Smokey - In the beginning By Strega It was not the first bear Ranger Smith chased from the campground. It happened every year, either mother bears leading their cubs to raid the trash bins and coolers or wandering solitary bears attracted by the same treats. Most often the bears were peaceful enough and some were quite intelligent. It wasn't unheard-of for one of the latter to "visit" with a camper or two and on the other hand it also happened that the occasional camper inexplicably disappeared, leaving tent and supplies behind. In the ranger's opinion the best bet to keep bears out of people's beds and people out of the insides of bears was just to keep the bears away altogether. "That's right. Git, you!" Smith clanged his shovel against a tree and the latest grizzly bear to visit the campground disappeared into the undergrowth. He'd seen this one before and was ready to add him to the "problem bear" list at the first sign of trouble. Problems bears got trapped, collared, relocated or even shot if they kept at their naughty ways. This bear was one of the smart ones and he'd visited the campground more times than the Ranger knew. He watched from the bushes as Smith made his rounds. Ranger Smith was a tall, fat man whose body had the zeppelin shape of too much food and poor condition despite the mile or two a day he walked on his rounds. He wasn't as tall as the bear when it stood on its hind legs but was just about as bulky in some parts. On many occasions the bear watched Smith go from campsite to campsite and he was familiar with his routine. Collect camping fees from those who hadn't paid for that day, put out unattended campfires. Yell at people for breaking rules, clean the sites...and exact fees from those who broke the rules. It was a peculiar but well known fact that some animals hereabouts were just about as smart as men and this bear was one of them. Some could even talk and in fact the forest service mascot was a talking bear. This big young bear had seen 'Smokey' on television through cabin windows and though the one on the screen was clearly not a real bear, obviously (to a bear, anyway) humans accepted the idea of a park ranger who happened to have fur and fangs. Therefore a bear should be able to collect campground fees and fines. This bear could not talk but he understood the concept of money and what it could buy. Money could buy food, for one thing, and a big young bear eats a lot. Thus one day as he watched Smith shovel dirt onto a smoldering campfire he arrived at the idea. Ranger Smith was a big man but hardly a match for a bear and it was a simple matter to rise up on hindpaws behind him and send him unconscious to the ground with one swat of a paw. The bear dragged him into the undergrowth and with its fangs and unusually dexterous forepaws soon stripped him to the underwear. Sure enough the fat ranger's pants fit and the bear did up the belt as he stood. A bit of work with a claw cut ear holes in the ranger's hat and that went onto his head, albeit a bit stretched as a man's head is smaller than a grizzly's massive skull. He tried on the ranger's shirt but his bear body was longer than a man's and it left a wide gap between belt and shirt that seemed wrong. He remembered that 'Smokey' on the TV didn't wear a shirt and abandoned it. Neither did Smith's shoes come anywhere near being large enough for his hindpaws, as the ranger was one of those men with a small at top and bottom, wide in the middle build. That made it so the pants fit but not much else did. Even without the claws his feet were much too big. With a disinterested grunt the bear dropped the shirt next to the shoes. Pants and hat would have to do. And shovel. Remembering 'Smokey', he grabbed Smith's shovel. The handle was humorously thin in his big paws but he could still use it. The first thing he did was finish putting out the campfire. Before he was done two campers carrying fishing poles happened by and to the bear's satisfaction they just smiled and waved. They didn't even stare. A seven foot tall bear with a ranger hat and shovel seemed perfectly reasonable to them. The bear did not know that talking and even humanoid animals, while rare, were common knowledge. The campers very reasonably assumed they were looking at someone raised among humans and now working as an actual 'Smokey the bear' as opposed to an actual bear just taking advantage of the opportunity. In any event it cemented the bear's idea of profiting from the enterprise and at the next two campsites, familiar with the rules and regulations from watching Smith do his rounds, it only took a claw pointed at the campsite tag and a growl to get the residents to hand over payment. He hadn't quite worked out which money was better than other money but he smiled an amiable tooth-hidden smile, stuffed the bills into his pants pocket with a claw and continued his rounds. At this rate, one circuit of the campground and he could fade back into the woods to spend the mysterious green paper bits somewhere far away. At the third campsite the man insisted he'd already paid via the drop box and 'Smokey' nodded, jangling the key ring that came with the belt. He'd check later, was the unspoken message. He was only four campsites into his trek when something happened he'd neither considered nor intended. Campsite four was an isolated one near the stream out of sight of the others and as he came around the corner what did he see was a young blond woman with an ample breast straining her shirt. As a bear and not a man his eyes did not at once go to that but rather to the gas can she was using to start her fire. 