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Jamison
I’ve lived on the very outskirts of this town called Remote, Oregon for all my adult life alone. For three reasons only- It’s beautiful, private and quiet. Those three things alone make it worth my while, but also my animal can go ape wild if he wants too and we don’t need to worry about humans interfering. My beast doesn’t like being alone, but I can’t help that.
There are a few shifters in this area, but we pretty much keep to ourselves. Shifters are all over the world, not just where their animal is originally native from.
I live in a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom rustic cabin home. I have wood to burn for heat, and a small heater in my bedroom for those freezing cold nights when my balls are about to fall off. I also have electricity and running water, so I’m not too far off the grid, but I do like my peace and quiet. And my small home is right on the edge of the forest and mountains.
Currently, I’m in my animal form munching on the berries I love so much, and my huge sausage looking fingers squish a few, so I lick the berry juice off them. I drop a few as I’m startled suddenly by a loud squawk and a few screeches coming from somewhere in the upper boughs of the massive pine trees. I’m sitting here in the depths of the forest, forced to listen to the constant squawking of the damn birds flying overhead.
Taking a pass over us they fly higher, in the upper branches. I see flashes of red. I either drop or squish a few more tender berries in my hands and my beast is getting agitated. I’ve been hearing the birds for a while now and they need to stop. I can feel the low grumble vibrating in my beast’s chest. My nerves are wearing thin. Both in animal and human.
Suddenly, three birds fly right over my head, and it looks like one is being chased by the other two. Damn fucking things. Don’t know why they can’t fuck off somewhere else. When you see an animal out of its normal home environment, you know it’s a shifter. And I know these macaws are shifters. I’ve never seen them here before.
When I look up again, I witness the first bird slam into a thick tree branch. He’s lost his bearings trying to escape from the other two chasing him. I watch as his lifeless body plummets to the ground and lands in the soft leaf litter and dead pine needles only a few feet away from me. That will leave a sore spot for sure, smacking into the tree like that. I trudge over to make sure the little guy is okay and still alive.
The other two birds fly away as I come upon the downed bird. I believe he’s a macaw of some kind. I don’t know anything about birds or bird shifters. He’s lying on his back, wings spread out behind him. Legs and feet out straight. Doesn’t look like there’s anything broken, or disfigured, but I know he’ll have one hell of a headache and a badly bruised shoulder when he wakes up.
I lean down and notice his chest moving with his breathing, so at least that’s a good thing. I tell my beast with our mind communication how to carefully handle the feathered thing, bringing my furry, meaty arm down parallel with his body. I fold in his wings into the sides of his little body and slowly roll him onto my arm.
Tucking him in between my chest and arm, I meander back to my home to get this little guy back to health. If I were to leave him out here, who knows what could hurt him even further, or what might eat him for a snack.
As I make my way back to my little home, I glance down to the bird. He is a pretty sight. When the sun hit his red, yellow, blue and green colored feathers, they flashed and shined in flight. It was magnificent to see. The light caught them just perfect and made him shine. He truly is a beautiful bird.
As I trod up the front steps to my meager home, I shift back into my human form. Opening the front door and shutting it behind me quietly, I bring him over to my couch and gently lay him down on it. I make sure his head is propped on a small pillow, then grab the light throw blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over his small body.
I don’t know anything about the macaw shifters, if they are able to shift back and forth clothed or not, so I can give him some dignity when he wakes, just in case. I, on the other hand, am stark naked at the moment. I choose to strip naked then shift because I’m nowhere near anyone else, so who’s going to see me?
I grab a pair of sweats and tee shirt from the dresser in my room, I dress quickly, not wanting to scare my guest with my nakedness. As I’m tugging my legs through the legs of the sweatpants, I notice it’s almost dinner time. I nowhere got what my human or animal needed in those berries and ground foliage, but I need substance, and now. Thinking, I need meat at the same time I hear my stomach growl.
