulking
body alive with anger.

	Then he stopped.  He stood still, looming over Mark's crouching
frame.  Mark looked tentatively up at him.  He was scared.  The bear was a
monster.  His enormous chest heaved up and down, sweat rolling off it in
rivers.  It flowed over his tight, powerful stomach and onto his thick
legs, toned and hard with what looked like years of hard labor.  And in
between them, Mark saw the bear's dick bulge threateningly under a thin
layer of yellow nylon.  Mark stared at it, and thought that if the bear
wanted it, if only for a second, Mark would take it in his mouth until it
filled him completely.  For just one moment, Mark wanted the bear to
control him, to dominate him, to make him whimper with pleasure.

	The bear remained still.  Mark kept looking at his dick, the
strange feeling inside him growing dimmer with each passing moment.  Why
isn't he doing anything? he thought.  Why isn't he forcing me?  Hurting me?
Mark looked up.  The bear's face was immobile.  It was stretched taut with
anger, yet... he did nothing.  His brows were drawn with indecision even
though the eyes still burned with the fury Mark had grown so quickly to
fear.  Mark looked at him.  He looked at him and he realized something that
made him smile.  He stood to his full height and looked the bear right in
his big, angry eyes.

	"You're afraid you might hurt me."  Mark smiled a mean, thin-lipped
smile.  "You, superman, you're afraid you might hurt me too much.  You've
got some kind of power or something.  You're some kind of freak, lifting
cars and whatnot.  No wonder I couldn't beat you.  There's no way anyone
could beat you, you pathetic little coward."  Mark was circling the bear
now, gleeful with his newfound leverage.  It was all falling together in
Mark's head.  His smile grew wider.  "And you don't want to hurt me, cause
if you did, people will come looking for me, and then they'll find your
little house in the middle of nowhere.  I wonder why you live out here all
alone.  Are you hiding from someone, something?  Or maybe you just don't
want the publicity, being a genetic freak or whatever.  Interesting,
interesting..."  Mark circled completely around the bear and again looked
him the eye.  The bear's eyes were full of malice, but Mark met them with
complete confidence.  He was in control.  "I'll bet you want to keep nice
and quiet out here alone, not draw attention to yourself and
whatever... power you have.  So here's the new deal: you go out there and
flip my truck back over.  Pray that it works or you're gonna buy me a
couple new ones.  Then you come back in here, make me a little dinner,
apologize real nicely about what a nasty trick you pulled, suck my cock and
then I'll be on my way."

	The bear looked like a backed-up volcano.  His entire body was red,
his every muscle clenched tight, but he remained still.  Mark laughed
quietly.  He knew, he was sure, that he had won.  "And in return," he said
slowly, "I won't tell a soul that there's some circus freak with super
strength living out here in the middle of nowhere.  I won't let it get out,
as long as you do everything I say."  Mark took the bear's hand and put it
over his own thigh.  He moved it back and forth across his leg, circling
the crotch gently.  "Isn't that nice?" he whispered.  "You could enjoy it
you just let yourself go, you cowardly little shit.  You could really have
a fun time.  When's the last time you were pounded by someone who looked
this good?"  He leaned in closer.  "Not like you have a choice, anyway."
Mark used his other hand to fish around on the coffee table beside them.
After a couple of seconds, he found what he was looking for.  He picked up
the bear's locket and dangled it in front of the bear's eyes.  "What's in
here, eh?"  Mark opened it.

	There was a small picture of a man's face inside.  Brown hair, blue
eyes, a strong chin and a warm smile came across favorably in the tiny,
faded photo.  Mark turned raised eyebrows on the bear's grimacing face.
"Cute." Mark said offhandedly.  "Is this some bitch of yours?"  The bear's
face trembled in fury.  Mark brought his own face an inch away from the
bear's.  He put the bear's hand over his own dick, which had grown hard and
eager.  "When I'm riding you, boy, you better be thinking of me, and not
whatever little pussy used to give it to you."

	And that was the last thing Mark said before he felt himself
sailing across the room.  He heard the whomping sound of the bear's fist on
his stomach, listened to the whoosh of the air as he flew towards the wall,
felt his body contort into a strange shape as it crashed into a bookcase
and knew rather than felt himself crumble into a pathetic pile on the
floor.  He began to feel the pain in his stomach and back just as he saw
the bear tower over him, wild-eyed and red, in his tight yellow speedo.

	It was all Mark could do to look up.  The bear spoke in an enormous
voice.  "You're going to learn respect, boy!"  The yell shook Mark's ears.
"You're going to learn to give respect where it's deserved!  Stay down!"
The bear slammed his foot into Mark's back as he attempted to rise.  He
tasted blood and shag carpeting.  "I'm going to keep you here until I think
you're ready to go!  Dammit, boy, show some fucking spine!"  Mark was off
the ground, in the air, against the wall.  His feet dangled slightly off
the floor.  The bear had his hand around Mark's neck and was holding on
tightly.  Mark couldn't breathe.  "Boy..." the bear snarled, "You need to
learn what it means... to really GIVE respect."

