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Gerald was not a rebel. It wasn't like he was stifling the government revenue because he didn't support the present legislation or didn't trust the system. Despite patriotic activism and political concern swelling up in most of the people around the young bull, he maintained a certain level of apathy. He just felt that he couldn't really change anything. People protested and marched, yet all he heard about was more problems. Rather than drown in the redundant hopelessness of it all, he was content to wait out the ranting and raving for when everyone thought everything was better. Either way, it made little difference to him.

That didn't change the fact that he forgot to pay his taxes though.

"Couldn't you just forward the cost to next year's taxes like last year?" Gerald asked the stuffy looking auditor in a suit at his doorstep. Gerald was headed to the gym, and it was one of the few things the bull didn't feel comfortable putting off. If he didn't do it today he'd have to do it tomorrow, and who's to say he wouldn't put it off for the day after that then?

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Sinclair," the porcupine answered with a tone that actually sounded unusually sincere for a government lackey. Gerald actually almost felt sorry that this man had to be the one to deliver the news. He seemed... human.

"Acording to our records, you've postponed payment for the past three years, and in none of those past three years have your finances warranted you a return. You owe the government a concerning amount of money."

"How much?" Gerald asked, his healthy heart beating twice as fast than it usually ever did off of a treadmill at the mention of money.

"I'd be hard-pressed to give an approximation," the porcupine said with his apology not spoken but clear in the tone of his voice, "but it would be fair to say that you at least owe somewhere upwards of..."

Gerald tightly griped the doorframe as his legs went limp from hearing the amount. That much? How on earth could Gerald pay that? He still had student loans to consider, not to mention his bills and his sister's wedding coming up. The porcupine must have seen the concern on his face as he hurriedly stammered on, trying to rectify the situation.

"But the government is also aware that you're still working through school and that you have a full-time job."

"I answer phone calls for minimum wage," Gerald gasped, his heart still pounding. "I can't afford this!"

"Exactly!" the auditor quickly returned with a smile that didn't reach his concerned eyes. "I just need to see your records, and I might be able to fix this whole thing."

Gerald looked the porcupine over. He was told more and more lately not to trust anyone from the government, but thinking of that big, big number, Gerald couldn't think of anything else to do. He pulled his legs firmly back under him, and waved the stuffy porcupine inside with a trembling hand.

"Make yourself comfortable in the living room," he managed to utter weakly, trying to sound like he could at least afford to be a good host. "I'll scrounge up what I can from my file cabinet."

"The more the better!" the porcupine called to the pale bull as he fled to his office.

It took the porcupine a total of two hours to sort through the voluminous pile of papers. Gerald felt so awkward handing the stuffy auditor the deshelved piles, unorganized and uncared for. There was no real system as to how they'd been assembled, and in moving them from Gerald's cluttered office to the living room, the papers had become even more scrambled than before to the point that even Gerald didn't have the slightest inkling as to which pile was what.

Phil was very understanding though. That's what Gerald found out the porcupine's name was, Phil. They'd talked a lot over the period of two hours. It started with the sympathetic auditor trying to reassure the bull and telling him that he'd get everything sorted. After Gerald was finally calmed down enough he then started asking questions about Phil, still trying to be a good host. Then Phil started asking questions about Gerald. Before Phil was half way through the stack of paperwork they were laughing over stories about college and enjoying snacks from Gerald's kitchen. Gerald himself forgot to go to the gym for the first time in a long time, and he nearly forgot that he was being audited to until Phil finally punched the in final numbers. The porcupine's expression turned grave.

"What's wrong?" Gerald asked, his stomach sinking.

"It's a lot," Phil sighed, looking nearly as disheartened as Gerald felt. "More than you probably have."

Gerald sighed too. He leaned back in the recliner he sat in and ran his masculine hand through his short hair. He hadn't planned for something like this. He was living paycheck to paycheck as it was. His lease was almost up, and his parents were out of the picture. Gerald wracked his brain for friends he could plead with for a loan or things he could sell. Then a look of thought from Phil stole his attention.

"Yeah?" Gerald prodded the porcupine as if he had stopped in the middle of a proposal.

"Well, I was just thinking," he spoke slowly, still clearly working pit his thoughts, "that there is a new program in effect. It's usually intended for citizens with unique circumstances, but I think with the right interpretation you could be considered eligible."

"What is it?" Gerald asked anxiously, hisa heart cautiously rising out if despair again.

"It's a sort of donor program," Phil said hesitantly, struggling to use the right words. "A clinic will assess what you can provide, estimate how much you need to give to clear you debt, and you'll be absolved after you give the full amount of whatever it is you give."

Gerald's heart soared as he listened with rapt attention. This sounded like a perfect solution. From the way Phil described the process, it sounded to Gerald like he would simply have to give whatever he had in bodily abundance, like blood or sperm or something, every once and a while and he would be in the clear. Gerald didn't really listen when Phil cautioned him not to choose the option lightly, brushing the porcupine's trepidation off as the concerns of an overly cautious auditor.

He found himself at one of the government clinics the next day and signed himself in. He was escorted off by two men nearly as big as himself after signing a stack of papers that seemed to be as large as the one Phil had sorted through the previous day. He was shoved into a room before he had a chance to ask how everything exactly worked, and the door's lock clicked behind him. The room had rows of chairs in front of an old television set on a cart like Gerald had seen in high school. Several guys, a hippo, an aligator, and a kangaroo, were all in one seat or another, and Gerald noticed that they all seemed to be in a similar weight class, all beefy and well muscled. None of them turned to look at Gerald. They all kept their gazes fixed on the screen, so Gerald took a seat near the back as quietly as he could.

