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Bear Creek Lodge

Russell never won anything before, but he did win a week long getaway to Bear Creek Lodge. He didn’t even know how he was entered into the giveaway. He just received a call one day while at work.

“Hello, is this Rusty Wilde?” a deep, gruff voice came from the other end from the cell phone.

“It’s Russell, but yes. This is him speaking,” Russell corrected the man.

“My apologies. I am calling to inform you that you’ve won an all expenses paid trip to Bear Creek Lodge!” the man excitedly shared.

“I did? I’ve never heard of this place and I didn’t even enter any contests,” Russell said, figuring it was a scam.

“Well, someone must’ve entered ya. The lodge is located in Montana, just outside of Billings,” the deep voice explained.

Russell did a quick Google search on his work computer. Sure enough, it was a real place.

“I’m Hunter Denver, the owner, and I hope you take this great opportunity of a vacation. The lodge is in the mountains, surrounded by a beautiful forest. The perfect place for a young man to relax,” the man persuaded.

Russell did need a vacation and a break from the business of Los Angeles.

“Okay, what the hell…I’ll go,” Russell decided on the spot.

“Wonderful!” Hunter exclaimed in his rough voice.

Russell provided Hunter with his information. A few minutes later, he had received the booking confirmation for both the flight and stay. However, the flight was only one way. Russell thought that even if he had to pay for a flight back, the trip would still be worth it. The trip was at the end of the month and Russell put in his week of leave.

As the trip approached closer, Russell found himself more excited. He would review the website of the lodge. It didn’t look like his normal type of vacation, but that made him even more excited. It was something new.

The photos on the website made the lodge look beautiful. It was essentially a massive log cabin, but it looked like it had everything. It had a tavern, a restaurant and even a cigar lounge. Russell didn’t smoke, but thought it was fancy that the lodge had a lounge.

The end of the month came and Russell found himself in the front of Bear Creek Lodge. The place was massive. There were a few men sitting in the front of the lodge, relaxing with a few beers and cigars. They each had massive beards and wore flannel.

Russell was glad he decided to wear and pack a few flannels with him; he didn’t want to stand out too much.

A large, beefy man stepped out from the large wooden doors of the lodge. “Rusty! Welcome! I’m Hunter.” Hunter was about 50 years old and had a shaved head with a bushy brown goatee. Thick chest hair protruded from his unbuttoned flannel, with the sleeves ripped off. His gut was large, but so were his furry arms. He held a giant cigar in his fingers. He approached Russell with open arms.

“It’s Russell,” he corrected Hunter as the large man hugged him. The smoke from Hunter’s cigar made Russell cough.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Hunter apologized. Russell was unsure if he was apologizing for getting his name wrong again, for the smoke or both.

“Please come in. I’ll get ya settled into your room,” Hunter motioned towards the lodge.

“See ya later, Papa Bear!” one of the relaxing men called out.

Hunter chuckled and said to Russell, “Some of the men here like to call me Papa Bear.” Russell had to agree. Hunter did seem like a jolly old bear.

The host and his guest entered the lodge. The entry was large and open. There was a large chandelier made of elk horns that hung from the tall ceiling. There were hallways to the left and right where doors to various guest rooms lined the hall.

“Rooms to the left and right. At the end of the left hallway is the restaurant. End of the right, the bar and cigar lounge,” Hunter motioned.

There were two stairways on both sides of the entry, both leading to the opening of the second floor. Between the stairways was a large double wooden door with “Bear Cave” carved in.

“Upstairs are the suites. You’ll be up here,” Hunter said as he headed toward the left stairway.

Russell followed and asked, “What’s the Bear Cave?”

“Oh, that is reserved for special events,” Hunter quickly said and changed subjects, “As you can see by, cigar smokin’ is permitted on and in the property. Hope that isn’t too much of an issue.”

“I don’t smoke,” Russell said. It was an issue, but it was too late to make a fuss.

“You’ll get use to it. Hell, you might even start liking it,” Hunter assured his guest, even though Russell doubted it.

The two opposite men made their way up the stairs. Smoke trailed from Hunter and Russell tried holding his breath.