	Mark clutched the bear's forearm uselessly and sputtered.  "I... I
respect you..."

	The bear continued to glare at him.  After a moment, the bear
dropped him in a pile on the floor.  "Boy, you don't know a damn thing
about respect."  The bear crossed his arms over his chest.  "But you'll
learn."

	Mark looked up through half-open eyes.  He ached.  His throat was
on fire and his body was limp.  The bear towered over him, an immovable
object.  Mark saw the bear's ferocious dick press against the speedo.  He
saw the bear's chest push against his skin, saw his legs like iron cords
wrap around his body.  Mark hated him.  Mark wanted him.  Mark could do
nothing.  What did he have to do?

--

	The sun beat down.  Standing in under it in nothing but his speedo,
Mark had been assigned wood-chopping duty.  He could feel droplets of sweat
fly off him every time he brought the axe down.  And then up again, and
down, and up and down until all he could feel was sweat and sun and sorry
he ever came out here.

	He looked at the block of wood he had been chopping, looked over at
the pile of freshly cut wooded he had already chopped.  He looked at the
far bigger pile of wood waiting for him and scowled.  He raised his axe.

	Mark was out in the middle of a lightly wooded field, carrying out
the orders the bear had given him.  He looked over his head and peered at
the bear's house, a good quarter-mile away, and cursed.  The big man had
dragged him out here and threw him on the ground.  He had pointed at a pile
of wood, laid an axe at Mark's feet, and walked away without another word.
Now here Mark was, wearing nothing but a speedo in the glaring heat and
chopping wood on a little stump.  Kidnapping.  That's what it was.  He had
kidnapped Mark and was making him his personal slave.  And for what?  So he
would learn respect?  Respect for what?  For who?  Mark brought the axe
down so forcefully the block of wood split like an unripe melon.  He yanked
the axe out of the stump with a grunt.  This man had no right, no fucking
right, to treat him like this.  He was a psycho.  A freak.  Mark lifted the
axe again.

	But what could he do?  The man was strong; much stronger than Mark.
He couldn't beat him by force.  And he couldn't trick him into letting him
go, either.  The bear was set.  One look into his eyes told Mark all he
needed to know.  The bear wanted him to stay here, and he was willing to do
what it took to make it happen.  So how was he going to get out?  How could
he get out?

	Mark flung the axe to the side and pressed his hands against his
head.  His hair was greasy, matted and hot.  He threw his hands into the
air in frustration and started walking away from the bear's house.  Mark
wondered if the bear was watching.  Probably.  He wouldn't get far if he
tried to run.  Besides, there's no civilization around for miles.  What
would be the point?  Mark clenched his fists.  What could he do, what could
he do?

      James!  James knew where he was!  Maybe he would come looking!  Maybe
he would get help.  But Mark quickly scoffed at that idea.  What would
prevent the bear from getting rid of the Hummer and keeping Mark locked
away if anyone showed up?  No, Mark had to get out of this himself.  This
guy is just a man, Mark thought.  He's beatable.  But how?  He continued to
pace.

     "Whoa!"  Mark yelped and danced a few feet backward.  He had almost
lost his balance.  He moved forward cautiously and saw that the ground
depressed right where he had slipped.  He prodded the ground with his foot.

	The earth fell away and out of sight.  It had fallen down a hole.
Mark arched his brow and continued to probe the area with his foot.  He
pressed against the ground and soon discovered that his foot slipped right
through the covering of leaves and grass over what appeared to be a very
deep hole.  A well?  Mark got down on his knees and cleared away the
earthen cover.  Darkness farther than he could see.  It must be a well.
Mark picked up a nearby stone and dropped it down, listening for the sound
of it hitting the bottom and hoping it would take a while.  His hope was
realized.  This well was deep, it was hidden, and it was away from the
house.  Mark began to replace the cover of leaves and twigs on top of the
well and smiled.  He was getting an idea that might just take the bear out
of commission.  If he could lure the bear out here and somehow trick him
into slipping into the well, that would be it.  There would be no getting
out.  No problems.  Mark would be free and no one would ever know.  It's
likely that no one would even come looking for him!  He lives out here all
alone.  Mark might get away with this completely.  His smile grew wider.

	But as Mark stood up and walked confidently back toward the
chopping block, he stopped and furrowed his brow.  Was this murder?  He
could kill the bear with this, or at least incapacitate him beyond any
help.  No matter what happens, this plan ends with the bear being dead.
Could Mark do that?

	Yes.  The bear deserved it.  He was a psychopath living in the
middle of nowhere.  He had kidnapped Mark.  He had subdued Mark, beaten
Mark against his will.  He had won.  And there's no telling what he might
do if Mark stayed here.  Mark might not come out alive.  It was kill or be
killed, life or death.  He had no choice.