Some sort of orientation video was playing. A similarly well toned gorilla was on the screen talking about how the government needed revenue to work and how our taxes could be used in the community. Gerald sighed. It really was high school all over again. They even recorded the orientation on VHS for some reason. The bull couldn't see the cassette player, but he easily recognized the tell-tale signs: the occasional fuzziness, the rippling lines of color that would slowly float right to left across the screen, and at some parts there would even be the little black dot at the top left of the film to indicate a cut. Gerald rolled his eyes, not knowing why a new program would use such old technology, but he played along and watched the video.

Just like in high school though, Gerald found that more he tried to focus on the film the more his mind would start to wonder or go blank. When the bull had started watching the movie the ticking clock on the far wall moved as slowly as it did in his old math class, and his frequent glances only made the time go slower. Yet as the movie progressed he would periodically check the clock to find that he hadn't been paying attention for a whole fifteen minutes. He'd inwardly chide himself for the lack of focus, resettling himself and gazing back at the screen, but then he'd check the clock to see he'd missed even greater intervals. Fifteen minutes turned to twenty. Twenty turned to a half hour. Soon he looked at the clock and he realized an entire hour had passed, and he couldn't remember anything from the movie.

He looked around to see that more people had filled the room. There was a buff moose Gerald hadn't remembered from being in the front row. A large bear was sitting on the other side of the room now. There was even a doberman sitting bicep to bicep with Gerald, and for the life of him, Gerald couldn't remember someone sitting next to him. He thought about saying something to his new canine neighbor, but the look in the doberman's eyes stopped him. They looked so far away and distant yet had such a powerful concentration to them. He was absorbing the orientation like a sponge.

"Gerald Sinclair?"

Gerald turned behind him and craned his neck upwards to see a sizable boar in a lab coat looking down at him.

"Yes?" Gerald answered with quiet reverence as if he was speaking to a stern librarian.

"Please come with me," the boar asked in a hushed tone, to which Gerald obeyed. As he rose and followed the boar out a door opposite of the one he entered through, he looked back at the doberman. He wondered how some people could give such focus to something so boring.

Gerald was escorted by the boar through a short series of hallways, but it might as well have been a labyrinth with the bull's poor sense of direction. He had lost his way several times just getting to the clinic, so he was very relieved to have the boat lead him. He saw that most people went in pairs through the halls though. A number of people passed the boar and Gerald, and it was always a couple: two muscular men, one with a lab coat and one with that same eerie expression Gearld had seen on the doberman. Gerald started to become nervous after seeing that look so many times, though he couldn't say why. He simply shrugged it off.

Gerald was brought to what seemed to be an examination room. At least, Gerald thought it was one. With as bad as Gerald was with money and dates, he hadn't had an appointment for a while and therefore wasn't the most familiar with what a doctor's office should look like. There were various apparatus systems and pieces, many tubes and seemingly phallic tools that Gerald felt uncomfortable looking at. He looked around for a place to sit down, but there didn't seem to be one. The boar stood across from Gerald writing on a clipboard after shutting the door, leaving the bull to awkwardly stand there waiting for the next instruction. Gerald was about to break the silence, but the boat must have sensed that as he raised a single finger to silence Gerald. Then he looked up.

"Revenue requires that you kneel."

Gerald's mind suddenly careened with the bizzarest sense of vertigo. His knees buckled, and Gearld tumbled down. He held one hand to his head as the room spun around him. He was on his knees now, but it felt like he was in the middle of an earthquake. A swarm of lights and dots swam through his field of vision before they slowly started to refine into something more familiar to Gerald. The room evened out and the vertigo faded but left Gerald's vision fuzzy. Rippling lines of color rolled right to left, and he could have sworn he saw periodic black spots appear and disappear in the upper left-hand corner of the room.

He was so disoriented with the sudden and concerning shift in perfection that he barely noticed the pinching sensation at his nipples. He looked down and through the black and white fuzziness of his vision to see that two of the aforementioned tubes were now latched to his nipples by suction. More concerningly, and third, larger tube was connected to his soft clock in the same way.

He was about to say something again when he heard a voice say, "Revenue requires that you present your hole."

Another, worse wave of vertigo rocked Gerald's world as his head was pressed down to the ground by the sensation. The fuzziness got worse, as did the lines and spots. He felt his brain grow hazy as well, though he did feel something else. Gerald felt something at his asshole, now raised to the heavens with the bull's face on the floor. Something was going in his asshole, and it hurt. Gerald winced in pain at the intrusion, yet the more he instinctively fought against it, the easier it seemed to go in until he noticed that it started to feel different. Instead of feeling pain the bull felt pleasure. His groans of pain transformed to moans of pleasure as a phallic tool was planted firmly into his ass.

Gerald was just wondering what was going to happen next when a third command came.

"Revenue requires that you submit."

At that the bull lowed animalistically. His vision became overtaken by the fuzziness, lines, and spots until he could no longer distinguish reality from the old television screen. It was all the same to Gerald now. Time was no longer a concept for him to understand. He simply zoned out as the dildo started pumping in and out of his beefy ass and the tube started milking him of whatever he could provide. The boar smiled as he watched the mindless bull low and moo in pleasure, happy to see such a successful integration.

Looking at the bull's paperwork, the boar saw that Gerald owed the government an awful lot of revenue...