The second floor just had a few rooms and at the end of the hallway was a shut door with a sign that said “Papa Bear’s Office”.

“Here’s our deluxe suite. Room 203. This one’s yours for at least the next few days,” Hunter said as he unlocked the door. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Russell said as he entered. The room was beautiful. It was decorated well, smelled of cedar and really did feel like home.

“Rest up a bit. Then I’d recommend having dinner at the restaurant. And if you’re up for it, go have a drink at the bar. We have our own brew here,” Hunter said from the hallway.

“Will do, thank you again,” Russell replied.

“Anytime, Rusty,” Hunter said as he closed the door before Russell could correct him.

After a long day of traveling, Russell laid on his bed. The cover was almost like a bear’s pelt. It was fuzzy, soft and warm. He felt out of place, but he decided to make the most of his free vacation. Russell then drifted to sleep.

A few hours later, it was already 8:00 in the evening. “Shit,” Russell said, “I overslept.” He quickly got up and headed to the restaurant. He was starving since he barely ate all day.

The restaurant was mostly empty, except for a few full tables of burly men. The waiter, which was another large man in a flannel but with a thick horseshoe mustache and apron on, seated him. “Name’s Sarge. I’ll take good care of ya this evening,” the man spoke in a deep tone.

There were a few men eating at one table. They kept giving Russell glances and smiles if he caught them looking. All the men here were the same: beefy, hairy and very mountain man masculine. Russell thought he had the only baby face in the whole damn place. “What the hell is this lodge?” he thought to himself.

Russell looked at the menu. It didn’t have much variety; just different cuts of steak with sides of different versions of potatoes. Before he could decide, the waiter came by with a large plate and set it right in front of him. “Here ya go, Rusty,” Sarge said, “Papa Bear wanted ya to have the special.”

The special was a huge tomahawk steak, with a large baked potato. This was way too much food. The waiter then set down a tall glass of beer. “This is our self brewed ale. We call it BPA - Bear Pale Ale.”

“Thanks,” Russell said, thinking the lodge was going a little overboard with the bear theming. He took a sip of the beer. It was rich and strong. It warmed Russell right up.

A group of men were laughing as they were wrapping up dinner. All of them pulled out massive cigars and started smoking them. The smoke quickly filled the restaurant as Russell watched them. One of them looked over and waved with his cigar in his hands. He looked to be about Russell’s age, but was completely opposite than him. He had a large beard with a short buzzed Mohawk. “Hope to see you at the bar,” the stranger said. Russell just nodded and cut into his steak as the men left the restaurant.

Despite the smoke hanging in the air, Russell enjoyed both his meal and beer. He really enjoyed it. He felt he was getting full, but couldn’t stop. The steak was a little rarer than his liking, but it tasted good so he kept going. Almost like he had no choice but to finish this large meal. Before he knew it, all that was left was the bone.

“Looks like you enjoyed that, big guy,” the waiter said as he came by to pick up the plate.

“I did,” Russell confirmed as he patted his belly. It felt bloated and his flannel was tight. He usually watched his calories, but figured a week of splurging would be alright.

Russell headed to the bar. He wanted another beer, or two. He figured he might as well meet some people.

The bar was full of these bear-like men. They were all smoking and having a good time. Russell felt a little intimidated but wanted to try to fit in.

The young man with the mohawk walked towards him. He was muscular, but Russell could tell he really liked beer and food as he was thick. He had a bear paw tattoo on his arm. “Good to see ya here,” the man said with a cigar in his mouth, “I’m Marco.”

“I’m Rusty…I mean, Russell.”

“Well it is nice to meet you, Russell,” Marco smiled.

Smoke filled the bar, but Russell was getting use to it. It became familiar. Marco and him chatted for awhile while drinking the BPA. Marco shared that he pretty much lived at the lodge, doing odd jobs around the property. “Papa Bear takes real good of us here,” he added.

Russell was getting kind of dizzy after the few beers he had. He rarely drank, and the large dinner was getting to him. His face felt warmer than usual.

“I think I’m going to call it a night, Marco,” Russell said before finishing off his fourth large beer of the night.