	Mark bent over and picked up the axe.  He turned the tool over in
his hands, examining the handle, the blade, and his own arms.  He wrapped
his powerful hands tightly around the handle, raised it to the sky and
brought it crashing down.  The piece of wood flew apart and landed with
twin thumps on separate sides of the chopping block.  Mark turned a lowered
eye and a devilish grin back on the bear's wooden house.  It was his turn.

--

	Mark entered through the back door and stepped into the bear's
kitchen.  He looked around.  No sign of his captor.  Mark made his way
under a large wooden frame and into the living area where they had
wrestled.  The bear had rearranged the room a bit.  A coffee table stood
where a few hours ago Mark's head had been ear-deep in the carpet.  There
was a new lamp on the end-table that looked nearly identical to the first
one.  Mark scanned the room.  Where was it?  Mark had seen the bear put it
down somewhere here... over on the armchair?  Mark glanced at it.  He
smiled.  There on a small night table next to the chair was the bear's
locket.  Mark walked to it.

	"Boy?"  The bear's voice came loud and hard from the stairs.  "What
are you doing back here?"

	Mark whirled around in time to see the bear reach the bottom of the
stairs.  He had changed into jeans and a tight red tee-shirt that hugged
his body like a second skin.  His thick biceps pulled the fabric taut
around his arms.  The bear approached Mark, who fidgeted in place.  "I, uh,
I finished... the wood."

	The bear stood a foot away from Mark, his chest ballooning outward
in front of his face.  Mark felt his dick jump in the speedo and silently
cursed his present state of undress.

	The bear looked Mark over from head to toe, lingering a little at
his crotch.  Mark cupped his hands in front of him.  The bear looked him
straight in the eye.  "You finished, boy?"

	Mark could feel the bear's breathe on his face.  "...Yes."

	"That's `yes, sir.'"

	Mark narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.  He looked hard at the
bear and stuck out his lip.  The bear looked back.  Mark took a deep
breath.  "Yes sir."

	A moment passed.  "Good, boy, good.  Here's what you're gonna do
now: you're gonna take this chair..."  The bear put his hand on the ratty
recliner, "and carry it out to the clearing where you were chopping wood.
Then you're gonna dust it off thoroughly, bring it back here, and do the
same thing to every piece of furniture in the room."

     Neither man moved an inch.  Mark held the bear's gaze and the bear
held Mark's.  `Kidnapping, cocksucking son of a bitch...'  "Sir?"  Mark
asked, with no small hint of defiance in his voice.  "Sir, why can't I just
dust off the furniture here, sir?  I mean, won't it get dirtier if I take
it outside?  Sir?"

     The bear took a small step forward; Mark held his stance.  The fabric
of the big man's tee-shirt brushed against Mark's bare chest.  The top of
the bear's nose was nearly touching the bridge of Mark's.  No one took a
breath.

     "Do it because I told you to."

     No man moved.  Mark gulped, he hoped not audibly.  "But what if I
just..."

     He didn't finish the sentence.  When the bear grabbed hold of his
balls and squeezed, all Mark could do was grunt.  "Ugh!"  The bear clamped
down harder.  Mark's face twisted and crumpled.  The bear stared straight
ahead.  "Oh... plea... ah!"  The bear released Mark, who let out a small
yelp in a pitch far higher than he was comfortable sharing with others.
His mouth hung open and his crotch ached.  He looked at the bear and
stammered out a response.  "I... I'll do it, sir..."

     The bear immediately turned around and walked towards the stairs, his
tight butt bobbing tauntingly in front of Mark as it bounced away.  Mark
fumed while massaging his balls.  He looked at the locket on the table and
turned towards the stairs.  "Sir?"  The bear stopped.  "I have one quick
question, sir."

     The bear turned around.  He crossed his arms across his chest and
stared directly into Mark's eyes.  "What?"

     The bear was a good twenty feet away.  That should be enough of a head
start.  "I was wondering, sir..."  Mark's hand slipped over to the table,
"...why you leave shit like this just lying around."  Mark snatched the
locket and ran.

     Mark couldn't hear his feet slap against the ground as he ran.  Small
branches whipped at his face and air whoosed by his ears; he ignored them.
He could see the thicket of trees with the well about a hundred feet ahead
of him.  Faster...

     Thump, thump, heard!  Mark heard the footfalls of his pursuer.  He
grasped the locket tightly.  Thump!  Oh God, closer.  He was gaining.  Mark
felt the grass get shorter between his toes.  Almost there.  Oh God, oh
God...

     A drop of sweat fell into Mark's eye.  The rushing air threw it off
him.  He was almost there; just a couple more feet.  The bear was close.
Almost there...

     "Ugh!"  Mark grunted as he flung himself into the air.  He sailed over
the camouflaged hole and landed with a dirty roll a few feet away from it.
He looked up.  The bear was barreling towards him at full speed.  "Fuck..."

     It happened so fast Mark didn't have time to react.  The bear raced
towards him, his face aglow with anger.  Then his right leg fell through
the layer of grass and leaves Mark had used to cover the well.  His body
tipped over slightly, and for a moment it looked like he was running in
mid-air.  Soon he sank out of Mark's vision, but Mark could hear his body
bump and brush against the sides of the well as it fell.  He heard the
collisions grow softer, more distant, until soon they stopped completely.

