Dragon Romance: Dragon Fire (Paranormal Shapeshifter Hero Protector Firefighter Romance) (Fantasy Shifter Werewolf BBW Pregnancy Women’s Fiction Short Stories) (75 page)

“What are they?” Rosy said. “Where should we go?”

“Well,” Elion said. “There is this planet, Zeen-8, which is a planet dedicated entirely to learning and the mind. They have the biggest library in the galaxy. It is the size of your England. And it is all physical books. The inhabitants will accept nothing less. And then there is this planet…” He pointed to another green light. “This is a planet that is just evolving, full of dangerous wildlife. Only researchers go there, or social experimenters.”

Rosy imagined Zeen-8, tried to imagine a library as big as a country, tried to imagine herself walking through vast halls filled with books. She saw fingers on the pages and a memory of her girlhood came to her. Mom, Dad, all her friends… long dead. But there was a hint of pleasure behind the pain: at least she had Elion.

He put his hand on her arm and said: “On Zeen-8 they perform marriage ceremonies between different species. They are vocal proponents of inter-species marriage.”

“What are you saying?” Rosy said.

Elion smiled. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

***

If you had told Rosy a year earlier that she would be standing in the biggest library in the galaxy with her alien husband beside her, she would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. But here she was, walking the halls of The Grand Library. She was, at first, worried that she wouldn’t be able to read the texts, but it turned out they had software that translated the text for her (through her goggles). She put on the goggles now and started reading a text written by a being much more intelligent and evolved than any human. The ideas were big and hard to understand, but Rosy found some solace anyway. She could come to grips with these ideas, with her husband beside her. She had found knowledge and love, and, soon, life.

Elion put his hand on her bump. “We will be late for the doctor,” he said, feeling the baby within her.

“What will it be, Elion?” she asked, nervous.

“It will be a beautiful Ka-human child,” he said. “It will be the most beautiful child ever to have lived.”

***

In later years, as she and Elion found a permanent place on Zeen-8, Rosy thought of Earth less and less. Their child was a girl and her name was Joanne, after Rosy’s mother. She was worried that the other children would tease her, but she needn’t have. The schools on Zeen-8 brought a whole new meaning to the phrase
cultural diversity
. There were species from all over the galaxy. This was a haven.

She spent so much time in the library that it was only natural she began working there. At first she only dealt with software issues for translation, at which she’d become proficient. And then she decided to write her own book. It turned out that abduction and slavery were not at all uncommon in the Known Galaxy. There were several books published on it already. Rosy decided to add her voice to the issue.

She was writing a chapter one day, overlooking a beautiful vista of rolling yellow and red hills, when Elion came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “How is it going?” he said.

She blinked twice, pausing the program, and took off her goggles. “It is going well,” she said. She turned and looked at her husband. Behind him, Joanne was crouching, a mischievous grin on her five-year-old face. “If I can help just one person, I will be happy.”

“I’m sure you will,” Elion said, and bent down to kiss her.

She vaguely remembered once being surprised by his height. Now it was as normal and everyday as the intricate programs with which she wrote her book. One thing was eternal, Rosy had discovered: words. Words changed across language and were used in different formats, but they always remained. Every culture that developed beyond prehistory had words, and eventually they wrote those words down.

Rosy was not sure if she was human anymore, but she didn’t care.

She was surrounded by love and lust and happiness and knowledge.

The last sentence of her book was:
It turned out alright in the end
.

THE END

Bonus Story 17 of 20

Let’s get the personal stuff out of the way so I can tell you how the grumpiest woman in all existence trapped me into marriage, why I can’t get out and why I don’t want to.

My name is Crag Boulder. That’s ‘Crag’ not ‘Craig’. I found out my parents did it to me on purpose. They said it was to give me a sense of humor. It gave me a good sense of who to knock down and how many times, but I don’t remember laughing through any of it. I changed it to Craig Baldwin. Someone in my unit found out about it and now my friends call me ‘Crag’.

I’m six feet tall and weigh 240 pounds. My body looks more or less normal – muscle weighs more than fat. My chest, shoulders and arms are a little thicker than most men’s, but I don’t stick out in a crowd. The Seals demand a high degree of physical fitness. I can do a thousand pushups and a thousand crunches in one day. I’m not going to be modest about that. I gave my sweat and pain to get where I am.

I serve as a Navy Seal in a special unit. I’ll tell you about that later.

Right now, I have a broken heart. The girl I loved cheated on me. I hate this. I’m a guy. I don’t like emotions, and I don’t know how to handle the negative ones. I have to drive from my duty station in San Diego to an assignment in British Columbia. I’m not making a lot of progress because I have to pull over now and then to wipe the tears away. My mind picks out the best memories I have of Carol and me, and goes over them again and again. Like the time we went to Disneyland and she found a lost child. She was so loving and cute when she held the little girl’s hand and took her to the ‘lost and found’. Then she picks up a stranger in a bar and fucks him in our bed. She did it at a time when she knew I’d walk in on them. Damn. I wish I could get the image of them together out of my head. I’d packed and left before they could get their clothes on.

