Accidental Valentines
#2 of Diary of a Polar Bear
The familiar, gentle ping in my head woke me early.
Awareness days.
They come with a little mental radar display that tells you what's around you. This one told me: white is bad, red is good. You're white.
I groaned and rolled over in bed. I wanted to sleep in, but there was that steady radar beep.
What awareness am I supposed to be aware of, again? I thought. I always felt guilty if I wasn't at the hospital early to help with screenings, and the fact that I registered as "bad" didn't help either.
I peeked open an eye to look at the big calendar display on the wall--which had apparently redecorated itself in red and white for the occasion.
February 14
Oh. Of course. I said screw the radar and went back to bed.
I didn't let the familiar, gentle ping in my head keep me from sleeping in.
When I got up, the bow was right where I knew it would be, right by my bed.
Right where it would stay for the rest of the day.
Suppose you ignore the dubious issues of consent involved in playing matchmaker with Cupid's arrow and making people fall in love.
Suppose you ignore the sheer psychosis involved in being asked to induce love by firing projectile weapons at someone who, if they were willing, would not need them.
Even ignoring the ethical monstrousness of it all, at the end of the day you're still a six-foot-nine mountain of polar bear going around town with a longbow and shooting people.
Needless to say, Valentine's was not my favorite holiday.
My distaste for the day only went further downhill when my computer failed to start up. The darned thing was brand new and had no business breaking down so soon.
I checked the power cables, reseated them, tried again: no luck.
I checked the power cables again, reseated them again, and tried again, expecting a different result just for insanity's sake: no luck.
Jiggle the power button, nothing. It was the lights on the tower that were all dead, but I checked the monitor anyway: no, it had power and everything seemed to be in order there.
I grabbed the box and brought it out to the Durango, securing it in the front seat and taking the drive down to Sistemler to get it looked at.
It was a Friday morning, so the computer shop was empty when I arrived. I hefted the computer up onto the front counter and looked for a bell to ring, as the staff seemed absent as well, though I did sense the extra ping of a white dot nearby.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," said a voice from below. "One sec."
I looked down to see a tubby gray mouse, maybe a foot tall and dressed in the most adorable little overalls, climbing a footstool like a ladder up to the counter.
"Hi, I'm Mockridge," he said, with a polite half-bow in lieu of an awkward handshake. "What can I do for you today?"
I put my paw on the computer. "Won't turn on. Tried everything."
"Did you try turning it off and back on again?"
"It won't--"
"Joking, joking, I heard you." He turned to look it over. "Oh, I can tell you what's wrong already. You got it from this store?"
I nodded. "I did get the warranty."
"Wouldn't even be a problem. Half the computers that came out of here last month are dying. Dumb cat who built them was using parts from the discard pile. Boss gave him the bum's rush soon as he found out--we've been fixing them gratis for weeks. On the house, I mean."
"I know what gratis means."
"Sorry, sorry, you never know. Anyway, I can definitely fix this in a day or two, we'll just need to fill out some paperwork. One moment."
He ran back down the footstool under the counter and re-emerged a moment later carrying what to his paws would have been a fairly large tablet, but to my eyes was a small touchscreen phone. He held it up and scanned the label on the back of the computer.
"Okay, are you... Poli..." He swiped at the screen to see the rest of the name and tried to patch the pieces together.
"Polidefkis Thalarkoudaki," I supplied. "Just call me Pollux."
"'Polydeuces "thal"-cub'?" he said. "What's 'thal-' mean? Hold on, don't tell me--" He tried to switch apps.
"Can we just--" I started, then heard the ping in my head again. He's trying to impress you, came the thought.
I shut my eyes, counted to five, and opened them again. The mouse was lost in a Google search, trying to figure out the etymology of my last name. It'd be cute, if... no, I guess it was just kind of cute.
I felt my magic twitch and a piece of folded paper slipped out of my computer, landing at Mockridge's feet. He put down his tablet and picked it up. "'Roses'--" He looked up at me as if I'd turned into a potato, but returned to reading the valentine that'd manifested. "'Roses are red / So are some newts / What time are you off? / You're totally cutes.'"
I refused to be ashamed, on principle. I am not responsible for the terrible poetry my subconscious mind will compose on the spur of the moment.
"Sorry," I said. "Holiday accoutrements tend to happen around me. You are cute though, and I'd be honored if--"
"6:30," he said, smiling at me, and returned to his tablet. "Speaking of which, I'd better finish getting you checked in. Address and phone number still the same?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Okay, I'm going to need your system password so I can do diagnostics once I get it back on..."
I refused to be ashamed, on principle, even though it was my conscious mind that was responsible for picking probably the most embarrassing password possible.
"'I love eating diapers.'"
"I'm sorry?"
"That's the password. 'I love eating diapers.' Just like a sentence: capital I, spaces, period at the end, and I totally understand if you're reconsidering 6:30 at this point."
"You know, the traditional dodge is to give something entirely innocent as your password, then have us call you in to type it yourself when it doesn't work, and cursing us out for not knowing how to spell. So, bonus points for honesty balance out the, uh, diaprophagy. No wait, I should know that word... pann... pannophagy? Good evening, miss! I'll be with you in a minute."
A slender lioness had entered the store, a laptop in one paw and a cub in the other.