'Smokey' growled and the woman jumped. A curved black claw pointed at one of several signs nailed to a nearby tree. She was doing precisely what the sign forbade and while the bear couldn't read the number below the picture of a gas can was a digit longer than the number below the campsite daily fee sign. That must mean she owed more money! "Oh! Mister ranger," she said with guilt written across her face. "I just couldn't get it started and..." Familiar with the sort of whining people always tried when caught doing something they shouldn't the bear pointed sternly at the sign and growled. Ranger Smith would yell and gesticulate wildly but roaring at her seemed wrong. It was enough that she paid. Money was required when a rule was broken. That was how it worked. "But sir," she said, and he was gratified to see that she stepped closer without fear. She simply accepted that a seven foot tall grizzly bear in a ranger hat was a normal thing. "I don't have anywhere near that much money. Maybe I could pay some other way?" 'Smokey' opened his mouth to growl once more, since rules wee rules, but instead his eyes went wide and he jumped. He expected her to reach for her wallet or purse. He did not expect her to put her hand on the bulge beneath his belt buckle. A bear's sheath is sunk into the fur, not hanging out in the open like a dog's, but she found it as her hand moved upward from his balls and as a healthy young male the response to the woman's touch was immediate. 'Smokey' went stiff in more ways than one and by the time he recovered from that shock she followed it with another. There was a long -zip- as she opened the front of his pants and he watched in almost paralyzed befuddlement as she grabbed his swollen sheath and leaned forward. He was familiar with the feel of his own mouth, having curled down over himself to scratch the itch that any young male feels, but never the mouth of another. The first touch of her tongue sent his sheath sliding hastily toward his balls and he shifted his feet uncertainly as her little human hands gripped his shaft. Her fingers could not reach all the way around but along with the touch of her lips they forced a growl out of him. One of her hands unbuttoned her blouse and suddenly he was between those mounds. The bear assumed those chest bulges were just teats, full for some reason all the time instead of only when the female was nursing. It seemed they had another function. 'Smokey' planted his feet and growled, resisting the urge to grab the woman's shoulders and thrust into her mouth only because he was afraid he would hurt her. A cock the size of her forearm would have. Instead he stood there as still as he could manage, only rocking back and forth as she sucked, licked and pumped his shaft against her breasts with both hands. "You really are hung like a bear," she said before once again swallowing his tip. And a moment later, swallowing something else. A bear's mating can be brief or lengthy depending on how long it's been since the male ejaculated and for 'Smokey' it'd been a while. Only a couple of minutes after she unzipped his pants he growled deep in his chest and the woman's eyes went wide as her throat filled with spurting bear cum. She must have felt the big muscles in his thighs twitching as his orgasm approached and it was not the cum, but the amount of it that surprised her. Just the same she kept her lips tight around his shaft and with one gulp dispatched the glutenous wad of bear semen down her throat. "Even Steven?" She said in the gurgling voice of someone whose mouth was still half full of bear tip and oozing bear goo. She grinned and swallowed again as 'Smokey' wobbled away, doing up his fly with uncertain claws. What happened? He just wanted money! The urge to fall to all fours for more stable footing or sit down and lick his damp sheath was strong but the bear remembered that 'Smokey' always stood up like a human. With an effort of will he steadied his footsteps, hanging the shovel over one shoulder and concentrating on walking as a man does. A bear can stand and walk on his hindpaws but doing so for long distances look some practice. 'Smokey' shook himself. One circuit of the campground. Get the money and leave before the ranger woke. That was the plan. He knew he'd have to leave or he'd get collared, carted off in a cage or shot. There were twenty-two campsites in the bend of the stream and nineteen more at the adjoining campground the local ranger also serviced. Just to be safe he decided to only do the first set and then go. At Campsite Seventeen, with his pants pockets bulging with green paper and bearish thoughts running through his head about how and where he would spend it - many campgrounds had a little bait shop and market, but not this one - it happened again. "Oh, hello!" The plump woman who seemed to be the only occupant of the little camper smiled broadly as he approached. "You're new here, aren't you?" 