Broadening Ken's Horizons - Chapter 1 - Back Pain
OK, this is my first attempt at erotica, let alone furry erotica. Bear with me, especially on style. I'm accustomed to writing technical documents, not short stories.
Anyway, the usual disclaimers apply. Adult material and so on, blah, blah. Hopefully, you'll enjoy. .
I was sitting on the examining table reading a year-old copy of Good Housekeeping. Waiting on doctors to finally show up was, to say the least, not one of my favorite pastimes. Plus, my back was about to kill me. I was startled by the door opening and hurriedly threw the magazine onto the stack on the counter.
Dr. Wilson walked in and closed the door behind him. He glanced over at the magazines, then at me. A small smile grew on his face, then he chuckled. "Guess I should get a better selection of reading material in here."
He glanced at his clipboard for a bit and pulled out a pen, marking on the paper for a bit, then looked up. "Been a couple years since you've been in, Ken. Let's make sure everything is up to date."
"OK," I shrugged in acknowledgment.
He glanced back down at the clipboard and started reading off information. "Six foot, even. Two hundred..." his voice trailed off as he looked up at me. "You've lost some weight since last time?"
I nodded. "185 or so, now".
He scratched out something on his notes and wrote for a little bit - obviously my old weight of around 250-ish. Ever since I got my latest job lifting heavy boxes at the factory, I had lost quite a bit of weight and put on a fair amount of muscle. Actually, I thought I looked pretty good for a man of...
"Forty-five?" the doctor interrupted.
"What? Oh, right, yes I'm 45." I replied.
"Well, everything else looks normal. My notes indicate you are here for back pain?"
"Right." I replied.
"OK," he continued as he laid the clipboard down. "Hop down off the table and pull off your shirt. Let me see your back."
I complied and stood with my back towards the doctor as he poked and prodded. Whenever I jumped, he concentrated more on that area.
"Are you performing repetitive tasks at work?" he asked. "Strenuous tasks?"
"Yes," I nodded.
"Wearing appropriate safety gear?"
"Always," I replied. That was one of the hard and fast rules at the factory. At my age, I couldn't afford to not comply.
The doctor prodded a few more seconds, then picked up his clipboard and sat down to make some notes. He motioned towards the table. "You can put your shirt back on. Have a seat."
I got dressed and plopped down on the table, watching as he wrote on his notes, flipping pages occasionally. Then he pulled out his phone and ran his fingers along the glass faceplate for a few seconds before poking at it and jotting down more information.
He tore off a half-sheet of paper and handed it to me. "I want you to see Dr. Skytower. He's one of the best physical therapists in town. His office address is on there. Call and make an appointment with him."
"He is also," The doctor hesitated for a moment before continuing, "a fur. If you have a problem with that, I also know a pretty good human..."
"No," I interrupted, "fur or human is fine with me, as long as he fixes my back."
It had been quite a few years now since furs had integrated into human society. I had pretty much grown accustomed to having them around. Probably half my department at work were furs. Several of us, both human and fur, often hit the bars on Fridays and always had a great time.
Even though I'm bi-sexual, though, I never really had any special feelings towards any of the furry guys I hung around with. They tended to more or less hang out with their own kind, far as I could tell.
Not that I would have minded, though. A couple of the furs were pretty attractive, but they never really seemed to show any keen interest in me. I figured they were probably straight.
I called Dr. Skytower's office on the way home and had an appointment set up for the next morning at 10 am. The girl that answered the phone indicated that Dr. Wilson had already forwarded the necessary records to them, so I wouldn't need to fill out any paperwork when I got there.
The next morning, I arrived at Dr. Skytower's office a few minutes before ten, was greeted by a cute vixen receptionist and shown back to an examining room by a rather uninteresting human, middle-aged woman.
"The doctor will be in shortly," she said rather matter-of-factly as she waved me into the room, shutting the door after I entered and sat down.
To my delight, I noticed a very current copy of Sports Illustrated on top of a neatly organized stack of reading material, picked it up and started idly flipping pages.
I could hear voices through the wall - two of them. I assumed it was the doctor and another patient. I couldn't make out what either was saying, but I could tell one of the voices was very deep, like a subwoofer was in the next room and the bass was cranked up a couple of notches. It sounded like a very friendly voice, as the talk next door was punctuated with the occasional chuckle.
I could hear the voices start to move and a door opening. Then the voices moved out into the hall and paused near the door to my room. I could then understand what was being said.
"Great job. Looking much better." Obviously the doctor's boomy voice.
"Thanks. Feeling a lot better, too." Obviously the patient's voice - a more normal pitch. "See you next Tuesday..." the voice trailed off towards the front of the office.
I could hear rustling papers outside my door, then the door handle turned and the door swung into the room. I looked up and almost uttered my exclamation aloud, but fortunately only thought it to myself - holy shit!
The doctor completely filled the oversized doorway and even had to turn sideways a little and duck slightly to clear the frame. He came on in the room, shut the door and stuck out a huge hand, finally breaking my trance.
A gentle, low voice said "Hi, I'm Dr. Skytower. And you must be..." he glanced down at his clipboard. "Ken?"
"Yes," I answered. "That's me."