"I think I have everything I need, Mister Pollux. I hope to have it done today and I'll bring it by on my way home. Have a great day!"
Despite the mouse's assurance, I was entirely sure that the disclosure of my unorthodox private life would be a deal-breaker and I didn't have high hopes for the evening.
Nevertheless at quarter to seven I felt a ping on my radar, half a minute before the ring of the doorbell.
"You know, you're really tall," Mockridge said, as I opened the door. Standing on my computer, which was in a little red wagon, gave him height enough to reach the doorbell, but he still had to look up to see my bellybutton.
"Both of us are on tail ends of the bell curve," I said, bending down to grab the handle of the wagon, and brought mouse and computer into the house.
"Speaking of tail ends," he said, sitting on the computer as I rolled it back to my room, "What all are you into? Besides, ah, the ground already covered. Er, and besides doing your room up like some kind of ?????..."
"It's Valentine's decoration," I sighed. "And, I dunno, I'm pretty wide open. With our sizes though, we might want to explore what we can do before we start ruling things out."
I lifted the mouse to the unfortunate red-and-white heart-patterned sheets of my bed before bending down to put the computer back in place under the desk and plugging everything back in.
"You ain't kidding about the 'wide open' part. That's a walk-in ass, right there."
I looked back to see the mouse gaping at me over the edge of the bed. "I mean, don't get me wrong," he said. "It's totally hot. But you and me going at it that way would be the proverbial hot dog down a hallway."
I laughed. "I'm letting you get away with that because that's a jab at both of us."
He smirked at me, ears twitching. "And what would you do to me if I weren't getting away with it?"
I got up, dusted my paws off on my hips, and sat on him.
Now, under normal circumstances, being sat on by a bear who weighs seven hundred twenty pounds can be expected to hurt quite a bit, even with all the padding.
Of course, not every 720lb bear has a soft and puffy hyper tailhole big enough to swallow a mouse whole.
I felt him sink into my ass, squirming hard, his shouts muffled by my body's thick fat. I ground down harder, lifting my gut to reach for my stiffening cock as I felt him disappear into my rump.
I lay back to lighten the load of my gut, pounding my cock while my asslips closed over the little round mouse beating against the inner walls of my rectum and yelling to be let out. I paid him no mind. The intestines don't make a very difficult maze; I knew he'd be able to find his way out on his own.
The sensations of his struggles were amazing--while I could probably manage to squeeze a full-sized person into my ass if I tried, I'd never had the opportunity to do so with an interested party, and while Mockridge may not have been interested himself, the pounding of his fists against my prostate brought me damn close to shooting my load on the spot.
But then, too soon, I felt his paws pushing through my anus and pulling it open, making room for him to escape. "You are lucky I don't have to worry about fresh air," he said, "though I'm sure I never expected I'd have to put my talent to use up a bear's ass."
Nevertheless, I could feel the mouse collapse against my thighs and take several deep breaths. I couldn't blame him; though I couldn't see him over the curve of my gut, I could definitely smell him--and I guess it must have been awful for a guy not used to it.
"You all right, mouse?"
"Surprisingly. I-- hold on, is that your dick?"
I moved my paw away but he stood up and caught my belly before it could roll back to cover it. "Holy crap it is. Buddy, my dick's bigger than yours!"
This time I did blush, and even though it would've been impossible for him to see it where he was, I covered my face anyway.
And then he started rubbing it in--literally. The mouse started grinding his cock against mine, and I could tell he had plenty of cock to do it with--he might've been two inches long, huge for his size and double the length of my shaft, which lost a lot for being mostly buried in fat.
And despite the sudden sting of shame at my poor endowments, I was still very close to shooting, thanks to just having had a mouse bigger than my head punch his way out of my ass. Before I could give so much as a groan of warning, Mockridge's cock set mine off, and I was blasting him with my pent-up load.
Either I was more worked up than usual today or the mouse was overwhelmed with surprise--either way, I felt him tumble back and off the bed, landing with a crash.
"You all right, mouse?" I asked again, struggling to get up.
"Ouch," he said. "What kind of person keeps archery equipment by their bed?"
DAMMIT CHEKHOV! I thought, now trying to fight my blubber to roll away from the edge of the bed and make a quick getaway, but damn my weight, there was no way I could get away in time.
I was halfway to the middle of the bed when Mockridge pulled himself back up.
Ping went the radar. White is bad, red is good.
The mouse's blip converted from white to red.
'Red is good' my ass, I thought.
"I thought one of those arrows stabbed me," he said. "But I'm not bleeding, so I guess I'm all right."
I nodded, unsure what to say. Looking at the poor mouse covered in cum and dirty from my ass, my own blip converted as I realized that I was responsible and that I ought to do the right thing by him--whatever it was.
It wouldn't be an ideal relationship by any means, but it was something.
Mockridge resumed stroking his shaft, taking his place between my legs again. "I do love this big ass of yours," he said, nuzzling against my hole. "I think... I'll finish up... inside..."
My dick stiffened up again as he pushed his way back into my ass. As I felt my hole close up again with my mouse inside, I tried to reach down to jerk myself off again, but was still too exhausted from the first orgasm to hold my belly aside.
Instead I just lay back and let him explore my insides, my helpless arousal building in tandem with my worries about his freedom to choose.
There'd be some hard conversations later.