'Smokey' nodded and mumbled something that might be mistaken for a 'yes'. He knew the words but hadn't worked out how to say them yet, handicapped by a bear muzzle and bear fangs. "I already paid for the day," she said, and pointed at the post with its '17' marker. He remembered now that when someone paid at the box they brought back half the slip of paper they got there. Now he just needed to learn to read the dates on the things. Taking her at her word, he nodded and turned away. "Oh, don't go so soon, dear." She was middled aged or a bit older and he smelled on her the smells of domesticity. She was here alone from her scent, but on her lingered the scent of children or grandchildren and good cooking. "Would you like a beer? Cookie?" He happily accepted both, then a second beer he poured into his slavering bear maw and gulped down in one long drink. She had another as well and when she led him into the little camper he followed without a thought. There wasn't much room in there but when she lay back on the bed and pulled up her dress it seemed the most natural thing in the world to undo his belt and step forward. Clawed forepaws sank into the bed on either side of her graying hair and 'Smokey' let out a growl as her legs wrapped around his waist. He'd been wrong. His cock did fit into a human, if one who from the smell had borne several children. Part of it did, anyway. He slid a bit more than half of himself into her and began to hump. Outside a hiker paused and stared. It wasn't his business why that little camper was rocking like that. He shook his head as the shaking went on and on. It almost sounded like...no, those couldn't be growls. Could they? Half an hour later 'Smokey' appeared at the camper door, doing up his fly with a broad, toothy grin on his muzzle. He'd underestimated humans. And, he decided, he liked them a lot more now than he had an hour ago. "Come back anytime, honey," said the woman in the bathrobe as she handed him another beer. "Any time at all. I'm here all week." With pockets full of money and balls emptied into not one but two women 'Smokey' strode confidently through the campground. He fit in. No one ran, no one screamed. They just smiled and waved, handed him money if hadn't paid, and, in two recent cases, happily accepted his cum into the orifice of their choice. He was starting to like this job. Which of course was why it couldn't last. The road arced around and as Campsite 22 disappeared behind him he realized he was back where he started. Ranger Smith was waiting for him. "All right," the fat man said, jabbing a finger into 'Smokey's chest fur. "Have your fun? Do you think you're the first one to think you could impersonate a ranger?" "Urr?" 'Smokey' backed up uncertainly, intimidated by Smith's authority even when he was in just a tightly stretched pair of underwear that dug into fat hips. Smith refused to let him fade into the undergrowth but instead followed him, finger jabbing away. "You get out of those pants, and that hat. And you give me back my damn shovel. Don't bother trying to run, I got your number. I'll have you in a crate and on a truck before sundown. You'll never see this campground again and if I have anything to say about it you'll never see one at all." 'Smokey' had his claws hooked obediently into his belt to shuck off his human clothing, but paused. He remembered the friendly people, the wasves. Putting out abandoned campfires, the nice family that handed him a hot dog in a bun then then another when the towering bear ate the first one bite, chewing only once before swallowing. He liked being a ranger, even for a day. And he'd very much liked the nice older lady even before she spread her legs. Not to mention the one who'd unhesitatingly swallowed his cock and then his cum. He didn't want to stop being a ranger. "What are you waiting for? I said get those pants off! This campground only needs one ranger and you damn sure aren't it!" As if by instinct 'Smokey's powerful forepaws, oddly flexible almost to the point of being hands, reached out and pulled Ranger Smith close. He was a big, fat man, but nowhere near as strong as a similarly large bear. "You take your paws off me!" Arrogant and unafraid, Smith kept poking 'Smokey' in the chest even as he was pulled in. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. The campground only needed one ranger. The current one was so sure of his position he didn't stop issuing orders even when the new one's broad bear muzzle opened for his face. The words only trailed off when with a lurch 'Smokey' swallowed Ranger Smith's bald head in one gulp and began to work his jaws over the fat man's shoulders. With his face wrapped in slimy bear gullet Smith finally twigged to the fact that this bear wasn't going to follow orders. Under his fat was muscle and he struggled, pushing the bear's chest with his palms instead of poking with a finger. It did not save him. Powerful forepaws hugged him tight to 'Smokey's chest and a great contraction of the bear's swallowing muscles rolled over his head and neck, sucking him deeper as his naked shoulders disappeared into the beast's gaping maw. "Smokey' had never eaten a human, much less such a fat one, but he lifted Smith and heaved his muzzle upward. Smith's considerable weight sent his fat belly sliding into the bear's toothy maw and with one massive gulp there was nothing left of Ranger Smith but a glimpse of white underwear and a set of fat, kicking legs. "Don't you dare," Smith raged, doing his best to elbow 'Smokey' from the inside. The muscle and fur pressing in from all sides squeezed him into near immobility and he accomplished nothing but to make the bear grunt. It didn't stop it from swallowing again and a great bulge moved through 'Smokey's neckfur and down into his chest as Ranger Smith was swallowed to the knees. 