Savage Beasts - 2. Papa Bear’s Diner

The five am alarm went off on the bedside table. Mike reached over automatically with a big hairy arm and banged his hand against the top of the clock until he finally hit the right button to make the noise go away. He rolled over and snuggled up against Gunnar’s broad back and pressed his morning erection into the cleft of his Papa’s ass.

“Mornin’ Cub,” Gunnar said with a yawn. “You plannin’ on doing somethin’ with that pole of yours, or is that just your way of saying ‘Good morning, Papa?’”

“Good morning, Papa,” Mike replied, as he lifted Gunnar’s leg and guided his throbbing erection to his Papa’s hole. There would only be time for one round of playful morning sex before they had to get up and get into town. Mike made it quick but satisfying as he humped Gunnar’s ass and reached around to stroke his cock in time with his own thrusts. Gunnar came first, holding back his growl so as not to wake the neighbors at this hour. Gunnar’s contracting muscles squeezed his cub’s cock, and Mike followed suit with his own orgasm into the depths of his Papa’s ass.

“All right, horny Cub,” Gunnar said, throwing the covers off them both, “Now that we’ve gotten the day off to the right start, let’s shake a leg. The diner isn’t going to open itself you know.”

They jumped into the shower together, and took turns soaping each other up and rinsing each other down. Turning off the water, Mike grabbed a fluffy bath towel and dried Gunnar off from head to toe. Gunnar dried off his Cub in return, and they both quickly brushed their teeth, combed their hair and beards and got dressed in their matching black polo shirts and jeans.

Gunnar’s kept his hair short, so he trotted downstairs to fill their travel mugs with coffee from the pot that came on automatically at 5:30. Mike’s blond hair was long, and he spent a little more time in front of the mirror, fussing about how he was going to wear it to work that day. He ended up pulling the hair on the top of his head into a ponytail that he tied high at the back of his skull and let the hair on the sides and back of his head and neck fall free. He added a palmful of oil to his beard and worked it in to complete his grooming for the day and went downstairs where Gunnar was waiting by the door with his mug of coffee and ready to go.

“I swear, Cub,” Gunnar commented as they walked out the front door and to the Jeep, “You spend more time each morning fixing that hair of yours than I do in a month!”

“Yes, Papa,” Mike replied, “But it’s all for the good of the business. You may be the culinary inspiration that brings the customers in, but I’m the eye candy that keeps them coming back for more!”

Gunnar rolled his eyes and smacked his cub on the ass to hurry him along into the Jeep for the short drive to the Marina. They had only been living in Sturgeon Bay for a few months when the answer of how to blend in with the local community practically fell into their laps. The building in front of the Harbor Club Marina was a large multi-use facility housing an Italian restaurant and a micro-brew pub. Both of those businesses were well-established cornerstones of the community dining and entertainment industries. The space on the ground floor at the back of the building facing the water and the Marina docks was currently a coffee and donut shop that never seemed to get the volume of business that it should, considering the prime location and waterfront views. The owner decided to call it quits after several years of lackluster business, and the bears’ elderly human friend Joshua had informed them of the space for sale and supplied the inspiration.

“Well, I know how much you love your breakfasts, Gunnar,” Joshua had said, showing them a real estate flyer with the listing. “I just thought that you could share that passion with the rest of the town. We don’t have a really good place for breakfasts in the Marina and dock district, and there’s a lot of hungry boaters who are looking for something more substantial than a donut before hitting the water.”

Gunnar and Mike took a tour of the property, and while it would need some major remodeling to convert it into a diner, the prospect was exciting to them both.

Gunnar called his accountant to let him know the plan and wanted to confirm that he had enough funds to not only purchase the property in cash but front enough money for the remodeling and furnishing it with all the necessities and odds and ends that a restaurant required.

His accountant laughed for almost a minute on the phone while Gunnar began to grow frustrated.