     Mark didn't move.  He laid against a tree and stared at the hole,
panting with exhaustion and disbelief.  Had it worked?  Was he gone?  Mark
wiped sweat off his forehead.  He sat up straight and brushed some dirt and
grass off himself.

     Mark stood up.  He took a few deep breaths and wiped his forehead
again.  He cautiously crept to the edge of the well, his hands
instinctively in front of him.  He peeked over the lip and looked down.
Darkness.  Just darkness.  Nothing moved.

     Mark brought his hands to his face and took a step back, and another.
It had worked.  It had actually worked.  Mark rubbed his temples.  He
looked up.  The sky was a soft blue and the sun was bright.  Mark put his
hands at his sides and closed his eyes.  He took a deep, luxurious breath.
It had worked.

     It had worked!  Mark grinned.  It had worked and now he was free!  He
won!  Ha!  That overgrown son of a bitch had fallen completely into Mark's
trap!  Mark let out a burst of laughter.  It was so easy!  Mark jumped in
place a little, almost embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.  He punched the
air.  "Take that, you fucker!"  he yelled, clasping his hands over his
head.  "And here, take this!"  He tossed the locket into the well.  "Keep
it; the guy's a troll anyway!"  Mark burst into another short splatter of
laughter.

     Mark kicked a stray stone into the hole and put his hands on his hips.
His grin grew.  That was it.  The bear was gone and Mark could leave.  He
wondered if the bear had some truck or something in the garage Mark could
use to get back home.  And then he would tell James about how he had beaten
the invincible man!  `Invincible my ass!'  Mark had made the guy his bitch!
HE was invincible!

     Oh, wait...  Mark rubbed his chin.  Better not tell anyone about this,
actually.  The bear was probably dead, after all; no telling what thorny
situations that might stir should it ever get out.  Mark's face fell.  He
had single-handedly beaten this sadistic monster and couldn't gloat about
it.  Oh well, beats being convicted for murder.

     Mark put his hands behind his head and began to walk back to the
house.  Though no one was watching, he strutted, giving the squirrels and
occasional ducks a full view of his sweaty pecs and abs.  Mark looked at
his body.  It looked powerful in the sunlight; like it were carved out of
stone.  Mark smiled.  Yeah, James was going to respect this.  No two ways
about it.

     He entered the house.  It looked no different, except that the bear
had knocked over the lamp in his rush to get to Mark.  Well, he won't have
to worry about that anymore.  Mark smirked.  The lamp was undamaged.  He
picked it up and put it back on the table it had fallen off.

     The lamp was wrong.  That wasn't quite how it was placed when he had
been in the room earlier.  Mark tilted his head and looked at it.  Yeah,
something was different.  He adjusted it slightly, turned it this way and
that, trying to replicate the way the bear had placed it.  Nothing was
taking.  It looked odd.

     Suddenly Mark's stomach ached.  He grasped at it with his left hand.
What the hell?  He sat down in the bear's easy chair and massaged his
middle.  Was he hungry?  No, he didn't feel hungry.  He just... ached for
some reason.

     He must be hungry.  Mark got up and wandered to the bear's
refrigerator.  Inside was a frozen chicken dinner.  Maybe that would get
rid of the feeling.  He grabbed it and walked over the microwave.

     Outside, a twig snapped.  Mark whipped his head toward the window.

     A big yellow dog was wandering out in the field.  It must have stepped
on a twig.  Mark breathed in deeply.  He put the chicken in the microwave
and set the timer for three minutes.  Then he grabbed the edge of the
kitchen table with his hands and hoisted himself on top of it, gazing out
the window.

     He had killed the bear.  Not just beaten him, not just taught him a
lesson: killed him.  Mark's face was stone.  A wave rose and fell in his
stomach, tickling at his insides.  He put a hand to his forehead.

     Wait.  Did he really kill him?  After all, the bear had only fallen
down a well.  Mark didn't push him in or anything.  And what else was he
supposed to do?  He couldn't subdue the guy.  That much was clear, and the
bear would've kept him here for God knows how long if he hadn't acted.
Would Mark let that stand?  Would anybody have let that stand?  Fucking no!
Mark fought back and the bear paid the price for messing with him!

     What it all came down to, Mark decided, was strength.  The bear was
strong- stronger than Mark.  But he was weak in the head.  Mark had
outsmarted him.  The bear had placed Mark in a life-or-death situation and
Mark had made his choice.  Mark chose that he would live and to do that the
bear had to die.  And Mark could do that because he was stronger.  There
was no other choice.

     Mark stood up.  He felt much better.  He punched the window slightly
and watched it wobble.  He had won, fair and square.

     The microwave alarm went off and Mark took out the chicken.  It looked
pretty good.  He put it on a spare plate and took it over to the kitchen
table.  He chuckled a little before starting to eat.  "Thank you, sir."

