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Complete

by H. A. Kirsch

Copyright 2012

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Francis Leonard Cutler was going to make a very big change. Cybernetic prostheses for his arms and legs and tail were big changes too, but they had just restored his life back to normal functioning after twenty-one years.

This change was different. This change would make him a man, in addition to being a fox.

Leo stood at a big picture window that looked into a surprisingly pleasant large room. The room was lit by small halogen spotlights, turning an otherwise medical setting into something befitting a magazine advertisement. The walls had paintings on them, several beautiful long-exposure sea and landscapes, sunrises and sunsets, light streaming through misty forest leaves, waves frothing like smoke at a tropical beach. A few chairs sat around the outside, with small tables between them, almost like a waiting room. Everything was attractive, but as minimalist as possible, all perfectly smooth edges, non-fabric cushions.

The decor could only do so much; the largest object in the room was a huge enclosed bed. The enclosure was made of curved, clear safety plastic, marred in several regular places by circles almost as large as dinner plates. Each circle was black, a screwed-on gasket with a long, shiny black rubber glove hanging inside. The 'bed' featured a number of small holes, which were meant for modular restraints. The pillow area was interchangeable for an oval face cut-out, in case someone had to be face down. Thoughtful designers had even included a video display inside the bed supports, for the patient's entertainment in such a position.

A computer console with several monitors and keyboards sat next to the isolation bed, cables wrangled into a neat corrugated black snake. On the other side, near the head, sat the environmental and respiration equipment.

Leo kept his black fox hands on the bottom frame as he waited. Touching the glass, he felt the cool glass and a slight vibration from the strange turmoil that had taken over the room. Inside, a red light started flashing and a panel slid open on the wall. Then, a robotic arm emerged and started to spray something around the room. It made a powerful, swirling mist that quickly settled out onto everything. Blowers started up, turning the mist into a vanishing tornado. The arm retracted, shuttered itself, and then turned on a pleasing green light.

"You may now enter the prosthetics fitting area. Please stay in the sanitizing mist until the orange light comes on. Davidson Biotechnology thanks you for your cooperation." The recorded voice had the same resonant, pleasant American accent as every science fiction movie computer system.

Leo sighed and stepped through the door, which automatically slid apart for him and closed afterwards.

"Please look forward at the green light, then close your eyes."

The fox did as instructed, and a soft chime sounded.

"Take a deep breath, then exhale slowly."

He inhaled, and something hissed around him. Mist landed all over his fur; it smelled like lime and mint. A gigantic mojito, he thought, as he exhaled. A soft chime escalated to a pretty, satisfying musical chord, and air whisked the last of the mist away. Leo shivered, not from the cold breeze, but from realizing that he could feel it even over the backs of his hands, even on his tail. For twenty one years since the accident, he had felt nothing from any of those parts, because he didn't have them.

"Now, enter the isolation bed and lie down. Keep your body inside of the double green line," the voice said, in its placid, comforting anonymity. Leo wondered what life was like when nurses - real people! - stood at one's side the entire way through medical procedures. He also wondered what would happen if he were color-blind.

He walked up to the isolation bed and it opened like a clam. It hadn't been the first time. He sat down, ducked his head, and reclined. As soon as he'd kept his body inside of the double green line for a few seconds, the lid closed, accompanied by another soft musical chime.

"Now relax, and a prosthetics technician will be along to assist you. Entertainment is available via the display screen directly above your head. If you require a mouth stick, turn your head to the left and look at the green light until you hear the chime."

Leo did not need a mouth stick this time. He had all four limbs now, and even a tail. Those had been added over the last year and a half. He relaxed on his back, one black hand taking hold of his tail and guiding it into one of the relief cutouts that ran across the middle of the isolation chamber's bed. Then, he waited.

"Well who do I get to hack into today, huh?" Someone said, startling Leo out of a doze he hadn't tried to start. "It's Leo! Six for six," the intruder said, voice both muffled and slight from outside the chamber's impenetrable plastic, and parroted with overly intimate crispness by a speaker behind Leo's head. Out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw a dark shape push a covered cart into the room.

"Hi Kenny," Leo said, resisting the urge to sit up. In case he did, there was a helpful fabric pad at the appropriate part of the isolator's clear plastic.