“Okay, if I don’t have the money, just say so,” He grumbled in an angry tone.

“Oh, Gunnar,” the accountant replied quickly, “That’s not why I’m laughing. You have enough money to buy that entire Marina complex, and all the rest of the marinas, and docks, and boats in Sturgeon Bay if you wanted, and still have enough left over for ten lifetimes. If you want to open a restaurant, go for it. Send me all the bills, and I’ll make sure that everything is paid.”

Gunnar made an offer on the place that afternoon, and within a week, the bears were the proud owners of the newest business in Sturgeon Bay.

Mike made a few discreet calls to some of the bears that he had met who lived in Atikokan, Canada, and before long, their construction contractors were knocking at their door, ready to start. Hiring a team of werebears to do the demolition and construction on the remodel was a stroke of genius, and the Atikokan bears had the job done in half the time that a human crew could have accomplished the same work. Gunnar and Mike showed their appreciation to the Atikokan crew in the werebear way, by hosting get-togethers at their home each evening when the work was done, where the bears could relax and enjoy each other’s company with dinner and drinks and some friendly group sex. Rather than getting a hotel, the crew ended up sleeping in a big pile on the back patio each night, comfortably transformed into their bear forms and worn out from each night’s festivities. Most nights Gunnar and Mike were in the bear pile right along with them.

After purchasing kitchen equipment, furniture, plates, mugs, glasses, silverware, and a couple hundred other things that go into equipping a diner, the place was almost ready to open. All that was left to find was someone who could be Gunnar’s assistant in the kitchen and take over for him on days off, and experienced wait staff to manage the front-of-house alongside Mike. They took a daytrip to a familiar truck stop just south of Fond du Lac and after making extremely generous offers of salaries and relocation costs, they had the best line cook and waitress in Wisconsin on their payroll.

A couple weeks later, they were ready for their Grand Opening. The community rallied around the new business, and the bears’ diner became the local hot spot for breakfast and lunch, usually having a line of customers waiting out on the docks each morning for an open table. The other businesses in the marina building didn’t have to worry about competition for the evening customers, since the bears’ diner closed at 2:00 pm each day, just serving the breakfast and lunch crowds. That gave Gunnar and Mike plenty of quality time at home each evening before rising at 5:00 am to do it all over again.

Today, Gunnar pulled the Jeep into his assigned parking space in the Marina lot, and he and Mike walked around to the waterfront side of the building to open up for the day. As Gunnar unlocked the door and went inside to get the kitchen going, Mike stood out front for a minute longer, looking at the sign hanging over the door.

“Papa Bear’s Diner” it said, in bold blue lettering, with an artist’s rendition of a coastal-themed brown bear dressed as a sailor in a blue shirt, striped pants with a thick belt, a captain’s hat on his head, an old-fashioned pipe in his mouth, and even an anchor tattoo on his furry forearm.

“Come on blondie,” Vera the waitress said, elbowing Mike in the side as she walked past him to the door of the diner, “The place isn’t going to run itself while you stand out here daydreaming!”

Mike and Vera got busy setting up the front of the house while Gunnar busied himself prepping the kitchen for the breakfast rush. Johnny the line-cook arrived shortly after the rest, and in no time, they had the place ready to go for another day.

When they designed the place, Gunnar didn’t want to be stuck back in a kitchen all day, separated from the community and the customers, so they remodeled it with the working part of the kitchen right in the middle of the dining room, surrounded on three sides by a counter and stools. A set of swinging doors were set in the back wall where Gunnar and Johnny could go to fetch more supplies out of the refrigerator and walk-in freezer, but most of their time was spent cooking the meals right in front of their customers, greeting and chatting with them during both the breakfast and lunch rushes.

“Seven am, Cub,” Gunnar called over to Mike, who was helping Vera wrap up silverware into ready-made seating bundles. “Open the doors and let the hungry horde in.”