--

     The next drawer was empty, just like the one before it.  Nothing,
nothing, nothing.  This guy lived like a monk.  Mark opened the bottom
drawer.  Underwear.  Briefs.  Those were a little too weird to steal, and
Mark wore jockeys anyway.

     It was several hours later and the sun was beginning to set.  Mark,
now in his jeans and tee-shirt, had scoured the house and ended up at last
in the bear's bedroom.  He got up and walked over to the bear's bed.  A
long black jacket, an empty safe and a nice wall clock lay on the mattress.
They were the only things in the house Mark was taking.  Mark hadn't found
any money, and most of the other stuff was either too old-fashioned or too
musty, and Mark didn't fit into the bear's clothes.  There wasn't really
much of anything, really.  The guy didn't even have a TV.

     Mark walked over to the full-length mirror the bear had by his bed.
It was a nice piece, but Mark didn't want to risk it breaking or anything
in the back of the bear's truck, which was smaller than the Hummer.  Mark
hadn't been able to upright his vehicle, but he'd take care of that later.
Right now he was too busy admiring himself to think about it.  Mark struck
a side bicep pose in the mirror, grinning at himself as the muscle pushed
against the fabric.  Very nice.

     Something rustled outside.  That dog was probably poking around.  Mark
stuck out his chest, pleased at the way his muscular definition was obvious
even when fully clothed.  He turned around to look at himself from the
other side.

     Oh fuck.

     Mark froze.  In the doorway stood a shape, an enormous black hulk of a
shape.  Mark couldn't move.  The shape took a step forward.  Dirt.  It was
covered in dirt and filth from head to toe- its clothes were torn to shreds
and it had a rust red gash across its chest.  Another red spot bubbled on
its head.  It was so big.  The wind flew out of Mark's lungs in an attempt
to speak.  Nothing came.  The bear took another step forward.

     Mark somehow managed to put his hands in front of him.  "D-don't hurt
me... please..."  The bear didn't listen.  He advanced.  "Oh man, oh man,
oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh..."

     The bear stepped right up to Mark.  He smelled like sewage.  Mark
recoiled from the stench and closed his eyes.  He didn't want to open them.
"Please, man, I'll do anything..."  Mark's hand moved to the bed.  "...I'll
do anything as long as you don't..."

     WAM!  Mark slammed the wall clock into the side of the bear's head.
It splintered into a dilapidated parody of itself and sent little wooden
shavings flying about the room.  The bear shut his eyes tightly and
grimaced.  Then he grabbed Mark's shirt.

     "I... never said... that you could put this back on!"  The bear lifted
Mark up by his tee-shirt and flung him onto the bed.  He held Mark's head
down with one hand and ripped off the shirt with the other.  The bear held
the destroyed shirt in the air for a moment before flinging it over his
shoulder.

     Before Mark could catch his breathe he was sailing through the air
again, this time landing with a hard thud on the floor.  There was that
shag carpeting taste again.  He felt rough hands on his jeans.

     "These too, boy.  I never said you could wear these!  Rhhawa!"  Mark
heard a great rip from behind him and felt the fabric of his pants fly away
from his legs.  He squirmed on the floor, but the bear held him down.  He
was flipped onto his back.  The bear now had a knee on either side of
Mark's body.  Mark looked up helplessly at the bear's colossal form.  He
might as well have been trapped under a rock face.

     "Please, oh please oh please don't kill me.  I'm sorry, I'm really,
really, sorry, sir.  I'm sorry sir!  I'm..."

     "Shut up, boy!  No one said you can talk!"  The bear reached down to
Mark's crotch and took hold of the speedo's waistband.  With one quick
movement he ripped it off and shoved it in Mark's mouth.  Mark tasted the
grime.  "Bite it."

     Mark complied.  He bit down hard, he clenched his hands, he shut his
eyes.  He couldn't form any cogent thought whatsoever.  He just wanted to
come out of this alive.

     The bear stood up.  He loomed over Mark like an impenetrable fortress,
all muscle and sweat and dirt and blood.  Mark didn't think of moving for
even a second.  The bear looked right into Mark's eyes.  "Now here's what's
gonna happen: You're gonna keep that gag in your mouth til' I tell you to
take it out.  When I say so, you're gonna get on your knees in the back of
my shower and wash off all this shit you smothered me in.  Then we're going
to bed and you're going to think very, very hard about what you've done,
cause' I can tell ya right here and now that behavior like that is not
accepted."

     With this the bear yanked Mark up to his feet and clamped a hand over
his balls.  Mark groaned against the gag but did nothing.  "You're mine,
boy.  You hear?  Mine!"  Mark nodded weakly.  The bear let him go and Mark
fell to the floor in a heap.  One look from his captor was all he needed to
get back on his feet and, speedo lodged tightly in his mouth, go about
doing what the bear told him to do.

--

     Mark lay awake at the foot of the bear's bed.  He was naked and cold.
He had washed the bear's body dutifully, scrubbing every nook and cranny
with a rough washcloth, all the while gagged with his own speedo.  The
speedo was out now; the bear allowed him to put it aside for the night, but
Mark could still taste the nylon.  He spat quietly into the dark.