"Let's see what you're doing here today. Ahh, looks like you're in for penis installation," Kenny said, eyes on what he was now keying in. Kenny was one of the more unusual hybrids around, a furless canid known as a Shenaus. His bare skin was as black and textured as fine leather, and he had equally dark short fur where a human would have body hair. He looked quite menacing, which explained why he wore a hawaiian shirt for a top instead of a standard scrub blouse.

Leo found it helpful to fixate on Kenny's peculiarities after having his very intimate personal change all but barked out. "Oh, that's what's in the box?" Installation. Installation. The fox bounced that word around in his head, a completely unsexual way of describing something anything but.

Kenny had been Leo's personal technician for every visit to Davidson's surgical complex and rehabilitation center. He was brusque and deadpan, but easily worked up to a grin. He was also alarming in his black, furless lupine appearance, like perhaps some police dog rendered into a pliable cinder. Kenny was also a double amputee. Both of his legs had been literally shot off, he had said, by 'a psychotic shit with two shotguns'. He was almost twice Leo's age and had undergone multiple operations the likes of which Leo did not have to suffer even in his extreme case.

"I like the paint job. It's so trendy these days, what with all that fur perma-dye stuff ," Kenny said, then wheeled the cart over to the side of the chamber. The cover was a simple black shroud, and it didn't completely reach to the bottom of the contents of the crate that sat on top. The crate was clear, and there was something inside, but the plastic and limited view made clear only that it was black.

"I just thought it would... look nice," Leo said. "I was trying not to overdo it. They warned me about that."

"Speaking about warnings," Kenny said, and turned towards the door. Someone was standing just outside in the hallway. "Looks like the doctor's in." Kenny finished keying something in at the isolator's computer console, then headed for the door. The two exchanged places, black leathery canid replaced by white fur and lab coat.

"Dr. Soren," Leo said and nodded his head after sitting up slightly in the isolator, hiding some anxiety in his voice, trying to sound professional. Anxiety and something more; a swarm of butterflies invaded the fox's stomach.

"Good afternoon, Leo," the doctor said, in an impressive, but almost irritated, fine British voice. It perfectly matched his appearance: Dr. Soren was a tall, albino jackal in a doctor's coat. "This is quite a big day for you, isn't it? The final piece of your puzzle. The final installment, if you will." His voice dripped with patronizing cloy.

Leo tried to grin at the doctor's attempt a pun. The butterflies grew more insistent, and now they were tickling him in a very sensitive, very deep place. Leo's ears turned red inside. The jackal was imposing but wiry, body matching his precise, careful voice, fur an almost impossible platinum, eyes hollow and almost luminescent pink. White exam coat, blue slacks, black shoes. A very handsome doctor. "It's not an appliance," Leo said softly, trying to riff off of the canids' installation banter. He instantly regretted the words, imagining them sounding only ashamed.

Dr. Soren moved in, taking Kenny's place at the programming console. "Of course it isn't. It's far more than a simple tool. Leo, I want you to spread your arms and legs to match up against the outlines on the bed. Like your previous visits, you must unfortunately be immobilized." A patronizing drop in pitch appeared in his voice again, and perhaps a slight smirk across the white jackal's otherwise serious face.

Leo wrinkled his lips up. The worst part. "When I was a kid, people actually touched you in the hospital." His heart rate surged as he adjusted himself to fit his body within the slight glowing outline on the isolator bed. He's going to restrain me, he said inside his head, over and over. The thought was terrifying, as it had been each time he'd received it for all of his other cybernetics. But with Dr. Soren at the controls, it was painfully arousing, like a desperate ache deep inside between his anus and bladder.

"I'm sure you're well aware of how sensitive the first few weeks of a new prosthesis are. We need to minimize contact. I am going to restrain your upper arms and your thighs. You won't be able to sit up again, but let me know if you find anything uncomfortable." Dr. Soren's slender fingers tapped away at the console, ending with a perfunctory snap of a key press. The room lights dimmed and the isolator lights brightened, as did a spotlight over the doctor.