They all put on clean white aprons bearing the image of the sailor bear from their logo. Mike flipped the switch on the wall, illuminating the outdoor signage, and unlocked the door, opening it up for the early-bird customers. There was a line already formed, and Mike quickly showed each group to a table as the morning regulars walked in and found their favorite stools around the counter, greeting Mike and Gunnar warmly as they sat.

Vera bustled around the dining room taking orders as Mike walked around with a tray of mugs and a pot of coffee serving the seated patrons before going behind the counter to help the regulars.

“Morning, Joshua,” Mike said, setting a mug in front of his friend and filling it up with coffee. “How’re they hanging today?”

“I’m an old man, Cub,” Joshua replied, “If they were hanging any lower, I’d have to tuck ‘em in my socks!”

The collection of regulars seated around the counter, all men over the age of 65, erupted in raucous laughter at Joshua’s comment and banged on the counter.

“What’s the special this morning, Mike?” one of them asked.

“We’ve got a Belgian waffle,” Mike replied, “With a fruit topping made from fresh strawberries and blackberries, served with whipped cream and your choice of sausage or bacon.”

“How many did Gunnar eat before the doors opened?” another man asked.

“Hey,” Gunnar interjected, already spooning batter into the waffle irons, “I have to perform quality control checks on everything that leaves this kitchen. Eight waffles are the perfect number for testing to make sure that I got the batter exactly right!”

The men howled with laughter again as Vera began sending the first tables’ tickets to the kitchen, and then Gunnar and Johnny sprang into action, cracking eggs and frying up bacon and hash browns to satisfy the hungry crowd.

****

As the lunch rush began to wind down, and Johnny and Vera set about doing their side work to finish their shifts and get the place ready for the next day’s business, Gunnar cooked up the last few orders for the day, and Mike attended to a gaggle of teenage girls who always gathered on Saturday afternoons at the counter to split a large order of fries and maybe a burger or two. Mostly they came to stare at Mike’s bulging muscles and bulging other parts, and whisper and giggle when they thought he couldn’t hear them.

“Mike,” one of the girls piped up, goaded by her friends to ask the big handsome man a question. “You sure look an awful lot like that Thor guy from the movies, but with bigger muscles. Are you sure you’re gay?”

“Katie, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Mike replied with a grin, leaning against the counter to talk to the girls. “You know that Gunnar there behind the grill is my husband, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Katie replied. “But here’s what we don’t understand. You’re both really big, muscley, hairy guys. So… when you’re together… you know, together… which one is the man, and which one is the woman?”

Gunnar snorted behind his grill, stifling a laugh, and was glad that Mike was the one who got the pleasure of answering that question to a bunch of inquisitive teenage girls.

“Oh, Katie,” Mike replied with a straight face, “I think you’ve got your information all wrong. See, we’re both the man. That’s what makes us a gay couple, get it?”

“Oh, yeah. I, um… Huh?” Katie said, with a confused expression on her face.

Mike turned and walked past his Papa, snapping him with his towel as tears rolled down Gunnar’s face from holding in his laughter.

“All right you two,” Vera yelled at the bears, “Leave the clueless girls be. I’m done for the day, so I’m out of here. What’s the Sunday brunch special going to be tomorrow?”

“Smoked salmon eggs benedict,” Gunnar replied.

“Oh Lord,” Vera replied. “Gunnar, don’t eat all the salmon yourself after closing again this time, okay?”

“One time,” Gunnar yelled back, “And I’ll never hear the end of it. Go on, get out of here!”

He waved his hand at Vera, and she laughed as she scooted out the front door.

“She’s right, you know,” Mike said. “Once you start doing ‘quality control’ on the salmon, it’s hard to get you to stop.”

“Don’t you start too,” Gunnar replied with a laugh. “I seem to recall that the sign over the door says, ‘Papa Bear’s Diner’ and since I’m Papa Bear, I’ll eat what I want.”