     Mark rocked himself lightly.  He couldn't get comfortable, and he
couldn't shake what had just happened from his mind.  His mouth curled into
a sneer as he remembered the bear shoving his foot into Mark's face,
rubbing the dirt of it across his forehead and demanding a more thorough
job.  The way he had made Mark lick his armpit clean, the way he had shoved
Mark's head between his legs and made Mark smell his muscled ass.  Mark
spat again.  He couldn't stop remembering.

     And then there was the worst part, the part that made Mark want to rip
out his own hair: he had liked it.  As he dragged the soapy washcloth
across the bear's body, he had wanted to touch it, to feel it, to be a part
of it any way he could.  Fear had given way to awe; he had felt his dick
grow and knew the bear could see everything.  But he couldn't stop.  If he
did the bear would punish him.  So Mark continued to run his hands over the
bear's muscular back, his broad shoulders and his beautiful legs.  When the
bear demanded that Mark shove his face into the bear's bare ass, Mark only
half-heartily resisted.  He was on his knees in the shower, staring up at
two perfect globes of muscle that belonged to a man he hated, a man he
wanted nothing more than to get away from.  Yet when Mark's face was buried
inside that butt, he didn't want to move.  In fact he had almost wanted the
bear to... to...

     Mark spat, so loudly this time that he heard the bear stir in the bed
above him.  Mark curled up into a little ball and kept his mouth shut.  The
ruffling of sheets stopped and was replaced by the bear's easy breathing.

     Mark wanted to get up and smash the bear's head into the bed frame.
But what good would it do?  He had already killed the bear once and that
barely slowed him down.  It was no use.  He was trapped.  Completely
trapped in an isolated house with a super-strong madman.  Mark closed his
eyes and tried to pretend it wasn't all true.  Maybe if he closed his eyes
tight enough the world would be different when he opened them.  He would be
back in his gym.  He would have guys fawning over him left and right.  He
would crush his opponents in the ring and fuck the hell out of them in the
bedroom.  Maybe...

     "mmfh...babeeh..."

     Mark opened his eyes.  The room was still there, but what had he just
heard?  He listened as closely as he could.  Nothing.  Had the bear just
talked in his sleep?

     "mrhr... oh yeah..."

     Yeah, the bear had definitely just spoken in his sleep.  It sounded
surreal, like it wasn't the bear's voice.  It didn't sound gruff or deep,
but rather soft, gentle.  Mark wound himself out of his fetal position and
sat up.  He could almost peek over the edge of the bed.

     "...Uh... pleaes...I...mhm..."  Mark raised his head a little higher
until he could see the bear's blanket-covered feet.  He sat still for a
moment, not sure of his next move, but when the bear didn't budge for
several seconds Mark decided to take the risk and stand up.

     The bear lay sprawled out on his bed, his body covered with a blanket
up to his waist.  In the dark, the steady rise and fall of his large, bare
chest made him look like some kind of machine, a mighty pump supplying
power to thousands of people.  His left arm was bent behind his head in
what looked like an uncomfortable position while his right arm reached
across his body to hover around his crotch.  Mark looked at the bear's
face.  It was unquiet.  The eyes were tensing and untensing, the brow was
pulled taut with effort and the mouth hung slightly open, like it was
waiting for something.

     "Urmh... baby..."  Mark wasn't sure what to make of this.  He watched
while the bear massaged his crotch and puckered his lips, wondering with a
smile whether this was a regular occurrence.  The man must be in a serious
dry spell if he had to retreat into his dreams for sex.

     Mark climbed onto the mattress and put his knees on either side of the
bear's legs.  He gently pulled back the covers, careful not to make much
noise.  The bear's cock sprang up before him.  It looked hard as a rock.
Mark held his hand over it.  It must be at least eight inches long and
thick besides.  Mark bit his lip and grabbed his own cock.  It was getting
hard.  His blood pumped.  This could be interesting.

     "Oh, that feels... feels so good..."  The bear's hand ran up and down
his own shaft, gently massaging it.  Mark moved in.  He moved the bear's
busy hand away and took up the job himself.  Mark caressed the bear's cock
lightly, dragging his hand up and down, up and down in a steady rhythm that
eventually became stronger, rougher.  Mark saw the bear gasp in his sleep
as the switch was made, saw him breathe more heavily as Mark picked up the
pace and tightened his grip, saw him open his mouth and whimper meekly, saw
him open his eyes.

     The bear raised his eyes slowly, not focusing.  Mark didn't stop.  He
kept up his work, getting stronger with each passing moment.  The bear
clenched his hands weakly, his control returning.  Up and down, up and
down.  He opened his eyes wider, squinting in the dark.  And then he flung
them wide open.  The bear stared for a moment, seemingly paralyzed.  Mark
acted immediately.