“Sleep well, Rusty,” Marco said as Russell stumbled out of the bar.

He approached the main entrance hall and saw Hunter unlocking the doors of the Bear Cave.

“Havin’ a good time, Rusty?” he said as Russell started up the stairs. It was much more difficult than before; he felt heavier.

“Yeah, a little too much. I’m headin’ to bed,” Russell mumbled.

“Well the main event is about to start. Come join us when you are ready,” Hunter said, which confused Russell.

“What event?” he thought to himself.

Russell entered his suite. He could smell the cigar smoke on himself, but he kind of liked it. “Maybe I’ll try one before I leave,” he said to himself.

He entered his bathroom and looked in the mirror. What he saw sobered him up. He looked like he gained a lot of weight. His face was puffier and fuller. A short beard grew and his gut was tight against the buttons of his flannel. “What the hell? What is going on?” he worried to himself.

He rushed out of his room. “Hunter!” he called out. “What is wrong with me?” He looked around and saw Hunter’s Office door was open. He ran to it, almost out of breath with his new weight. Hunter wasn’t there, but there was a file on his desk. It had “Bear Pack” written on it. He opened it up.

There were photos paper clipped together. Russell grabbed separated one. One photo had a picture of a fit, clean cut man with “Samuel” written under it and the other had a photo of his waiter from earlier that evening with “Sarge” written under it.

Russell grabbed another. His arms were getting warm and tight, so he rolled up his sleeves to see that they were thick with muscle and fat. He separated the photos clipped and saw a photo of a skinny man with messy hair. “Marcus” was written below it. The other photo was of Marco.

“Are these the same people? What the hell?” Russell spoke aloud, but he didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deeper. He then saw another pair of photos. This pair was of his own. The photo of him with “Russell” written under it. The other photo was blank, but had “Rusty” written.

Russell rushed out of the office. His weight was making it hard to be fast.

Russell went back into his room and grabbed his things. He looked in the mirror again. His beard was longer and his arms looked almost beastly.

He hurried out of the room, down the hall and then stairs.

The lodge was dark, but the only light came from the two open doors to the Bear Cave. The smell of cigar smoke hit Russell’s nostrils. It smelled familiar. It smelled welcoming.

Russell dropped his things and headed towards the doors of the Bear Cave.

Inside was a massive room with leather couches, bear rugs, tables and ashtrays. All the bearish men we drinking and smoking their cigars. Some of the men were making out on the couches, smoke pouring out as they kissed. He was intimidated. He saw Marco watching him as he was talking to Sarge.

There was a mirror at the end of the Bear Cave and he approached it. His beard was longer and his body was hairier. It made him look older.

He was mesmerized with how he looked. He wasn’t scared. He looked like he belonged with the men around him.

It was the sound of heavy steps behind him that ended his awe. He turned around and saw Hunter taking a deep drag of his cigar. Hunter then grabbed Russell’s head and pulled him in. Hunter kissed and blew his smoke deep into Russell’s lungs.

Russell’s lungs didn’t ache from it. He didn’t cough. He liked it and wanted more. All the worries he had were gone. He was safe with his Papa Bear and his pack.

Russell stepped back and blew out the smoke he got from Papa Bear. As he did, the rest of the bear pack clapped.

“Welcome to the pack, my Rusty cub,” Papa Bear said, causing Rusty to smile.

Papa Bear motioned Rusty to take a seat. They both sat and he handed Rusty a cigar. Rusty confidently placed it in his mouth. With the guidance of his Papa Bear’s flame, he leaned in and brought the cigar to life.

Rusty breathed in the smoke from the first of many cigars.

“Thank you, Papa Bear,” Rusty said.

“I always take care of my pack,” Papa Bear said.

Rusty never moved back to Los Angeles. He lived at the Bear Creek Lodge, working in the cigar lounge. He was able to smoke as many cigars as he wanted with that job. He was rarely seen without a cigar in his jaw. Rusty quickly became one of Papa Bear’s favorites. He was a good cub to him and for the lodge. He made a fine addition to Papa Bear’s growing pack.

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