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Rick groaned. It was a deep sound, full of unspeakable agony. He blinked his eyes open, vision focusing slowly on the water-stained ceiling, not really aware of himself or his surroundings. He spent a good ten seconds like that - staring, confused, and most of all, wondering what that abominable sound was. Then his neighbor pounded the wall and shouted something that was unintelligible, probably in another language, but sounded quite colorful. His brain finally dragged itself into full awareness, and he pulled one hand out from under his covers, stretched it out, and slapped the snooze button on his alarm with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He continued staring at the ceiling, debating taking advantage of the snooze and dozing off again, but decided he'd better get up, if only to spare his neighbor, and himself, another sounding of his alarm clock. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he stretched every muscle in his body, the exhalation becoming a groan, a pleasurable one this time. He gave his chest a casual scratch with the hand still under the covers, then sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and briefly lost all motivation; he almost lay back down again, but the air felt chill without his covers, cold pulling him that last little bit into full wakefulness.

He took a deep breath and shook his head, grinning not for the first time at the very noticeable weight of his antlers swinging above him. They'd come in thick this year, four points on a side - not amazing, to be sure, but very suiting for his age and physique. He'd always been very fit - in fact, the reason he was awake at this ungodly hour was to get in a nice, long jog before work, which started at 5am - but this year his lean tone had begun to fill out with mass, as well. Earlier this year, he'd heard his boss describe him to somebody else as 'the bull elk that drives the track-hoe'. Of course, technically, he'd been a 'bull' for a few years now. But that was one thing; being casually recognized as such by men decades older than him was something else altogether. He grinned, laughing at himself and for a moment feeling like a foolish kid, then briskly rubbed his upper arms with his hands to stave off the chill as he hopped off the bed and moved to the thermostat with quick steps, spinning the dial sharply to a higher setting without really paying attention. He snatched his robe out of the dirty clothes hamper, reminding himself that he very definitely needed to do laundry tonight. He had been reminding himself of that every morning for three days now, and it was getting out of hand; there was a noticeable funk on the robe, but he ignored it as he moved through his apartment and got the coffee going.

That little necessity out of the way, there was another thing of some importance that needed dealing with; namely, his bladder was sending some rather unnerving distress signals up his spine. He'd meant to check the weather, too, but his molars were itching, and he hurried to the bathroom, in so much of a hurry that he banged into the door a bit before his hand could get the knob turned, and he didn't bother swinging it shut behind him like he usually would, even alone in his own apartment. He yanked on his robe's knot, cursing when it stuck, then simply lifted it up and spread the part open, hooked a thumb through the waistband of this briefs and pulled them down, digging a hand in deep to pull out his trapped, and hard, member. He ground his teeth, consciously willing his morning wood to go down, little good that it did, then settled for forcing his shaft down as best he could with his thumb and leaning forward, the operation complicated further by his sheath. He muttered a sharp curse when his antlers bumped the wall, preventing him from leaning forward as far as he'd like. He had to shuffle his feet back a bit, thanking the stars that he was alone - he looked utterly ridiculous, stretched out and trying to lever then tip of his narrow-looking ten inch shaft down towards the bowl. Finally, slowly, pulsing with every heartbeat, he felt his erection begin to recede, and let out a low, thankful moan when the pressure on his bladder began to release when the erection was still only a quarter of the way down. When his bladder was finally empty, he opened his eyes and tugged his briefs back into place, putting his hand down inside them to adjust things a bit and give himself a brief scratch and a playful squeeze on his sack. He'd been told a time or two that they were noticeably big, but he'd never thought much of them except how they itched if he didn't have time to get a good shower after his run.