Leo pinned himself back and watched as the chamber lit up on the inside. With the room dim outside, all he saw was a contorted vision of himself reflected from the top of the isolator, only broken up by the ominous black gloves that dangled from their ports. He watched as notched metal rods came up out of several holes in the bed surface, then gyrated like goosenecks, as if they were going to meet together over his shoulders. They curved again and dove down over his biceps, physically pushing down against the fur flat to his skin, then plunged into similar holes and latched with a snap.

The same thing happened down near his thighs, rods coming out from holes between his legs like sort of eruption, twisting, arcing over his upper thighs, and then plunging into holes. The whole machine whirred for a moment, restraint bars lowering until they just pressed against his chest and legs. Two more restraints jolted up from his armpits and wrapped up and then down around just below his biceps.

"I apologize for how ghastly this must always seem. I trust that it is comfortable enough? I have had Kenneth adjust it since your last visit, based on your feedback." The doctor stared in at Leo through the curved plastic, face distorted into a wicked sneer by the curvature, top lit by the spotlight, blue lit from the computer.

"No pinching, nope," Leo said. Why did this have to take so long? He could attach and detach his arms and legs within a minute, for all of them.

"Now Leo, I need to disable your cybernetics. Just as when you received your limbs and tail, this... addition... could cause you to spasm rather harshly." The doctor prodded at the console, again with the swift command snap to begin the process.

Leo had no time to complain; he went to lift a hand, to point, to gesture, to simply twitch, and nothing happened at all. After a few seconds, the vague buzzing paresthesia of disconnected nerves crawled up his thighs, upper arms, and wormed up his spine from his limp foxtail.

Dr. Soren was completely deadpan about doubly restraining Leo. "I find it amusing that Kenneth covered over this sterile crate," Dr. Soren said, and heaved the black shroud up and off its charge. It was still hard to see what was inside, as a metallic part was all that showed. Metallic, and a little black. "There is certainly nothing to be ashamed of."

"Not for you, you're the expert."

"Not for you, either. Looking at that bare interface, Leo, is far less pleasant than your natural nude male body." Dr. Soren took the container and crouched down next to the isolator and started fishing the box underneath one edge.

Every time the jackal spoke Leo's name, the fox's natural body squirmed, and that hot quivering tingle struck him in his prostate. Leo looked over and tried to catch some sort of knowing, awful grin on the jackal's face. When the sterile crate slotted into place, the jackal let out a barely audible sigh and his serious face warmed up with a smile. The isolator then whirred and a door slid open in the bottom, allowing the crate to rise up into view.

Inside of it was a black penis with a circular metal cybernetic interface, the male version of the one between Leo's legs. The organ was almost a little shriveled, uncircumcised and dark, balls furred with charcoal velvet, longer under and guard fur showing right where it met up with the interface. Leo stared at it. It seemed foreign, but recognizable. The last time he had seen his own natural penis, he had been twelve. "I'm not really sure what to say," the fox said, voice soft but full with wonderment.

"A penis, Leo, is a living organ. It is unimpressive and sterile when detached from its host."

You are the creepiest person I have ever met, Leo said in return, inside his head. "Did you really have to turn off my arms? This thing's already holding me down." The buzzing numb mounted, as if his entire forelimbs had become physically blurry like an out of focus photograph, until he felt dizzy. Combined with the embarrassing lust for Dr. Soren's authoritative body, Leo had to let out a sigh.

"Leo, you are going to thank me for leaving you somewhat helpless. Now, let's see if it fits. Don't worry, I won't enable the interface just yet. The only thing you will feel is the connector attachment."

Leo stared as the doctor lifted his hands up, white-furred and bony, then slid them out of sight into the isolator's glove ports. The gloves on the inside filled up with life as the jackal reached in and groped around. Dr. Soren's fingers flexed into a fist one by one, then uncurled again, black rubber reaching to pull and tug at black rubber. Leo stared, eyes desperate and wide.

Then, the doctor's gloved hands reached down into the sterile crate and withdrew the prosthesis. Instead of flopping around like a realistic sex toy, it was physically inert, as if sculpted out of something very firm. Dr. Soren reached up to give the fox a closer look. Leo stared at the black glove rubber, then the bare leathery 'flesh' that made up the phallic simulacrum. "Well, I guess it looks good."

