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Peterson College's Wild Run is an annual fund raising event that has seen success year on year. A short 4-kilometre run around the college campus and through the nearby woods, the wild run features climbing obstacles, tunnels, log bridges, a mud pit, a swimming section across a small lake and more. Each year students ask for sponsorship to enter the race with the proceeds going to various college faculties and social groups as well as a grand prize for the winner.

Dustin entered the Wild Run this year in order to earn some additional funds for the college's beleaguered Young Filmmakers Club. A club that had seen, paradoxically, a rise in popularity but a dip in funding. Both factors attributed to a specific event that earned the club some significant notoriety causing both a boost in student's interest in the club, but a desire for the college's more discerning groups to want to distance themselves from it. (A/N: You can read about this event in the short story 'Documentarians')

Dustin tapped his trainers on the track before bending to perform some pre-run stretches. The wild run would take him from the track looping the college's sports field, up a hill behind the main campus, through a short wooded area and back to the track for a few final obstacles and the finish. For participating, he had already raised just under $300, not bad at all. But if he finished first he could grab the grand prize of $1200, more than enough to rejuvenate the flailing club.

A whistle went and a new runner set off. He was next. Dustin walked over to the starting line, smiled and waved at the crowds gathered around, and took his position. Toes planted in the starting blocks, fingers splayed on the track, butt up in the air. Undignified, sure, but necessary. He took a deep breath. And another.

The whistle blew.

Dustin took off. Not the fastest exit from the starter, but a good one. He wasn't a sprinter. His strength lay in his endurance, and this is where he hoped he could gain an edge. He took off down the track to the cheers of the crowd, getting into a good pace as he broke off the track and down the path out of the sports field and towards Sunrise Hill.

The first obstacle was coming up, a cargo net stretched out over a low frame for the runners to crawl under. There were skid marks in front of the net, most likely from people who tried a running dive to start the trek, but Dustin wasn't planning on that. He tried to transition from running to crawling as well as he could as he approached the net, it was ugly, but probably safer.

He scrambled forward, pulling with his elbows and pushing with his knees, making good time. He had to keep his head low, his chin tucked to his chest; getting his antlers caught would end his run right here. He kept going until he spotted the final post slip past his peripheral vision, at which point he could look forward once again and begin to stand and resume his run. He'd past the fist challenge and hadn't lost any time. He gave his shorts a quick tug up as he pushed away and the race continued.

The next obstacle was more of an environmental hazard. Sunrise Hill itself. This is where Dustin hoped he would be able to gain the most time. Hopefully the other runners would be too obsessed with keeping a high pace throughout the race that they would burn themselves out running uphill. Dustin kept a decent but steady pace, relying on his distance-running endurance to see him through. He pressed on and soon was able to see the back of the runner who had left the blocks before him. He smiled, but then quickly reminded himself not to get too cocky. At the top of the hill was a large A-Frame covered in cargo netting.

Dustin jumped at the netting and began to scramble up. He made the top and swung his legs over just as the goat runner ahead of him hopped off and continued across the track and into the light woods. Scrambling down was a little more difficult, but he still made good time. He quickly regained his pace as he entered the wooded area.

The track was new, and Dustin was attacked by tree branches as he ran through. They caught and pulled at his shirt, shorts and antlers. Up ahead he saw the goat runner. They'd paused, hand on a tree trunk and looking down. Dustin knew what was coming. He'd scouted the area earlier. The next obstacle was the very steep trek down the other side of the hill. The goat wiggled his stance and began to shuffle-slide down the slope, reaching out for the next trunk, trying desperately to keep their balance. But Dustin had a plan. He jogged a little further along the track and found his spot. He sat down, wiggled his hip slightly to the side, took a deep breath and pushed off.

Not often would one advise sledding without a sled, and Dustin was aware that this choice would likely make sitting down rather uncomfortable for the nest few days, but giving in to gravity and working with the muddy hill could buy him even more valuable time. He was already halfway down even as the goat in his wake made it to the quarter-mark. But it wasn't smooth sailing. Rocks in the ground cracked painfully against his rump and branches, twigs and other undergrowth caught and snagged at his gear. His shorts took a beating but the worst came as a branch caught his loose shirt.

Dustin came to a shuddering halt as his shirt was yanked up to his armpits. His arms were pulled upwards towards his head. He hung for a few seconds before making a decision. He'd loose time trying to free his arms and untangle himself, and there was no guarantee he'd even be able to do that. So he straightened his arms, wriggled and slipped out of his shirt to continue his downwards decent.