With that thought in mind, he hustled back to his bedroom, throwing the robe back in the basket and quickly digging around for some long johns and a light long-sleeved t-shirt, both of which he hastily pulled on, followed by a heavy, hooded sweatshirt and some sweatpants. He briefly debated putting on his hoof protectors as well. They were good for traction and avoiding chips, but he hated the tight, restricting feel of them, and the rubber had a tendency to twist and give ever so slightly if he tried to turn quickly. He shrugged, picking them up and carrying them back to the kitchen, putting the decision off until later. The coffee pot was full but still dripping a little, so he let is sit for the moment and flicked on the T.V., turning it to the local weather monitoring station to see just how cold it was outside. He'd heard there was a chill coming, but he hadn't expected it to be so bad as his room felt when he woke that morning. He cringed at what he saw - it was definitely chilly, and worse, there was a decent chance of freezing rain later in the morning. He woke up his laptop and checked a weather site he'd come to trust for hourly forecasts, and it looked like there were even odds it wouldn't rain at all, but if it did, it would be hours yet before. Still... He looked at the hoof protectors again. If he had to run in wet, or worse, ice, he'd regret not having them. He made an indecisive noise in the back of his throat, then shrugged again, mumbling 'fuck it'; he really did hate wearing the things. If it rained at all, it would be near the end of his run, he rationalized.

A half hour later, he had two cups of coffee in him, his water bottle was filled and cold, and he'd taken off his hoodie, added another thick shirt, then put the hoodie back on. He hated changing clothes when his antlers were in - most of his wardrobe was at least half-zippered if not fully so or button-up, and the little added extra steps that came with every donning or removing of a shirt were a necessary tedium for his kind. It was worth it though, he suspected; the weather was cold, and he'd appreciate the hoodie if it started to rain. He knew he'd be carrying it once his workout got him warmed up, but it would be a cold start this morning and he'd be glad of it those first fifteen or twenty minutes. He also grabbed a pair of warm gloves. He was ready to go. The elk's breath steamed in a billowing cloud when he stepped out the door, but he jogged in place quickly, shaking off the chill as he pulled the door to behind him, then took off down the alley, grinning and feeling awake and alive and full of energy.

Forty-five minutes later, his spirits were dampened greatly. Soggy, you might say. He muttered a general curse against all weathermen as ice-cold rain splattered onto his hood. It was freezing nearly as soon as it hit anything else, but his workout had got him warmed up enough to let the ice thaw and soak into his heavy sweats, while his own sweat permeated most of his underclothes. He was jogging much slower now, cautious on the slippery concrete and promising himself he'd never go out again without the hoof protectors if there was even a one percent chance of a single raindrop landing anywhere in the sprawling city. He stopped under the overhang of a closed shop, getting his bearings and thinking. He didn't have cash for a cab, and even if he did, he didn't want to spend the money on a fare. On a clear morning, he could finish his usual circuit back to the apartment in a half hour, but at this rate, with the slick ground, it would be double that at the least. He looked around, taking stock of his surroundings, and decided to make a straight cut through the city and back home; shaking ice off himself, he turned a corner and started trotting down an empty street. He'd never been this way before, but he had an excellent sense of direction and an overall good 'feel' for the city; besides, even having never been down this particular road, he knew the part of town. It was full of businesses, particularly white-collar professionals - lawyers, family practice doctors, dentists, that sort of thing. Very low crime, and well-patrolled by police. He certainly had no fear of being mugged. Besides, he was functionally wearing eight pointy weapons directly affixed to his skull. Nobody would be bothering him.

He made it another half mile maybe before deciding he really, really should have called that cab, but by now he was refusing out of sheer stubbornness. Still, this was turning into a heck of a downpour, and freezing cold at that, but another option presented itself: about a block away, there was a building fairly well separated from any others, but looking clean and well-kept. It was white, and a sign was lit above it. "Clinic" was all it said, but in the window he could see a blaze-orange 'Open' sign. The elk picked up his pace, grunting as he slipped and almost fell as he hurried to the little business, hoping they wouldn't mind letting him warm up and wait out the storm or, failing that, at least use a phone to call a cab. He bounced off the wall at the door, muttering to himself as his eyes took in the work 'Pull' above the door handle, then cracked the door and quickly stepped inside, stamping his feet on the muck-mat just inside the door and brushing off icicles as he looked around at the brightly fluorescent-lit clinic.