"Very," Dr. Soren said as he fondled the equipment around in his hand, interface held aimed down by two gloved fingers. He dropped it down, then reached with a second hand to hold around the matching interface port on Leo's groin. The two parts fitted together with the suctioned snap Leo had heard so many times before, from a foreleg or an arm. "Much better." Just as the doctor had warned, Leo felt a strange clack that seemed to come up through his organic bones.

Within seconds, the black flesh stirred slightly, inflating just a little, losing its sad and shabby appearance. The movement was accompanied by no sensation at all. "Wow. I guess... you're right." Leo's gorge rose as sheer terror mixed in with the mind-grating sensation of phantom limbs.

"Very, very much better," Dr. Soren said, iridescent pink eyes staring with a far-off longing gaze in through the isolator's clear plastic shell, and he reached out to gently rest a rubber-gloved hand on Leo's thigh. Every tiny fur movement, every insignificant wisp of air, every heartbeat and slight push of blood, sent some sort of sensation coursed through Leo's body and into his systems management unit, then down through an inductive communications coupling into the isolator, where it crawled through the umbilical and up into the computer console for technical dissection. Dr. Soren occasionally flicked his eyes over to the melange of visual feedback on the screen. "Even a little reflexive nerve action already."

Leo felt like he had to itch his groin, but there was nothing to itch. He'd felt it many times before, for years, after they had dug out almost everything that made him male in order to save his life. The sensation was whatever had been left of the regular sexual nerves after the lifesaving but intimately mutilating surgery, being stimulated by heated blood flow and the new weight and presence in the connection port.

"So, uh, are you going to turn it on now?" The red fox asked, after a long silence.

Dr. Soren seemed mesmerized by what he saw on the computer, enough that he withdrew a hand from one of the gloves to prod at the computer. He reinserted his arm, flexed his fingers again, and took gentle hold of Leo's thigh. "Very, very slowly. You should start to feel a slight paresthetic tingle."

Leo did, and the tingle quivered up his spine, made him breathe faster, made his heart lurch and start pounding in his chest. Worry, the rush of awe, and a profoundly sexual feeling that he had only ever had once before the accident. His new cock swelled slightly, then simmered back.

"Ahh, a little reflexive nerve action, indeed! Your new organ is already working with you, Leo. Can you feel it?" Dr. Soren sounded genuinely pleased, although his face quickly melted back into a look that Leo had decided could only be sexual arousal. In the throes of hands-free masturbation, deep in fantasy, Leo had recorded a secret video of himself making exactly that same face.

The tingle had become a sort of a buzz, like an electrical version of radio static. It quickly ramped up to pins and needles, like a waking limb, and then the muscle-wrenching nerve hammer that came sooner as the limb awakened. "Ohh. Unh, Doctor... Doctor Soren, I don't... ahh! AHH!" Leo's upper body tried to lurch upwards, but the strong mechanical restraints kept him pinned flat back. His forearms and feet felt like dead, numb weight, electronically disabled and lifeless like his cock had been until thirty seconds prior.

"Oh," the doctor said, then turned to the computer. "Gertrude, cancel sequence." Both of his hands were in the gloves, and apparently that didn't stop him from working on the cybernetics programming.

The sensation dropped back to only the slightest tingle. The restraints, while alarming, did indeed prevent him from thrashing about. Leo groaned and relaxed, body nudging against the restraint bars. "Is something wrong? Was that supposed to, what happened?" he chuffed. Leo tried to wriggle his tail and found that prosthesis as inert as his arms and legs.

"That was entirely normal. I am afraid that you will have to endure a little more, or rather, for a little longer. It will be a lot more. In fact, you will probably scream. But with that pain will come a very pleasant reward, as you learn to control your own sexual response. If you would like a bite guard, turn your head to the right and look at the light. One will come out for you." The doctor took his hands back to himself, out of the long, black gloves. He kept his hands up for a moment, as if he wanted to reach back out to something. "I suggest it. You would not look as fetching with blood in that soft, white fur of yours."