I finally get across the border, and I’m in this little bar in a small town in British Columbia called Port Hardy. It’s located on the Northern tip of Vancouver Island. My orders told me to come here and wait, that someone would contact me.

A woman sits beside me. I glance at her in the mirror and cringe. My mind brings up a quotation from the movie ‘Casablanca’.
Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine
. It’s a shame. She’s really pretty. Until she opens her mouth. Then she turns into a bitch.In high school, Honoria Winchester sat next to me in World History. She dismissed me within seconds of seeing me. I really don’t blame her. In high school, I was six feet tall but weighed no more than one forty. I had no social skills, no athletic skills. Nothing to interest her. She started with the way I used my pen as I took notes. She went on to criticize my posture, my clothes and my hair style. Even the way I walked. And she never stopped. I hated World History because I knew she’d be there.

Guess who the woman sitting next to me is? Go ahead. I’ll wait.

That’s right. It’s Honoria Winchester. ‘Honoria’ is never shortened. She’s never called ‘Honey’ or ‘Nory’. Always ‘Honoria’. When I think about her, I change the emphasis into ‘Hon-or-ia’’, rhyming it with gonorrhea so it sounds like a disease.

I watch her like a hawk. Having someone recognize you on a mission rarely has a good outcome. I’m not on a mission. It’s simply a duty assignment, but I can’t stop the heightened awareness. It’s a habit.

I watch her gather herself. I know she’s working up to something and I’m going to be the lucky recipient.

I’ll try to be objective when I describe her. She’s good looking, except she doesn’t smile. She’s tall and watches her posture. As for the things guys notice, she’s got really good breasts, full and high on her chest, a small waist and womanly hips. Nice legs too. Big deal. She still makes me want to run away.

I have to mention that I’m wearing civilian clothes. I like to buy my clothes baggy to hide my military body. She doesn’t realize I don’t weigh one forty anymore.

She lifts her head and says, “Craig Baldwin. What a surprise. What are you doing in this tiny little town?”

My mind is screaming.
This isn’t a coincidence. She’s here for a reason. Run!!!

I say, “Being a tourist. Honoria, it’s nice to see you again. What have you been doing since high school?”

She loses a little of the smile she’s had painted on her lips. “I’m in the Navy. I do recruiting.”

I hold up a hand. “No need to recruit me. I already joined.”

“That’s wonderful. What’s your rating?” (‘Rating’ means job title.)

“I’m a clerk in the Business Management department at Kitsap Navy Base near Seattle,” I say.

A little smile plays around her mouth. I like to watch for micro-expressions, those tiny, quick muscle contractions that tell more about a person that they want. The smile I see tells me she thinks ‘file clerk’ is the best I can do and that she expects nothing more from me. I add, because my clerk persona would do it, “I’m an E-6. I just got a promotion.”

I don’t tell her I’m not a clerk. I’m a member of an elite team. The SEALs select talented and physically capable members of the Navy to join their outfit. A group called the Special Activities Division (SAD) recruits their men out of the SEALs. A higher group called the Special Operations Group (SOG) pick out the best of the SAD group to join their unit. That’s me. The best of the best of the best. I told you I wouldn’t be modest about anything I’ve worked for.

She says, “Pardon me. I have to make a phone call.”

She heads for the ladies’ room and comes back in three minutes. She’s got her smile settled for the duration. Someone told her to do what she was ordered and not to question it.

She says, “Could we go someplace more private? I’d like to be alone with you.”

Alarm bells sound in my mind so loudly that I can’t remember the tune I’d been playing in my head for three hours. I say, “Alright. I’d like that too.”

“Good. Let’s go to your place.”

She leads me to her car, an older non-descript sedan, and I direct her to my apartment.

There’s several things wrong with this scene. She’d no more drive an older sedan than she would take all her clothes off and walk into a biker bar. She broadcasts her superiority. Most telling, she doesn’t walk beside me. She walks in front, as if she doesn’t want to be seen with me.

As soon as the door closes, she’s on top of me. Literally, on top of me. She flings herself on my chest with such force that we fall on top of a sofa. She’s surprisingly strong. She’s kissing me.

A little word about one of the differences between men and woman. This is a generalization, but it’s useful. Women have to be in love to feel strong sexual feelings, and they’re directed toward the man they love. Men don’t. If a woman presses her body against us or shows us more of her body than usual, we don’t care about our feelings for the woman. We look or touch and caress with a complete lack of conscience. Sorry, ladies.

I enjoy having Honoria on top of me. She wiggling and kissing. I catalog the individual parts of her wiggle. I can feel the soft mounds of her breasts rub across my chest. Her skin and lips are delightfully soft. Her thighs bump against mine, and they’re fit and taut.

She kisses my neck twice then bites me.

She bites my neck. I feel two little pin points enter my skin just over the carotid artery.

I have time to say, “What the...” before she’s off me and across the room, wiping her lips with a tissue. Her expression would curdle milk. At last, the Honoria I have come to know and love makes an appearance. I say, “You bit me.”