Despite the bright lighting and perfect cleanliness of the place, it had an almost cozy feel to it. The furniture in the waiting area looked very comfortable, and there was quite a bit more of it than usual. He did take in a few oddities - for one, there was a curtain in the middle of the waiting room, half-pulled closed, but behind it there was a padded medical examination table. He didn't think much of it, though; for the moment he was too distracted by simply being suddenly warm, realizing for the first time how truly cold he was. As his casual gaze panned around, he jumped, nearly falling down in surprise when he noticed for the first time a male fox sitting behind the counter near the entrance. "I, uhh...heh, sheesh, sorry, I didn't notice you there at first. Uhm. Hi." He waved a gloved hand, the motion fanning droplets of water onto the clean floor, then quickly pulled off his gloves. "Sorry to burst in like that, especially at a time like this, but I was out for my morning jog and got caught in the rain. It's coming down like crazy; the weather channel said it might not rain at all and if it did, it wouldn't be for hours yet, but I guess I should've known better. Anyways, I saw you were open and was hoping I could wait it out here, or at least call a cab or something?"

The fox sat there for a moment, smiling a bit awkwardly at the onslaught of greetings, apologies, and explanation, then simply laughed at Rick, holding the edge of the desk and bending over, trying to fight down the laughter enough to talk and only managing to make a few grunts as he pointed at the bull, the laughter renewing every time he looked at him again. Finally, though, he managed to stop enough to get up out of his chair and gesture for Rick to follow him. He lead him down a hall, into an examination room, and pointed at a mirror on the wall. Rick leaned down a little, looking at his reflection, and couldn't help laughing himself - his antlers were covered in icicles. The fox reached out, lightly touching the tip of one with a finger. "You must be a 30-point bull with these, hah!" Once both their laughter had faded off a bit, Rick held out his hand and introduced himself. The fox returned the handshake - "Jonathan, nice to meet you." 'Heck of a grip', Rick thought, and he reassessed the fox. This wasn't your typical lean-and-lithe type fox; he was very clearly in shape, and not just cardio. Rick grinned, then quickly looked at a random point on the wall when he noticed Jonathan noticing him noticing Jonathan's assets. He felt his briefs get a little bit tighter, and mentally cursed, trying to think of safer things. The fox gave him a sly grin and nodded. "You're welcome to call a cab if you want, or if you'd rather, you can stay here and wait out the weather. We stay open 'round the clock, but it's usually slow this early, and it'll be even slower with this downpour, so no harm. If you want, we've got a washer and dryer in the back; I could toss those sweats in and get you some spare clinical scrubs to wear in the meantime...?"

Rick didn't have to think very long - free laundry versus paying for a cab? Easy choice. "I'd just as soon save the cab fare, if you don't mind." Jonathan nodded, gesturing at a collapsible metal frame holding up a long, thin plastic bag. "Just strip off and toss your clothes in there; I'll go get you some scrubs in the meantime." He quickly turned and walked out, and Rick stood there for a half minute, indecisive about whether to wait until he had the scrubs in hand before undressing, but he decided to gamble on the fox's grin and do exactly as he had been told - he stripped off his shirts as quick as he could, though the ice and wet made the hoody's zipper stick and his fingers, still warming up, fumbled at the buttons on the heavy shirt underneath. He just managed to get them off and the sweatpants and long johns as well when Jonathan came back in. Rick had his back to the door, but he could see the fox in the mirror, and by the sudden stop he made, very noticeably taking in the rear view of Rick in only his briefs, the elk was pretty confident he'd won the gamble. He briefs started to grow tight again, and he mentally fought it down, trying to think of a way to get Jonathan out of his clothes so he could get his own look. His attention snapped sharply to present circumstances, though, went he felt Jonathan's hand on one of his toned cheeks - followed shortly by a sharp sting and a dull pressure in the muscle. He turned around, one eyebrow raised curiously, but Jonathan simply gave him a bashful smile as he handed over the scrubs. "Yike, sorry, I think I might've got you with a claw there. I really need to get them filed down. Here, I think these ought to fit you. If you want to take your shorts off for the laundry, too, I can just toss them in once you're changed. I've got to check the front desk real quick, but feel free to get comfortable on the table there. I'll be back in a few minutes." As the fox turned to leave, he reached up and snapped off one of the quickly-melting icicles from Rick's antlers, slipping it between his lips in a rather suggestive fashion before walking out of the room again.