Leo looked down at his chest, at the broad vulpine cream stripe that ran down to his new groin. He had, always had, a splotch of black where his parts were. He chose the prosthetic color for that reason, even though his natural flesh shade had been a common pinkish red. Now, there was something there, something that was going to hurt terribly, but might make him feel normal. Whole. Able.

Blood? Blood? He remembered where he was and looked right, stared at the light until a chime came, and waited as a small rod pushed a sports bite guard into his muzzle. That should be a bit, he said to himself. A horse's bit. The thought hit him like a physical hit to the head. He lazily bit down on it, almost dropping it when the mechanized assistant let go and he wasn't ready.

Dr. Soren was slow at getting started again, adjusting something manually at the computer. Leo, devoid of the strange, frightening stimulation, quickly grew bored as the endorphin rush faded. "Yahwr commuurhsh name esh Gerrrudhe?"

"Gertrude is not a very common woman's name, so there is never confusion over to whom is talking to whom."

Leo shrugged against the restraints. "Ahm ruddhy."

"Are you? I do not exaggerate when I say that you will probably scream." Instead of talking at the computer, Dr. Soren keyed something back in. He left his hands out to himself.

The sensation returned, amping up from a tingle to a prickle to the heavy thrum that went right into every nerve in his body, into his bones, into his skull. It didn't stop at pain, and he screamed, arched out into the restraints, terrific vulpine wail ricocheting off and back into his face. Was that Doctor Soren's face? Was he sneering? Was he unhappy? Was he happy?

The horrific terror pain pulled back, the sensation turning from urgent to chronic to irritating, then dying away completely to a hypersensitive tingle. Leo's gut crawled for a few moments, until he realized that it was actually the sensation of his scrotum tensing and releasing his faux testicles. Leo's face slackened into an awe-filled O, muzzle open until the bite guard simply fell off onto his neck, then onto the isolator's bed padding. Before his eyes, not only were his balls subtly moving, but his new shaft grew erect until the very tip of his penis began to peek from the soft leathery foreskin.

"Very good, Leo," Dr. Soren said, and reached back into the black rubber gloves. He reached for Leo's head and stroked the fox's forehead, brushing one ear down. Leo calmed down from the gentle physical affection, then grew sturdily aroused as Dr. Soren's hand gently spread out. "Now, we need to run a few tests. Or rather, I need to calibrate you."

Leo was in a hospital, a private, for-profit technical hospital, the state of the art showcase of cybernetic prosthetics, lying in a giant 'glove box', with an intimidating and stuck-up doctor's anonymized, black hands groping around the cock that they had just installed on him. Leo's skin crawled, literally rippling his fur, twitching his ears, shifting him until he bumped against the restraints, soft grunt from between his teeth.

"Would you like to be more comfortable? You may find having your knees raised to be pleasant," Dr. Soren said.

Leo imagined being restrained but with his knees lifted, almost as if he were sitting on a chair but lying on his back. A hard tremor ran through his abdomen and culminated in a firm twitch to his new cock. "Okay."

The isolator bed's mattress pad was modular, able to be moved around in all manner of positions, piece by piece. The doctor worked at his computer for a moment, then fed his hands back into the long gloves. Every time he did it, the jackal's face took on a look of concentration and then satisfaction as his fingers slid out into each black receptacle.

Dr. Soren separated the latches for the bed sections, and then gently started to pull one up. Leo was able to flex his actual thigh at his hip, and unsteadily helped the doctor move him into a spread, lifted posture. It felt pointedly humiliating, but Leo channeled that sensation into his arousal as his entire world was so thoroughly constrained by the isolator.

Once Leo's knees were up, the fox trembled, feeling more exposed, being more exposed, and only slightly more comfortable. He lifted his head, tension knotting up inside his neck, chest, and down into each useless limb. His hands and feet were mannequin pieces that just so happened to sprout from a living torso. His living torso was pinned against a passably comfortable bed by robotic restraints. Everything was inside of a box, isolated from the real world. Inside, there was only machinery and Leo, and now the line blurred between the two.

Outside, there was only Dr. Soren. "Now Leo, you may have heard me go on about reflexive nervous activation, if you can remember much of the first few days after your interface surgery. When something touches your body in certain ways, your nervous system - sometimes your brain, and sometimes only your spinal column - will trigger an immediate motor response or more advanced sympathetic nervous system response. For example," the doctor said, resting one gloved hand up at the fox's closest shoulder, "You already noticed that the comfort breeze in the isolator made the testicles on your new organ shift around."