Well, it'd be embarrassing crossing the finish line shirtless, but it's not as though there weren't other runners in that condition, but he wasn't all that happy about having his bare chest on display. Still, couldn't be helped. He had to finish the race. A few more skids and bumps later and he reached the bottom of the hill, passing another runner as he did. Picking himself up as best he could and keeping as much momentum as possible he tore forward and continued on down the field.

The next obstacle loomed, another natural obstacle, but this time taking the form of a small river. There were a few folks on the shore, no doubt a combination of runners working themselves up to diving into the cold water and safety officials. Dustin wasn't a good swimmer, however his good performance at the race so far, as well as the sight of several runners paused at the river, buoyed his confidence. He could do this! He was obviously doing better than a number of the other runners! There was a good chance he was in the lead. Steeling himself as best he could as he approached the shore, Dustin closed his eyes, planted his feet and pushed forward, hands stretched out in front of him.

He entered the water cleanly and broke out into a competent breaststroke. At least one other runner saw his entry and dove in immediately after, realising the amount of time they'd lost dallying at the shore. The shock of the cold water sent a shudder through Dustin briefly, but the adrenaline and muscle burn of his exercise prior easily helped him overcome it. Dustin powered through and reached the opposite shore in a very impressive time. He pulled himself up and out and then broke into his final sprint, there was only the distance to the college track and a final obstacle to go.

Dustin pulled at the drawstrings of his shorts. The descent down the hill and the soaking in the river had taken their toll on them. But for now his attention was taken up more by the approaching crowd and their reaction to his dripping wet shirtless body. His cheeks flushed as he closed in, and he tried to keep his attention on the track, his destination and his breathing. He entered the college track. Just ahead was the final obstacle, a set of monkey bars, and after that all he needed to do was sprint down the remainder of the track to the finish line.

His lungs burned and his heart beat hard in his chest as he approached the bars. He pulled on the drawstrings of his shorts, took a deep breath and jumped up, clearing the beginning of the mud pit that ran underneath the structure, and grasping the bars with both hands. He began his movement across.

Dustin didn't have much in the way of upper body strength, and he soon found out, after only 4-5 bars that he was not going to get across relying just on those. He tucked his knees in slightly, swung back and forth and used the momentum of his lower body to swing him further, allowing him to skip 2 bars in one go. Releasing his rear hand and swinging again he skipped another 3 bars. But this manoeuvre came at a cost: his previously re-adjusted drawstrings gave out and the front of his shorts slipped down, revealing his lower tummy and the top edges of the rougher, thicker fur of his crotch. His eyes blinked open at the sensation of his failing waistband. He hoped no-one had noticed, and he preyed he could move forward quick so that he could get to the other side before his shorts gave out completely. He swung himself backward and repeated his manoeuvre, only covering 2 bars this time, but it was enough for disaster to strike.

He felt the 'pop' from the back of his shorts, the clasp above his tail gave out leaving the garment with no tension to keep them about his waist. The added weight of the garment from its soaking in the river proved too much for the frayed waistband and it slipped dramatically, barely catching itself at the top of his thighs. There was a sudden collective gasp from several members of the audience as Dustin's predicament became obvious to everyone. The waistband slipped down his front, passing his pubic mons and revealing the root of his penis to everyone. Hanging in front of the crowd, Dustin's crotch was at almost exactly eye-level to the audience. An audience now enraptured at the slow but near inevitable appearance of the slender deer's genitals. Dustin began to panic, his eyes wide and flitting across the audience. He couldn't make eye contact with any of them, all of them were staring at the slow reveal of his penis. Some of them raised their phones, capturing the event on film.

Several members of the audience were stunned into silence for a few moments witnessing the events before them. The slim, shirtless deer navigating the monkey bars was suddenly in trouble with his loose running shorts now barely clinging on, threatening to reveal all. The deer's slim stomach with its barely-there outine of abs, and coating of light golden fur leading down to the thicker, darker fur of his crotch, giving way to fleeting glimpses of private flesh. One by one the audience broke out of their initial shock and a few smirks and giggles took its place. These gave way to cheers and hoots. Calls of encouragement for the for the failure of Dustin's modesty. As he hung from the bars, his shorts slipping, his privates slowly revealing themselves, inch by inch, Dustin's options to keep his dignity became more and more limited.

Hanging from the bars, Dustin began to grow desperate. He tried to pull his knees up to cover himself, but all that did was pull his shorts away from his rump. His fluff of a tail and his entire backside revealed itself to the crowd, prompting a cheer, and Dustin realised that straightening or moving his legs now was no longer an option. His shorts were now sitting in his lap, covering naught but his thighs. A few folks lower down in the audience could even see hints of his vulnerables drooping down beneath his tucked legs. Dropping down was not an option either, if his shorts got coated in the mud, he could lose them completely. He was only a few bars from the end. He had a chance. Dustin closed his eyes, tucked his legs as close to his groin as he could and began to swing.