****

Gunnar did leave the diner’s supply of salmon alone this time, and after closing and going home, he and Mike decided to do a little fishing for their dinner.

There was a good spot in the water along the side of the dock where the view from their neighbors’ houses was obscured by the thick trees on either side of their property, and the pair felt comfortable shifting into their bear forms and wading out into the water unseen. A half hour later, there was an adequate pile of walleye and smallmouth bass flopping on the bank to call it dinner. They shifted back into human form so that they could take advantage of thumbs again as they skillfully gutted and filleted their catch.

“You know,” Mike said as they cleaned the fish, “We should do this more often and have weekly fish lunch specials at the diner. I think the locals and the summer tourists would both really go for it.”

“Do you realize the number of fish we’d have to catch and clean to feed the whole town lunch every week?” Gunnar asked, looking at Mike sideways, “Seems like a lot of extra work on our days off to me.”

“Aw, come on, Papa,” Mike said. “We could have Johnny and Joshua over for a fish-cleaning party and cook them dinner. With four of us at it, we can have the fish cleaned in no time.”

“You’re being awfully generous with Joshua and Johnny’s time, but I’ll think about it, Cub.” Gunnar said. “Right now, I just want enough for a nice big dinner for the two of us.”

When dinnertime came around, they each had enough fried fish to feed a bear, and they paired it with roasted root vegetables and a nice broccoli, cabbage, and carrot slaw. Gunnar selected a bottle of white wine from the cellar to go with dinner, and then after the cleanup was done, they built a fire out on the patio and settled into their Adirondack chairs with a few cold beers.

“Have you given Thomas and Sam a call lately?” Gunnar asked Mike as he gazed at the flickering flames.

“Yeah, I actually called them yesterday,” Mike replied. “Thomas is working on the upgrades to his cabin so he can go off-grid and be sustainable for the winter like our cabin up in the National Forest. He’s added his first few solar panels and has half of the batteries installed that he eventually wants. He’s ordered the parts for his first wind turbine, and as soon as they come in, he’s going to get Sam to help him raise and set the tower.”

“What has Sam been doing… besides Thomas?” Gunnar asked with a chuckle.

“Well, Sam took those courses over the winter to become a certified mechanic,” Mike said, “And I think he’s trying to find an available property where he can open his own garage. We’re coming up on the one-year anniversary since he and Thomas met, and I think Thomas is going to surprise him with a classic car that needs to be restored that he can work on as a hobby project.”

“Good for them,” Gunnar said. “I’m really glad that Sam came along. It was the right time for Thomas to find a Cub of his own, especially coming right on the heels of your own first change.”

“Sam never mentioned to me in all the years that I knew him that his great-grandfather on his dad’s side was Native American,” Mike said. “It was sort of serendipity that Thomas and Sam ended up being an almost identical black bear couple!”

“Fate works in strange ways, Cub. It’s all part of a complex puzzle, and when the pieces begin fitting together, you know that they were made for each other. The fact that you and Sam were friends for so many years, and were both kindred, was just another piece to the grand puzzle.”

“Papa, there’s something that’s been worrying me,” Mike said carefully.

“What’s that, Cub?”

“Well, everything is great now. We have each other, and we have our business. Thomas and Sam have each other, and they’re thinking of starting a business as well…”

“Yes,” Gunnar commented, “I don’t see what there is to be worried about.”

“Well,” Mike replied, “How are we going to keep things from getting boring? If we spend the next few decades running a diner, won’t we eventually get sick of it? It feels like we’re going to need something to shake us up every now and then to keep things interesting.”

“Cub, be careful what you wish for,” Gunnar replied. “There’s an old saying, ‘May you live in interesting times.’ It’s supposed to sound like a blessing, but it’s really a curse. ‘Interesting times’ are usually the times of great trouble and strife. Let’s take the slow boring days as they come and enjoy them while we can. The ‘interesting times’ will come back around before you expect them!”