New Organ. New Organ. It's not A New Organ, it's a cock! It's a penis! It's my penis! Leo was now on the crest of the front wave of science and all he could focus on was how Dr. Soren sounded so harmlessly stuffy that his imposing male figure was only that more accessible. "Are you going to bang on my knee with something?"

"No, and not your testicles, either. That would be very rude. Your new organ is a sexual organ, Leo. It needs to exhibit the appropriate reflexive response to physical stimulation. Otherwise, it might as well be a sculpture." Dr. Soren kept one black, shiny hand on Leo's shoulder, the way that a father would grasp at his son while delivering a dose of advice.. He took the other hand, curled the fingers as if around an imaginary ball, and reached for the fox's chest.

Leo could only stare as that rubber-sheathed hand dipped fingers down against his creamy chest fur and slid them down towards his navel. The act was mostly innocent yet so intimate, and it triggered a powerful quiver down the fox's spine. It stiffened his nipples, made him desperately want to curl his paralyzed tail, and as the doctor's alarmingly tender touch traveled towards Leo's 'new organ', gave him a thrill that spawned another surge of erection.

"Quite nice, a very strong autonomic response, sympathetic nervous stimulation that leads to referred sexual stimulation, that leads to an erection, that leads back to more referred sexual stimulation!" Dr. Soren kept an eye on the computer console while he repeated the gesture, over and over again, until Leo panted and relaxed his head against the isolator bed. No one had ever, ever touched him like that before, and the sheer pleasure that now exploded forth seemingly from inside his new cock left him mesmerized.

The instinctual canid tingle from a 'bellyrub' was just too much to resist. He groaned and closed his eyes, warm tingle spreading across his groin. Where there had been only a hint of sensation before, from the bit of urethra left in the sunken pit that he called his 'caldera' (he had named it during a fit of compulsive documentary watching), there was Pleasure. "Is... can I do this myself, somehow? Peeing is one thing, but, I mean, I can... I can c... I can cum, Dr. Soren. I've done it a million times. I've used... I use a toy."

"You haven't done it with a penis, Leo, at least I assume so. You were quite young when you had your accident."

That changed Leo's state of mind by sending him hurtling back in time. He was helpless again, in his mind, the isolator plastic now turned into the inside of a passenger train car and the jumbled mess of memories washed over him again.

"I could make you ejaculate, but that would not test anything except that there was no accidental blockage," Dr. Soren continued to say, holding onto one of Leo's thighs and one of his arms, with each hand. He gently massaged the fox as Leo's mind reeled-

-confusion, endless confusion, smoke and everything tilted strange, horrifying smells, some pain but only aches, then freedom, pushed out into the cold February, looking down at a huge pool of water, someone swimming in it, struggling in it, drowning in it-

"This is not just fluid mechanics, Leo, this is a test of your ability to perform, a test of your new organ's ability to perform, to work with your body, to work with you, to work for you. If that sounds imposing, I apologize, but if I had the computer bring you to a climax it would only test the internal functioning. You are almost a man, an adult male vulpine hybrid, once ruined, now complete with everything that he was born with, every part, every capability, every desire and every outlet." Dr. Soren sounded so passionate, both in what he said, and the lustful, pleading way he said-

-so cold, so wet, so awful, soaking into fabric city shoes and wool slacks and wool overcoat and woolen gloves as he waded and reached and grabbed, and the person wasn't screaming anymore, and then little Leo felt a wave of heat flash up to his face, and he jumped from the wetness and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran for five whole city blocks until he tripped and fell into a puddle and collapsed in shock and no one found him for almost an hour because they had all gone to see the horrific derailment that had plunged a passenger car clean through a freight tank of pure ethanol that burned with a colorless transparent flame, had burned him, had burned him and left him to die.

Leo inhaled and shivered. Dr. Soren was still holding onto him, one gloved hand felt on a thigh, the other not felt but seen on his disabled forearm. "I'm sorry, did you say something? I kind of remembered It." Leo capitalized the last word aloud, speaking it like something that he dared not name.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Soren said, reaching up to pet at Leo's forehead again. This time, there was no lustful need. He simply stroked the fur back and around Leo's black ear, over and over again.