He couldn't go hand-over-hand for the rest of the way, there was no way his arms would cope. But he could perform a final big swing. If he built up enough momentum he could propel himself beyond the mud pit. He may be exposed for a second before he could crouch and restore his dignity, but that seemed to be the only option. His chance of capturing the winning time was shrinking, his chance to keep his privates to him shelf was shrinking. He had to take this risk.

He swung back and forth. Providing quite a show to some folks in the audience who had the more advantageous positions, but there was not much he could do about that. He closed his eyes and tried to blank out the noise from the crowd, the additional sensation of loose swinging from between his legs, the woosh of cold air across his butt, the feel of the loose material that now pooled around his knees. He tried to focus on his momentum and identifying the best time to release his grip.

Back, forth, back, forth, back forth and RELEASE!

Dustin sailed through the air, his body went rigid as he flew. His arms stretched up above his head, his legs stretched out towards the track, everything between revealed to all who were watching. For a few seconds a bare naked deer presented his entirety to every onlooker. His bare, slim chest, his flaccid penis, lying loose over a velvety sack, itself sat atop his clenched, toned thighs. For a brief second, everyone saw everything. But then Dustin's feet made contact with the track.

The impact sent Dustin's shorts careening to the ground. He'd passed the mud pit, and had landed safely. He could crouch, drag up his remaining article of clothing and restore what was left of his dignity. But he never got the chance. He was carrying too much momentum. His upper body continued moving forward. He'd faceplant into the track if he didn't take action. He had no choice but to lift his foot and take a step forward. It was sheer luck that his shorts had pooled the way they did. Had they laid in any other position, they would have caught his ankles and sent him face-first into the floor, but his right foot was completely uncovered, and the step forward was unhindered. He stepped out of his shorts.

Time came to a standstill as the reality of his predicament hit home. Up ahead, he could see the finish line, and behind that, the big screen displaying the runner's times, with his name at the top. Behind him, however, he could feel the draft over his bottom, he could sense the air around his middle and the swinging of his intimates. As a mercy, his mind blocked out the raucous laughter, hollers and cheers of the onlookers. He could stop here. Recover his balance, grab his shorts and regain his modesty. But that would end his chance of winning the big prize. It would also leave him hopping on one leg, penis out and bouncing as he grasped at his clothing in front of a gathered crowd and their active cameras. Or he could continue, get away from those gawping eyes claim the prize and hope that there was something to cover with beyond that finish line. He made his choice.

His back foot also slipped out of his dropped garment easily. Dustin regained his jogging pace for a few steps before he thought to bring a hand between his legs to cover himself. The gathered crowd applauded, cheered and screamed in half-sincere encouragement as they watched the bare, toned buns of the deer tear off down the track. Dustin had his eyes closed as he ran forward, now bare naked infront of everyone. His desperation fuelling his pace as he tore towards the finish line. He tried to ignore the cheers, the applause and the whooping. He tried not to notice the wind at his back and the rush of air between his legs, whipping the fur at the underside of his tail. He tried, as best as he could to focus on the end.

The audience and the other competitors watched in awe, surprise, shock and joy as the naked deer sprinted across the track, buns bouncing, tail bobbing and one hand clasped desperately between his legs. Tears lay on his burning red cheeks as he crossed the line and clinched the winning time by a scant few seconds. Cheers went up, trumpets were blown and the applause was great. A few fellow runners jogged up to congratulate him.

Someone finally handed Dustin a towel which he quickly wrapped round himself. There were cheers and congratulations as well as comments on how brave and determined he'd been. Dustin wasn't sure if those words applied, but he was happy to accept them. He walked over to a line of benches, both hands firmly clasping the towel to himself. There he was handed a bottle of water, that he guzzled down greedily. He tried not to look at the big projector screen that was happily replaying his 'triumphant' dash over the finish line. A race marshal reported back that Dustin's shorts were now nowhere to be found. Dustin wasn't surprised.

The last few runners crossed the line, and none of them were able to beat Dustin's time. He'd done it! He'd claimed the prize money for the College Young Film Makers Club! Almost in a daze, but at least a happy, he was led to a stage amid loud applause and congratulations, still in just his towel. The second and third place winners greeted him and stood either side as an announcer read out the official times and prize money awarded to the three of them. More cheers and more applause! More celebration and more congratulation. Dustin stood between the two other winners and at the height of the festivity, as the announcer called out his name, both the other runners grabbed a hand each and raised it high in celebration.

Dustin's towel hit the floor.