Thirty minutes later, I’m cooking on my grill on the far side of my porch outside, flipping over the steaks, I hear a small cry out of pain from inside the house. The windows are still opened slightly, even though its late summer on a cooling evening.
I shut the cover of the grill over the meat, turn down the flame and walk inside quickly with my beer bottle still in my hand. Can’t leave a good beer outside. You never know who or what could come get it. Not making that mistake again. Damn squirrel shifters.
As I make my way back inside, I glance over to the couch where the macaw was sleeping. But now there’s a thin bodied, red-haired man, trying to sit up. He’s clutching his right shoulder and ribs. I also notice he’s wearing a light green tee shirt when he tries to sit up. I set my beer down on the small side table and he looks up to me.
When our eyes meet, his facial expression is funny. A scared, shy little bird until the recognition of how big I am registers and his eyes go as big as dinner plates! I know I’m a big guy, but I’m not intimidating in the least. Well, at least I don’t think I am. I’m the quiet, gentle giant. I always have been. Protector of those I care for or tried to anyway.
“Hey, um, I saw you smack into a tree and you went unconscious.” I say awkwardly. “I brought you back here to rest. Are you hungry? I’m cooking steaks on the grill and baked potatoes.”
“Um, yeah, I’m hungry. Thank you.” He whispers. Like I said, scared, shy little bird.
“Lay there and rest, dinner is almost done.” I go to turn away and ask, “Do you need anything for pain, or are you healing fine?” I say quietly, and my voice goes even lower than its normal deep tones.
“No pain meds needed, thank you. My animal is healing me fast enough. I was just startled when I woke up. I didn’t know where I was.” He says shyly, while looking to his fidgeting fingers on his lap. The blanket covering him for the most part.
“I’ll be right back with our food. Bathroom is down the hall if you need it.” I point in the direction. I grab my beer, set the microwave to cook the potatoes then head back outside to man the grill and check on the steaks.
A few minutes later I’m walking back inside with the plate of steaks. Shutting the door behind me and tossing the empty beer bottle in the recycling container next to the door, I set the plate of steaks on the kitchen table. Then I grab the spuds from the microwave. I heard it ding and shut off as I walked in. Perfect timing.
I grab plates from the cupboard, and whatever else we need to eat and drink and then motion him to come to the table. I felt his eyes watching me this whole time. I watch as he stands up in his human form, wearing jeans and tennis shoes as well as the tee shirt. That answers my question if he shifts with clothes or not. I watch as he makes his way slowly over to the table with me.
I notice he’s quite small. Small as in short. As in petite. As in thin. This red-headed, skinny little white boy has very little muscular physique to him. So frail, so small. He sits across from me and scoots his chair in.
“What would you like to drink? I have beer, water and milk.” I ask him as I walk over to the fridge, peeking in there to make sure I still have milk, just in case.
“Milk, please. Thank you.” I nod and grab the container and pour us each a glass, then sit at the table with him. A beer for me earlier was enough, and I’m done. I don’t want to drink any more beer here with this frail man.
I grab a steak and potato and plop them on a plate for him and hand it over. He grabs a fork and knife from the table and digs into his steak. I cut up my potato then grab the tub of butter and slather some butter over it, watching as it melts and drips down the side of the skin.
As we eat in silence, all but the noises of people eating a meal together, I think about where this man came from. He’s so thin, almost the size of a young teen compared to me. But then, it’s hard to compare anyone to my size, except for the bear shifters around these parts. They’re huge too.
“I’m not used to having people in my home, so forgive my lack of manners. My name is Jamison Silver. And I live here alone. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”
He swallows his small bite of steak, sets his fork against the side of the plate and says, “Sorry. Forgive me as well, as I’m well-mannered except for now. I must have bumped my head harder than I thought. My name is Samuel. Samuel Xavier. And thank you for taking me into your home.” He gives me a smile and continues his meal.