Leo pushed his horrific memory away and came back to the isolator and his task at hand. At Dr. Soren's hand. "So, you have to do it."

"Your new organ, Leo, must be calibrated."

And I have to be strapped down, and immobilized, and inside a tank, and you have to wear those gloves, and I have to be a good fox or else I'll be getting masturbated by my genital cyberneticist for nothing. Leo felt as if he had gone beyond all other experiences of his life, and for a second, even out of his body. Then he returned back to the close, tingling present. He tried to speak but only sputtered.

"Would you be more comfortable with someone else? I can have a female technician come in and assist while I observe-"

Leo shook his head, jarred out of the dizzying realization. "No, haha, that'd be worse. I don't, uh, I don't really like girls."

"As you felt moments before, overstimulation can be mind-altering. I do not want to upset you, I do not want you to hurt yourself thrashing about inside of there, but I do want to help you. I want to help you experience full pleasure for the first time."

Help me, Leo whined to himself. Hearing Dr. Soren admit his motives left Leo so far beyond the pale that he could only steady himself. "Okay." He had to go along with it, though, had to go along with everything, because the hospital knew more about what he needed than he did, because he'd paid them an exorbitant amount of money to be able to play fox with all four limbs and a bushy tail. A fox now complete with a penis.

"You are a fine fox, Leo. Very fine," Dr. Soren said, and brushed the vulpine's chest to groin again, up and down, up and down, fingers gently passing the navel with just a little tease. "The color looks wonderful against this patch you have here," the jackal said, white form hovering like a ghost outside of the isolator's plastic, arms penetrating into Leo's world in their shining ebony gloves, one holding his thigh, the other teasing the fox to a soft whimper and a full seven inch erection. "Very natural, but a little unusual, exotic, not quite the place for a black splotch on a fox, a fine conversation piece. I doubt you will have that much conversation about it, though. Perhaps other attention."

The first real, sexual touch to his engorged cock was not nearly as exciting as Leo thought it would be. Maybe his memories were still floating around in the back of his mind, or it was the restraints, or the isolator, or the electronically-induced paralysis, or Dr. Soren's frightening attitude. He felt the warm rubber graze over his cockflesh, then gently curl around it and start to stroke the foreskin up and down. Leo found the sensations less foreign if he watched, brain already starting to re-associate sensations with a part that had been missing for years.

"If you would like something else to watch, I can arrange to have a video played on the monitor, although you may have to use a mouth-stick to choose unless you want to dictate your inner desires to my computer," Dr. Soren said, voice now considerably softer, down in that husky, intimate voice with the breath crackled up by the intercom. "If you would like me to dim the lights, or even provide you with a blindfold-"

"Blindfold?"

"Some men like to watch, while others like to be in the dark, and even others, blinded completely," Dr. Soren said, still gently milking at Leo's black flesh.

The talk of a blindfold startled Leo, because he had always wanted to try one. Leo had spent years without the ability to do anything detailed with fingers, because he didn't have any. Fingers were not required for learning, and Leo had become fascinated by the things that he couldn't easily do. Gardening. Playing piano. And sex. With only hands-free prostate massage to physically satisfy himself, Leo let his mind roam the possibilities of sex, and the possibilities always became more and more kinky and fetishistic and always forbidden lest someone take advantage of him.

Fetishistic, but not exactly a blindfold. Something to blind him but perhaps leave him focused on certain things that he could still see. Something very kinky and very fetishistic.

Dr. Soren stopped milking and simply petted at the underside of Leo's new cock, up where the loose flesh and cockhead formed a V. That felt immensely better. "I think I'll just use my imagination," Leo sighed, and rolled his head to the side, to look as far away from the jackal as possible.

His imagination served up not a blindfold across the eyes, but blinders, like on a horse's bridle. Like on a horse. Horse.

In his mind, Leo was on a horse. Bareback, atop a chestnut and cream paint, little brown-gloved hands clutching onto the mane as his black and red booted feet clung without stirrups to the side of the animal's abdomen.