Rick felt his tip begin poking just out of his waistband by the time the door swung shut, and he had to laugh a little as he pulled on the scrubs. They did fit, though the shirt was clearly not meant for cervines, and took a bit of work to get on. He stumbled a bit more than usual getting the pants on, chalking it up to giddiness at first - the fox was very clearly interested, though you never could tell with them; they did like to tease - but by the time he had the string in the waistband tied, he was feeling decidedly drowsy. He sat down on the examination table, thinking that jogging in the freezing weather had definitely been more of a workout than he'd anticipated and sorely regretting not having any real breakfast. He lay back, legs dangling over the edge to give his antlers enough room at the head of the table, which sat snug against the wall, and closed his eyes. He'd barely breathed once when the sedative washed over him completely, pulling him into a deep sleep.

When his eyes popped open again, he had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but he did feel well rested. He had a brief moment of panic when his eyes focused on the unfamiliar ceiling, but he quickly recalled where he was and took a deep breath, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes. It was then that real panic hit him. Breathing deep, he felt a solid pressure on his chest, and when he tried to move his hand, it also met with solid resistance. He rolled his head up, and realized he was strapped to the table, broad leather strips laced over his torso and padded leather cuffs pinning his hands to the sides near his waist. His legs were stretched out in front of him, spread apart and supported individually, partially bent at the knee and strapped down as well. He had only struggled for a moment and begun to shout when the door opened and Jonathan walked in, grinning ear to ear. "Finally, you're awake! You've been conked out for an hour now, you know. It's a good thing this room has a table with straps, or you'd have rolled right off." Rick relaxed under the fox's easy smile, his still-foggy head accepting the explanation - for all of three seconds. That was how long it took him to realize he was no longer clothed. At all. "..." He tried to protest, but couldn't even begin to find the words. He was about to ask Jonathan just what the hell this was all about, but all he got out was "Wha..." when he felt Jonathan's hand on his crotch, fingertips squeezing his sheath lightly, rubbing up the length a single time. It was then that he noticed the fur behind the lapels of Jonathan's lab coat; if Rick were to make another gamble, he'd have bet that the long, white coat was the only thing Jonathan had on at that point. Rick was too shocked to respond, so his cock did it for him, filling out his sheath and slowly sliding out, giving a light twitch with each beat of his heart. He rolled his head up, grinning wide himself now, and locked eyes with the fox. Jonathan grinned back, then quickly glanced down at the elk's crotch, and Rick's eyes followed.