'Smokey' paused one last time, but the decision was already made. With a bob of his muzzle he swallowed, and fat, naked calves slid into his jaws. White cotton socks threatened to catch on his fangs but missed the canines and a double bulge of human feet moved through his neckfur as the fat ranger slid heavily into his stomach. There was a brief, desperate struggle from his swollen gut as Ranger Smith made it very clear he was unhappy with his current circumstance but 'Smokey' just squeezed his belly with his forepaws to muffle the squirming. When he let out a mighty burp a moment later the nauseating wriggling was nearly done and 'Smokey' sat himself heavily down against a tree. It was done. A man two-thirds his weight was now just a vast bulge in his belly fur and he was the one and only ranger at the campground. He couldn't do his rounds with a giant lump in his middle and 'Smokey' leaned back against the tree. Digesting an entire human was quite a chore, he would learn, especially one this bulky, and he was soon snoring, lulled to sleep by the gurgling as the stomach juices flowed in to start their work. Fortunately the encounter occurred at sundown and 'Smokey' had a whole night to let his belly work. It was just as fortunate that he hadn't squeezed into the ranger shirt as it could never contain the great bulge of swallowed man. Buttons would have gone flying before his meal was half done. By dawn Ranger Smith was largely consumed by his stomach acids, rendered down to a slurry of nutrients and a crumbly skeleton collapsed in on itself. There was nothing like a human shape to the lump any more and several visits to the campground outhouse ('Smokey' was warming to his role as an upright-walking creature, and that including using a toilet like a man) shrank the bulge considerably. It would take another day before the last bones dissolved and passed from his body, accompanied by a pair of once white underwear and a set of size 13 socks. There would be more than one occasion in the future when clothing threatened to stop up this bear's guts but a simple pair of underwear and socks made its way through without issue. With his belly shrunken enough that he could at least walk without a pronounced waddle 'Smokey' tugged his hat down his ears and stood. He was getting used to the idea of being a ranger, walking upright, doing man things, and he had his rounds to make. Just past sunrise 'Smokey' resumed his duties. It was no longer a one-day job and the rules were clearer in his mind now. He casually glanced at the campsite tags to see if they had paid for the day and just gave them a friendly wave. He helpfully poked at the blond woman's campfire with his claws, showing her how to gather kindling and start a proper fire. Months of watching the campground had taught him a lot and and he knew even more now than yesterday. Last time they met she'd swallowed his wad but today he nodded in a friendly fashion as she started the fire and waited for an invitation. One was not forthcoming and disappointed, but knowing it was wrong for a ranger to insist, 'Smokey' continued on his rounds. He was luckier at campsite seventeen, where the plump matronly lady invited his tongue between her legs and then helped him make the camper rock. With his balls healthily drained the bear decided it was time to move into the ranger cabin. It was his now, after all. He was a smart bear - smarter even than he'd been a few hours before - and he soon puzzled out where to send the money and how much he was allowed to keep, among other paperwork. He was slowly learning to talk, too, and the campers and hikers, who had accepted him from the start, continued to make him welcome. It turned out what a well behaved bear who kept the campground in good running order worked out very well as a park ranger. Virginia ("Ginny, honey") at campsite 17 kept him a happy bear in other ways and she wouldn't be the last. He was still too inexperienced to fight for a properly furry mate but everything from inquisitive college girls to randy grandmothers would help him keep any sexual stress from building up. Word circulated in certain circles about the isolated campground and its very friendly bear ranger with a foot-long tongue and something else a foot long too. Of course he wasn't the official Ranger and a week after the last of Smith passed from 'Smokey's body, leaving only a layer of fat to remind the bear of the man, the chickens came home to roost. He returned from his rounds to find a park service truck in the slot near the cabin and two rangers waiting. "Can you talk," said the taller, and 