I tried not to be too obvious staring at the fur equine god standing in front of me. He was every bit of eight feet tall. Light chestnut fur and golden mane and feathers indicated he was probably a Belgian. At the very least, he was definitely a draft breed.
Since the doctor was busy reading through his notes, I took the opportunity to size him up a little further. He was wearing pleated, loose-fitting khaki slacks, which still did little to disguise a pair of thighs each of which was probably almost as thick as my chest was broad.
His well-pressed shirt was also slightly loose fitting, but I could still roughly make out a perfect massive set of pecs and a nice v-shaped trunk that probably had the most perfect set of eight-packs leading down to...
"So, Ken," the doctor's voice startled me. I looked up to see him smiling broadly as I blushed. He continued, very businesslike, "Which part of your back is hurting?"
"The lower part," I answered.
"Mmm hmmm," he pondered aloud. "Pull off your shirt and let me take a look."
I complied and stood with my back facing the doctor. He set down his clipboard and stood behind me, gently massaging my lower back with his massive thumbs.
"Does that hurt?" he asked, the voice coming from a couple feet above my head. He was pushing around my lower spine with both thumbs. His hands were so large, he had his fingers wrapped around my waist, the fingertips only lacking a few inches of touching across my abs.
"Yes, a little," I winced as I replied.
"How about there?" he asked, after pushing both thumbs down lower, just under my belt.
"Oww!" I exclaimed in pain, almost buckling at the knees.
"I'm going to need you to drop your pants, and underwear," he paused. "If you would, please."
He glanced down at his notes with his back turned, out of professional courtesy. I pulled off my clothes after removing my shoes. Looking at the doctor from behind - those perfectly rounded glutes and cropped blonde tail - my erection about ripped off my shorts before I pulled them off. I managed to get it to subside to half limp before he turned back around.
"Lay face down on the table, please," he said without the slightest change of expression. At least this doctor was good at making the patient feel at ease.
I laid on the table with my head sideways on a pillow. Only my cock was somewhat uncomfortable, trapped between my body and the padded surface.
"You can push it down between your legs," the doctor said, as if reading my mind.
"Sure. OK," I said, pushing my cock down so that it was pointing towards my feet. At least that should help prevent an erection, I hoped.
Once I was comfortable, the doctor walked over to the table, then deftly swung a huge leg over it so he was straddling it. His big, plate-sized hoof landing on the floor with a loud clop.
He again started massaging and probing my lower back with those huge thumbs, at times working his way down my ass crack to find the end of my spine. After a while, he started working his way up my back, moving forward as he did so. I felt the gentle brush of fabric on my ass cheeks and realized how close his crotch was.
As he inched forward a little more, I could distinctly feel his heavy balls gently resting on my backside. Those things were damn huge! My cock strained to grow erect, hurting now because it was pointing the wrong way. More embarrassing, however, was the fact that I could feel a small puddle of precum forming on the vinyl surface of the table near my cockhead.
"Stand up and tell me how your back feels now," he said. I hadn't even noticed that the doctor had moved and was now standing next to the table, his hands on his hips.
I stood up slowly, my cock springing out in front of me, a thin trail of precum dribbling down towards the floor. I turned red with embarrassment. The doctor was not fazed.
"And?" he asked for confirmation. My cock was finally softening.
"Much better."
"Good. You can pull your clothes back on now," he said, scratching some notes down. "And don't worry about the mess. I'll clean that up."
At the last comment, I turned bright red again. Dr. Skytower kept on writing for a bit, then pulled around a large rolling chair, dropping heavily down on it. The chair audibly groaned under his weight.
"Sit," he motioned towards another chair. I complied.
He brought up one hoof from the floor and crossed his legs, and jotted a few last notes. My eyes were instantly drawn to the fabric now drawn tightly between his legs, perfectly outlining the two huge balls nestled within. They were each probably the size of a baseball, if not larger. I looked up just in time for the doctor to put down his clipboard.
"I'd like to see you back on Friday, if possible, to start some light therapy. I can provide an appropriate written excuse if your employer requires," he explained. "Would that work?"
"Sure. I'm on a flexible schedule," I explained. "What time?"
"How about 4pm? That way we aren't rushed."
"OK with me," I replied. Not rushed? Interesting.
He uncrossed his legs and stood, offering his hand.
"Excellent," he whinnied ever so slightly. "See you on Friday."
He opened the door and waved me through first, splitting off and heading towards his office as I headed to the front desk. I stole one more quick glance at those firm glutes before they disappeared around the corner.
When I got home, I raced to throw off my clothes and attended to my now raging erection. I came all over my chest in several thick ropes, imagining licking and fondling those huge dangling balls.
Shortly after regaining my breath and cleaning up the huge puddle of cum, the first guilty thoughts hit me. While society had for several years now recognized furs as rightful citizens, there was still an unspoken stigma about inter-species sex. Despite that, I found my thoughts occupied for the next two days partaking in hot, sweaty sex with Dr. Skytower.
Friday afternoon arrived quickly and I was still fantasizing about what I figured was probably an impossibility. Still, I held out hope as I entered the reception area promptly at 3:58 pm.