His grin faltered a bit, face going stiff when he saw the scalpel in Jonathan's other hand, shining sharp steel balanced lightly on the fox's fingers, the blade a bare fraction of an inch from his steadily growing member. His eyes flashed back up to Jonathan's, a hint of fear beginning to show in them, and the fox grinned back - at the same time, Rick felt a tiny, sharp poke in the side of his shaft, there and gone in a blink. He quickly looked down again, seeing the blade seemingly still hovering just shy of him, but a tiny, telltale bead of blood was just welling up out of the side near the blade, a bit above it now as his erection was still growing. As he watched, Jonathan's fingers gave a tiny, precise flick, and the blade moved, barely touching him and then pulling away again, but he felt it, another sharp jab, and as he watched, another bead of blood began welling up. Shortly after, the fox's face came into his field of view, muzzle dipping towards the growing shaft; Jonathan's tongue slid out of his mouth almost lazily, the flat of it pressing firmly against Rick's cock, and then the fox was dragging it up, pausing briefly at each tiny prick he had made as he slurped up the blood and smeared it along to Rick's tip. The elk moaned, his head falling back - holy gods, but that felt good. He shook his head a little, knowing he wasn't thinking clearly. He'd obviously been drugged, and now some mad doctor was stabbing his dick - his dick! - with a scalpel, but...that tongue. He moaned again as Jonathan's tongue rolled around the tip of his cock, and he felt warm breath lingering there, then fingers levering his cock up as warmth engulfed the end. He dared another look, and saw the first four inches of his now full-erect member buried in the fox's muzzle - and that blade still hovering at the base. As soon as he looked, his eyes caught Jonathan's, and the fox grinned, jabbing the scalpel towards him again. Rick tensed in anticipation, closing his eyes, but he felt nothing. He opened his eyes again to see the fox still grinning, the scalpel held well away from him now. Rick let out a relieved breath. Or rather, he let out half a relieved breath. That was all he managed before he felt the fox's teeth grinding harshly against his tip. His head slammed back against the table, back arching, legs and arms straining against the bonds, but for all his strength, the straps were clearly stronger, and all he could do was suck in air through his teeth until, slowly, he felt Jonathan pull his muzzle away, teeth pressing down and dragging every inch of the way, finally pinching together at the very tip.

Rick let out a shuddering breath, lifting his head again for another look and feeling slightly surprised when all he saw was red, irritated skin. He thought for sure the fox had done worse, but clearly he hadn't bitten through. Another bead of blood welled up from his tip and began rolling down the side, and Rick quickly amended that thought, remembering the sharp pinch at the end, then gasped with pleasure as Jonathan's muzzle darted down again, tongue flicking out and over his tip to catch the droplet of blood. Jonathan grinned at Rick, licking his lips lewdly. "Hope you're having fun." Rick opened his mouth to answer, then snapped his jaws shut again, settling for a nod that held anticipation that was fear and excitement in equal parts - the fox was holding the scalpel's blade to the side of his cock, just barely touching. Jonathan winked at him. "Good." He rolled the scalpel to an angle, then dragged it up broadside to Rick's cock, like stropping a razor on a leather strip, the blade scratching a wide red line of irritation in Rick's flesh, but not cutting him. When he nearly reached Rick's tip, he slowly rolled the blade back the other way, the pressure just enough to score a thin line, a bit more blood seeping out as the fox dragged the sharp blade in the other direction, scraping the already irritated skin even more raw. Rick lay his head back again, not daring to watch anymore.

The next thing he felt was a hand on his cock, cool and wet. He started to look up, but then decided against it, simply opting to enjoy himself as much as he could and wait for the other shoe to drop, while his balls tingled with steadily growing arousal. It didn't take long; soon that cool wet turned warm, and not just from the fox's handjob. His cock was feeling very warm. Uncomfortably warm, even. Where the blade had nicked him, it was downright stinging. He finally dared a glance up, and Jonathan winked at him again. "Warming lubricant - I've always wondered if the effect would be intensified if the nerve endings were a bit more, enh, exposed, hehe." The fox waved the scalpel at him, grinning, then set it aside. Rick lay his head back again, groaning, his hips shifting and fighting the straps however much he knew it was pointless as the burning sensation only grew stronger with each passing moment. He came to an abrupt stop, though, when he felt one of the fox's clawtips pressing hard against the tip of his shaft. "Now now, cutie, I need you to hold still for me." The clawtip pressed down harder still, and his flesh slipped aside a bit, the claw suddenly dipping down into his urethra. The fox snorted, mumbling "Whoops", but the pressure increased further, the claw delving deep, stretching his hole wider untip the tip curled enough to dig against him from the inside, and Rick yelled, more from shock than anything, though the pain was certainly intense. He was so distracted by it, in fact, that Jonathan had rammed his cock three inches into Rick's hole before he even realized what the fox was doing. The claw finally retreated, and Jonathan resumed steadily stroking Rick's shaft, the pleasure an even match for the fire the bull felt each time Jonathan's hand smeared more of that lubricant into one of his shaft's wounds and the steady, deep sunburn-sensation where he had scraped him.