     "Shh...  Baby, shhh...  It's okay."  Mark moved his free hand
in-between the bear's thighs.  "I'm taking care of ya."  The bear stared at
Mark, his face still gripped with shock, his half-clenched hands raised
slightly off the bedspread.  "Just relax."  With this Mark performed a
powerful downstroke on the bear's dick, causing a few wisps of cum to leak
out the tip.  The bear threw his head back and shuddered.  Mark smiled and
continued to stroke the bear while his other hand dug its way further
in-between his legs.  "Yeah, you like that.  Shh... It's okay.  I like it
too.  Ya wanna know what else you'll like?"  The bear swallowed and looked
up.  Mark smiled and raised himself a little off the bed.

     All seven inches of Mark's hard dick stood at attention for the bear
to see.  Mark wiggled his body from side to side, watching with glee as the
bear's eyes bounced in unison.  "It's for you, baby..."  The bear's thighs
parted slightly under Mark's hand.  He began to lightly rub the bear's
asshole.  "It's for you, if you want it."  Mark rubbed harder.  The bear
puffed out his cheeks.  "Spread your legs."

     The bear's legs inched apart, slowly at first, but faster as Mark
began to really dig into his ass.  Mark readjusted himself on the bed.  His
one hand still working the bear's dick, Mark pushed the other against the
bear's ass, watching and smiling as he made the bear pant.  "You like that,
boy?"  The bear just gritted his teeth.  "I said, do you LIKE that?"  Mark
shoved a finger deep into the bear's ass, earning a groan from up front.
"Good.  Then you'll love this."

     Mark dived into the bear's ass face-first and forcefully shoved in his
tongue.  The bear squirmed as Mark whipped his tongue around his insides,
massaging each corner until he got a moan of affirmation.  He gripped the
bear's hard, massive thighs like handlebars, using them as leverage to bury
himself ever deeper.  The bear thrashed in his bed and arched his back.
"Oh man... Fuck!"

     Mark yanked himself out of the bear's ass and licked his lips.  The
bear's eyes were shut tight.  His mouth was open in a silent moan.  "Okay
boy, ya ready for the main course?"  Mark pushed the head of his penis
against the bear's waiting asshole.  The bear opened his mouth wider.
"C'mon boy, you gotta tell me you want it or you get nothing."  Mark
pressed harder and ran his hands over the bear's heaving chest.  "C'mon."

     Very quietly: "...I want it."  Mark grinned.

     "Good boy."  Mark rammed the whole length of his dick into the bear.
The bear screamed.  Mark laughed.  "Oh, good boy!"  Harder and faster and
harder and faster.  Mark threw his head back and slapped the bear's
upturned ass.  "Yeah, you like that, bitch?"  Mark slammed in his dick to
the hilt and bent over the bear.  The bear's face was quivering.  His eyes
were slammed shut, his nose was puffing out rapid breathes and his mouth
was opening and closing with pleasure one moment and pain the next.  Mark
loved it.  He leaned over the bear until their faces were almost touching,
all the while ramming ever deeper and faster.  "How much do you love this,
boy, huh?"  He licked the bear's face.  "How much do you fucking love
this?"  He kissed the bear deeply, breathing him into his lungs, pushing
himself into the bear's throat.

     A hand on his shoulder.  Mark broke the kiss.  He was shoved
backwards.  "Get out." Deep and angry.

     Mark grunted as he was shoved to the edge of his bed.  He slipped out
of the bear and tumbled over onto the floor.  He shook his head.
     Steps.  Mark climbed onto his hands and knees.  He looked up.  The
bear suddenly stood before him, looking ten stories tall, his body
glistening with sweat and his dick dripping with cum.  Mark opened his
mouth.

     "Ouhfff..."  Mark was picked up like a feather and thrown face-first
onto the bed.  He started to rise but was shoved into the sheets by a
powerful hand on the back of his head.  Mark struggled uselessly.  He felt
something on his butt.  Something big.  Something hard.  He gasped.

     The sound of the bear's voice came loud and distinct from behind him.
"Respect, boy.  Respect."  And then the room turned upside-down.

     Mark opened his mouth but no words came.  His eyes felt like they
would pop out of their sockets.  Something was ripping through his insides,
stretching his body beyond its breaking point.  He arched his neck and
grabbed the bedspread for dear life, and suddenly he found the words.
"FUUUUCCKKKK!"

     Mark buried his head in the bedspread, but the slap-slap-slap of the
bear's hips slamming against his ass came through loud and clear.  He bit
down on the sheet, clawed and flailed at the mattress, but it just kept
coming.  Harder and faster and more painful then anything he had ever
experienced.  And then a change.  Mark felt the bear's dick penetrate into
the deepest part of him and suddenly felt nauseous with pleasure.  He took
in a sharp breath.  Out and IN!  Mark breathed out in a rush.  "Oh GOD!"
His tongue lolled out.

     Slap and slap and slap and...  Mark was crying.  He was crying and
smiling wider than he could ever remember, moaning freely into the air.  He
stopped clutching the bedspread and began to mercilessly rack his dick.
Cum shot through it like a river.  Before he knew it...