I grunt and nod in response and continue with my own food. The rest of our dinner is eaten in silence. No words spoken, only quick glances to each other and a slight blush to his cheeks occasionally.
I wonder what makes him blush? Why is he blushing? What could he be thinking to make him blush like that? Now my brain is thinking of all different kinds of things from the innocent to the not so innocent.
I wonder if he bats for the same team? I think.
Why would I think that when I have absolutely no clue about relationships? I haven’t ever had a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter. I don’t know what it’s like to have a partner, or to be in love. I loved my parents, and family group, but nothing like a love for a life partner.
Shaking my body slightly from those train of thoughts, and I get back to finishing my dinner. I hear his whoosh out a breath and I look up to see what’s the matter. He’s leaning back in his chair, patting his stomach. His food barely eaten.
“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry? Did you not like it?” I ask worriedly.
“Oh no. It was very good but I’m extremely full. Thank you, it was a great steak. I just don’t eat much.” He smiles shyly at me, winks then looks down to his almost full plate.
I’m shocked at him being so forward with winking at me. And I think he noticed my shock, “I’m sorry. I get a little goofy sometimes when I eat meat. Macaw shifters don’t eat meat. At least, my family doesn’t.” He turns his head to the front window and breathes deeply, then releases it. His expression, from what I can see, looks sad.
He clears his throat, and pushes back his chair, “Would you mind if I were to go lay down on your couch until this feeling passes? I’m sorry.”
I get up and say, “No, that’s fine. I can take you to the extra bedroom. The bed is made up and you can rest for the night. Or you can take a shower first. I can bring you back home tomorrow, if you want too.” I say as I lead him down the hallway to the room.
I turn back to make sure he’s following me. His looking to the ceiling, eyes closed, and his hands out next to him, fingers trailing lightly against the walls on either side of him. Almost as if he’s trying to balance himself walking down the hallway. He opens his eyes and breathes deeply, as to catch his breath. I stop at the entrance to the room; open the door and I see him smirk. He looks up at me and he almost looks drunk. His face is flushed, his eyes glazed over and he’s walking wobbly now.
“I’ll stay the night if it isn’t too much of a bother to you. I just need to sleep it off. I believe it’s supposed to rain tomorrow so I’ll just take to the trees in the morning and bathe in the rain.” He slurs his speech slightly now and smiles brightly up at me.
What the hell?
I don’t know why that last part of his sentence sounded so erotic. I can even feel my cock harden slightly in my sweats. I walk into the room, and he follows me. But as he enters, He’s having an issue and I watch him carefully.
I point down to the bathroom once again, and say, “The bathroom, if you need it,” but he either doesn’t need it or ignores me. He walks over to the bed, and plops down on it face first. Still dressed, and on top of the blankets. I hear his slight snoring and I know he’s already asleep. I’ll need to take care of him and tuck him in then.
I pull off his shoes and drop them to the floor quietly, then I gather the blanket in my hands from under him, and slowly pull them back as far as I can get them. Then I pick him up slowly and carefully, mindful of his injuries from earlier and tuck him in under the blankets and cover him up.
He shifts around in the bed enough to get comfortable and folds his hands under his cheek, his mouth slightly open and his eyes stay closed. I silently walk out of the room, shut the door behind me then go to clean up the kitchen from our dinner.
When the kitchen is cleaned up, I start shutting off lights in the house making my way down the hall to my own room. Passing where Samuel is asleep, I lean my ear against the door and hear him breathing deep with sleep. Knowing he’s okay for the night, I walk into my room and stripping down for bed, I toss my clothing into the basket in the corner and climb under the blanket. Squirming around a bit to find my comfortable spot.
I think back to dinner and what happened. What the hell had happened? Can bird shifters not eat meat in their human forms? Is he going to be okay? He was acting like he was drunk. He did say he just needed to sleep it off. I guess we’ll see in the morning light on what happens to Samuel.