Jonathan began steadily rocking in and out of Rick, not being brutal but clearly meaning not to exactly take his time, either. Rick, for his part, consciously tried to relax; he'd been hoping that he'd be the one on top, but the bull had to admit he'd had a fantasy or two about things going the other way now and then. Nothing in his wildest dreams could measure up to the level of crazy he'd stumbled into this morning, but he had to admit, he was having fun. He just hoped the crazy didn't get any crazier. It didn't take long for that hope to go flying out the window, though; a minute or so of steady humping later, and Jonathan was fully buried in the elk's toned backside, and Rick felt a hand fondling his heavy-hanging sack, fingers pushing the orbs around, rolling them lightly as the fox pulled his hips back, then suddenly a dull throb of agony lanced through Rick's groin as Jonathan's hand clamped down on one nut, squeezing it brutally as he slammed his cock back home. The bull elk's muscles all tensed simultaneously, a pulse of raw pleasure mixing with the throbbing from his nut as he subconsciously clenched around the fox's cock, noticing very distinctly the slight bulge of the beginnings of a knot. He realized then what Jonathan was doing, and tried to clench consciously, make himself as tight as he could for the fox. Jonathan grinned, his hand picking up the pace stroking Rick's shaft. "Ooh, you're a fast learner." He began pumping Rick's ass more aggressively, taking full advantage of Rick's clenching pucker, still lightly holding that one nut, but only just cradling it up and out of his way as he pistoned in and out while his hand jerked up and down. Rick felt his balls beginning to pull up close to his crotch, the heavy mix of sensations becoming too much for the bull as he built up to a climax, letting out a tight groan as he went over the edge and began fountaining cum from his burning cock. He managed to get out two loads before Jonathan's hand clamped down on his nut again, sharply yanking it away from his body, and the bull's groan of pleasure went up sharply in pitch to a near scream, though his orgasm rolled on after only a slight interruption. Still, each time his body spasmed to pump out another load, he felt a sharp twinge of pain to match it. His orgasm was still ebbing when he felt Jonathan's knot suddenly bulge inside him, the fox straining for a moment, popping it out of the elk with a wet squelch, then hammered it back in, rocking Rick in his restraints. He groaned as he felt himself stretching to accommodate it, letting out a tight gasp when it finally slipped inside him again, flaring bigger still as Jonathan slumped forward, hands trying to clench into fists and instead only squeezing down brutally on Rick's shaft and nut alike.

It seemed an eternity before Rick could breathe again as Jonathan's climax finally ebbed, his grip on the elk's manhood relaxing at last. The fox grinned at Rick, absent-mindedly stroking his cock as the fox's knot slowly receded. "By the way, the rain stopped a half hour ago, and your clothes ought to be out of the dryer by now, if you want to jog home. Or, if you'd rather, I could still call you a cab." Rick sighed, then swallowed and nodded. "A cab sounds good." He closed his eyes, thanking the stars that the crazy seemed to have finally ended.

When he got home, Rick stumbled to the shower, soaking until all the hot water was gone. He'd winced more than a little when he cleaned his crotch - he expected he'd be tender for a few days, but everything seemed to be intact. His mind was still reeling from the morning's events, but what was even more surprising to him was that the fox had seemed sincere when he invited Rick to come back any time - and that Rick couldn't help feeling tempted to take him up on the offer. For now, though, all he wanted was to go back to bed.