She says, “I had to. I was ordered to. I tried to get out of it. That’s why I went to the Ladies Room, but the CO told me I had to do it.”

I stand up facing her. “Tell me why you would bite my neck.”

“I did it to recruit you.” Her voice holds real regret. “‘Draft’ is more accurate. You’re now part of Seal Team 13.” (Our SEAL numbers only go to twelve.) She turns toward me, and I see the first signs of real emotion. “I’m sorry. Your country needs you in our unit. It’s unfair, and I can see why you’d be upset. We did it to you without your consent. You’re in now, and you can’t get out. You’ll be in it for the rest of your life.”

My surprise and worry are easy to see. I can’t speak.

She says, “You’re not human any more. You’re another species.” She bites her lower lip. “It’s easier to show you than tell you. Stay where you are.” She reaches for her zipper and stops. “Don’t be afraid. What you see won’t hurt you. You’ll need to touch me to make sure I’m real.”

She takes her clothes off. It’s not hard. She is only wearing a dress and panties. She’s beautiful but as distant as the top of Mount Fuji. I see her close her eyes and concentrate.

A dense cloud surrounds her and hides her completely. When it dissipates, I see a bear. A real Kodiak grizzly bear. Damn, those things are huge. She’s more than five feet high at the shoulder and big. I would guess she weighs more than eight hundred pounds. She’s eight feet from snout to tail. The room we’re in just got a lot smaller.

She told me not to be afraid so I’m not afraid. Honest. I move next to her and run my hand along her back. It’s real fur, and this great menacing thing is alive.

She grunts at me, and I remember this is Honoria I’m touching. I back away, and the cloud hides her again. She’s still naked when it goes away.

She does the next thing on purpose. I’m not sure why, but it hurt. Maybe, she wants to keep me in my place. Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I know women don’t act this way unless they mean it.

She doesn’t cover herself with her hands or scurry into her clothes. She doesn’t even turn around. She flaunts her nudity. She’s telling me I don’t matter. Not just to her. She thinks I don’t matter to anyone.

I have some dignity. I won’t tell her what I’ve done since high school or my real rating in the Navy. It would mean more contact than I want, and I’d have to spend more time with her. I really don’t want to spend more time with her.

She walks toward the door and opens it. She turns around before she leaves and says, “You’re now a werebear. Look it up. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up and take you to the base.” With that, she leaves.

I really don’t like this woman.

Here’s what I found out about werebears. We’re old as a species. Greek mythology says that Zeus had sex with a girl named Callisto who gave birth to a son named Arcas. Hera became jealous of the girl and transformed her into a bear. All of her descendents became werebears as well.

The literature says that werebears change during the full moon. I watched Honoria change when she wanted to. I’m assuming that I’ll be able to do the same thing.

Ordinary grizzly bears can run long distances at twenty to thirty miles an hour. They climb trees and hunt with an agility that’s legend. Imagine an NFL lineman with a temper. I’m a soldier. I kill people when necessary so I pay attention to the part that says a grizzly has a killing circle twelve feet wide. Make that an NFL linemen with extraordinary strength, balance and speed and, not just a temper, but an ability to kill without hesitation.

The next morning. She knocks on my door at 0800. I’m ready. I’ve been ready for an hour. She says, “Good Morning” and that’s it all the way to our duty station ten miles away.

The base is very small, no more than a city block in size. It’s got the usual gray buildings and a fence around the outside. My first clue that I’m not in Kansas any more is the size of the fence. On most bases, the fence is decorative, more to designate ownership than do any actual work. This fence is thirty feet high, with razor wire on the top. It has guard towers every fifty yards. I notice that they have heavy machine guns mounted on each tower and the guns point away from the compound.

We’re let in the front gate. Most of the SPs (Shore Patrol, which is the Navy’s version of MPs) will allow a slight smile to settle on their faces when they greet anyone they know. Our SP doesn’t smile when he sees Honoria. It’s a bit unsettling.

She leads me to a small building in the middle of the compound, and I meet my Commanding Officer. He’s Major Dick Southern. I like him. I’ve served under all sorts of commanders. My favorite kind looks like a fit college instructor. He doesn’t have any false identities. Some military commanders think they need to look tough. Actually, they’re playing at being tough and mean, and it shows. Major Southern doesn’t. He’s about fifty with graying hair, a flat belly and an interested expression.

I salute. He returns it then shakes my hand. He looks me in the eye when he does it. He says, “I apologize for the way you were recruited. It wasn’t fair or right, but we don’t have a lot of choice. We can’t advertise, obviously; and, we have to have the right kind of people to do our missions.”

Honoria interrupts, “Major, I don’t see why we need a file clerk. Or why it has to be him.”

The Major looks at me. “You told her you were a file clerk?”

“I did. I don’t like to broadcast my position.”

“I understand.” He pauses and gives weight to his next words. Words he speaks directly to Honoria. “Honoria, this man is as far away from a file clerk as you can get.” He turns to me. “You’re now a werebear. What do you know about werebears?”

“They’re big and can change from human to bear form at will. I watched Honoria do it. I couldn’t make it happen last night.”