     "OOUUGHGHH, GOD!"  A warm wave of pleasure.  Hot cum all over his
hands, all over the bedpost, shooting out in a warm, gooey flood.  "OH!"

     Mark plopped his head on the bedspread.  But before he could relax he
was flipped onto his back, shoved completely onto the bed and treated to an
eyeful of the bear kneeling over him with his gigantic cock between his
hands.  Back and forth went the bear's strong hands, massaging and
caressing as his huge muscles bulged with the excitement of the moment.
Back and forth, back and forth until waves of white, hot cum exploded all
over Mark's face.  The bear continued to squeeze the last drops out of his
dick as Mark panted, his face turned towards the ceiling.

     At last the bear took his hands off his dick and crossed his arms in
front of his chest.  He gazed down at Mark, his eyes hard, his mouth set.
"Well, boy, did you like that?"

     Mark licked his lips.  "Yes, sir."

--

     Storefronts passed by the driver-side window as Mark hung his head in
the open air.  They were in the city now.  There was the liquor store, the
launder mat, the other liquor store...  Mark's apartment building should be
on the left.  Yep, home sweet home.

      The truck pulled into the parking lot across from the complex.  The
bear parked his vehicle clumsily, almost knocking into the Sedan next to
him.  Mark gave a small smirk as the truck jutted to a stop.

     Mark shifted in his seat.  The sweatpants he had borrowed from the
bear were too big, and the muscle shirt hung low about his frame.  Still,
it had been nice of the man to lend him clothes at all.  He could have had
him go naked.  Mark turned to face the driver.  "Thanks.  For driving here.
And the clothes."  Mark picked at the pants awkwardly.  "Will you want them
back?"

     The bear chuckled.  "Naw, that's okay, boy.  You keep `em.  Consider
it reparation for me wrecking your car back there."

     It was Mark's turn to laugh.  "Yeah, huh, well, it was an eyesore, and
I like my Porche more anyway..."  Mark leaned against the window.  Had
anyone fed the goldfish while he was gone?  "So, uh, you feel like seeing
my place?"

     The bear smiled slightly.  "I think we spent enough time in a bed over
the last couple days to last a while, boy.  It's time I let you go."

     "Yeah... you're right..."  Mark lowered his eyes, looking at his hands
as they fidgeted.  He wasn't quite ready to leave.  "May I, uh, may I have
one last feel, sir?"

     The bear looked at Mark for a good, hard moment.  "Depends.  Do ya
think ya learned your lessen?"

     "Yessir!" Mark shouted immediately.  "Oh yes sir!"

     "I think you did to.  Here ya go."  With that the bear lifted his
right arm and flexed.  His bicep shot up like a rocket.  Mark grabbed it
immediately, massaging the cool, hard muscle between his fingers, his mouth
hanging open in desire.

     "May I kiss it, sir?"  Mark moved one hand down to the bear's
shoulder, brushing against his tank top.

     "Go ahead, boy."

     "Thank you, sir."  Mark gave the bear's bicep a long, succulent kiss,
loving the taste of power in his mouth.  "You're incredible, sir.
Incredible..."

     The bear pulled his arm out from under Mark's mouth and put it on the
steering wheel.  Mark's face fell, but the bear remained resolute.  "That's
all you get, little guy.  But don't worry.  I'll come knocking when I'm in
need of ya, and you've got my number if you need what I can give."  Mark's
eyes drifted hungrily to the bear's crotch.  "But for now you gotta go
start up your life again.  Just remember..."  The bear clamped a hand on
Mark's crotch, making Mark gasp and shut his eyes in pleasure.  "...to give
respect where it's due."

     Mark whimpered.  "Yes sir."  Marks legs began to slowly slide apart.
"Always sir."

     The bear removed his hand.  Mark opened his eyes and looked over.  The
bear looked back, his big eyes commanding all the attention Mark had.  "You
been a real good boy.  Now go on back."  Mark looked at the bear and
sighed.  He turned the door handle.

     The night air was cool against Mark's face.  He looked up at his
apartment building, wondering at the fact that he had lived in this place
for so long.  It seemed smaller somehow, different.  He turned around and
leaned against the truck's window.  The bear gave him an impatient look.
"Sir, can I ask you a quick question?"

     The bear frowned for a second before nodding his head.

     "What's your name, sir?"

     The bear turned away from Mark and adjusted his hands on the steering
wheel.  As he put the car into reverse, he flashed Mark one quick, sly
smile.

     Mark took his hands off the window as the bear's truck pulled out of
the parking space.  He watched it roll into the street and drive into the
night.

     Mark took in a big gulp of night air and breathed out slowly.  He put
his hands in his pockets and walked towards the building.  He'd been gone
from the gym for a couple of days.  He hoped Chuck, his deputy manager,
hadn't had any problems.  That Richard guy always monopolized the fly
machine.  Usually Mark had to drag him off it.  Chuck could handle it.  He
wondered if James had showed up.  Oh man, he was gonna have to apologize to
James.  Yeah, he'd do that tomorrow.