'Smokey' nodded. "A little," he growled. "Learning." He followed the two into the cabin. What else was he to do? He couldn't keep eating them. They'd either shoot him or relocate him, but at least he'd had a good week. The shorter ranger looked around the cabin. The clumsily filled out paperwork on the desk, the long bed sagging from the weight of a bear even larger than its previous fat occupant, the wildlife and hiking trail pamphlets neatly stowed in the credenza by the door where a visiting hiker could easily reach. It didn't look like a room occupied by a bear. It was neatly organized and the paperwork, with its shaky but improving writing, showed where the bear was doing his best to dot the Is and cross the Ts. In one corner was the wardrobe full of clothes, the underwear and socks and shirts no longer having an owner while the pants and hats saw more use, but by a furry ranger now. If anything the room was better kept than the last time they'd been by. A look at their new ranger confirmed what they already knew. They'd seen this before. What was a simple, if smart bear a week or so a go was noticeably more humanoid now. He could probably even wear the big ranger shirts in the wardrobe now. In fact he could easily be a man in a well made bear suit. This sort of thing was rare, but it happened. In a sense Ranger Smith lived on, though his body was reduced to grizzly fat and bear an outhouse full of bear droppings. "We talked to the campers," said the shorter. "They like you. And ranger Smith was not a popular man. No family, about to retire." 'Smokey' shrugged helplessly. There was nothing he could do about his impulsive decision to swallow the man. You can't un-digest fat back into a park ranger. "This has happened before," said the taller. "We've had bear rangers before. Several." He sat in one of the chairs sized for tourists instead of the big one Smith, and now 'Smokey' used. "The first one left when a hijacker parachuted out of a plane and landed right in his gullet. He was allowed to keep enough of the money the man stole to retire. The second was fired when he swallowed a female park ranger during sex. He's in a zoo now." He shot the bear a sharp look. Learn from that example, he seemed to say. "People like the idea of a bear ranger, campers have heard about 'Smokey' all their lives," the other one said. "We're willing to give you a chance, if you behave. You got one freebie, and that was when you ate Smith. Now you work for us." "As Smokey?" The bear growled. "That's right." The taller ranger stepped up and shook his hand-paw. "Welcome on board. Someone will be by later to deliver supplies. You'll get food and a living stipend. Not as much as Smith made but it's not as though you need to pay off a house or put kids through college." So, they were saving money. Smokey shook the offered hand, careful with his claws. He was publicity and money saved all in one furry package. No doubt the next time a forest service commercial needed a Smokey the cameras would show up. Why pay for animation when you have a real talking bear in a ranger hat? "There are a few rules," said the shorter. "Easy to learn." He pinned a note to the back of the cabin door, where it could only be seen with the door closed and where a hiker or other visitor would miss it. Smokey padded over to read it. Rule one: You may eat people, but only troublemakers. Firebugs, vandals, poachers, etc. Rule two: Keep the sex out of the public eye. Rule three: You represent the park service. Carry yourself with dignity. "Short list," Smokey growled. "Good." When he completed his next set of rounds another truck had arrived, and he did most of the moving. The principal bulky item was a wider, heavy duty bed. It was designed either for a very big human or for a bear. He wasn't the first furry ranger, after all. The mattress was new but the frame showed signs of wear and a claw scratch or two. There was even a box of hat sized for his big bear head, complete with ear holes. Each had 'Smokey' embroidered across the front. So. It was really happening. Who would have thought. "Weird," he growled. "Not the plan." "You aren't the first Smokey," said Cindy, the female park ranger who'd brought the supplies and bed. "Just don't get out of control and you can have a long career here." Smokey sniffed. His sense of smell was a hundred times as keen as a man's. She was young, fit. And,he thought, interested. He'd already learned that some women desired the exotic and he was as exotic as they were likely to get. Maybe she'd known a previous bear ranger. Or just a friendly bear. In any event... "New bed," he growled. "Got to try it out sometime." He padded into the cabin, stripping off his pants as he went, and as he'd hoped, she followed. Hestitantly at first, but soon she wasn't wearing anything either. Shortly thereafter they were trying and failing to make the cabin shake as the camper had. Unlike the Winnebago it was anchored to the ground, and it helped that she was on top. At least the first time. Eating humans, he would learn, was a rare treat. A few a year, rarely more than that. The sex on the other hand, well, it turned out being a well hung and well respected bear ranger had its rewards. Almost daily ones, even.