"You can pull there a bit if you want, but you're gonna have to pull his reins if you really want to stop or turn," a deep voice said. The horse man, as Leo liked to call him, although his name was John and he was a black bear. "A horse is an animal, a living thing, and you are not just driving it around like a car, Francis. You're not controlling this horse under you, you are working with him to go somewhere you want and he is agreeing to take you. Bareback's gonna settle that in your head. Now you're gonna take the course, and you better be up to a canter by the time you get to Sandy's checkpoint or you're gonna make the next rider wait." John had a tough attitude and a beer gut, but he was an affable bear and a good break from the somewhat stifled life that Francis Leonard Cutler, Jr. had with his parents.

"Okay," Leo had said, and then he was off. Instead of saddled in English field tack, his boots were against a real, live animal. Every squirm the horse made, he felt. He leaned forward as he picked the stud up to a trot, then the required canter. The sensation of a horse's body shifting and moving under him so close to his fur and skin left Leo increasingly stimulated.

The course was old hat, this being his tenth lesson, but he felt somehow more free without the saddle separating horse from fox hybrid. Even more, leaning forward, young Leo felt a surprising thrill as he rocked from the riding motion, groin pressed up against the horse's back. It felt Good, despite the winter cold and the splatter of snowy mud that the horse kicked up. So good. Leo managed to send his horse into a full gallop and raced through the checkpoint, completely the entire course with disregard to anyone else's instruction or attempts to make him stop. Without understanding what he was feeling, Leo's equestrian rebellion propelled him to a dry, tingling orgasm that made him yelp freely into the cold winter air.

The next fantasy came again from a memory, a very slightly newer one from a night one week before the accident. In bed, unable to sleep, Leo straddled onto his pillow and made like it was a horse. He leaned forward, desperate to feel the same tingle on his cock. The pillow was a poor substitute, so he slid his hand down into his pajamas. He stopped imagining that he was riding a horse, and suddenly thought he might like to be one, bridled and saddled and ridden, cock free to dangle down between his legs and pee, pee everywhere, pee with equine pride. Leo was not old enough to understand that a penis was for more than simply urinating, and had only seen horse penises when they dropped to pour urine into the mud. Leo rubbed and rubbed and felt more and more of a tickle, like he was going to sneeze, but he never did. It was never quite like when he was on horseback that time, but it was almost, and he wanted to try again.

One week later, Leo had been lost in thought and stiff in his pants as he and his mother went into town on the train, imagining all sorts of fantastically absurd ways that being a horse would somehow make him tingle again. Then the train had derailed, and that ended any of the fox's equine aspirations for years.

"I see your cowper's gland is hard at work," Dr. Soren said, breaking Leo's concentration. The fox looked down and his new black dickhead was plump, exposed and covered again and again by those pulling, stroking, kneading rubbered fingers. Clear precum drooled out and Dr. Soren teased at it, spread it around the rim of the flesh, and then gently grabbed behind it, working his fingers in a black ring up and down past the thickest part of the crown.

Leo almost cried, muzzle agape, face twisted to push his eyebrows up, whiskers back. "Oh god," he mumbled. "I don't think... I can... finish it like this, but it's not bad, I've just never done it, I don't know..."

"That, Leo, is what calibration is for. While you lie there, pleasured, the computer is working with me to make sure you get the most sensation with the least overstimulation."

The fox felt less humiliated only because he was so profoundly aroused. "Maybe, you could, like I would do.. like I used to do?" he mumbled, head turning side to side, looking at his reflection in the plastic. Several years earlier, upon the first consultations with Dr. Soren in preparation for this inevitable day, he had explained that he could masturbate by way of prostate massage using a specially curved toy, all by himself, without even having hands or feet to grab onto anything. He had used his crude prosthetics to place the toy in a crevice on his bedroom sofa, then would squat over it and writhe about until he came. "I know you said you have to c-calibrate my actual penis but I still have to, have to finish, right? I don't want to screw something up."

"We will see." Dr. Soren let go of Leo's thigh and reached down into the sterile crate, then retrieved a tube of something: "Surgilube - Sterile Surgical Lubricant and Bacteriostat". He let go of Leo's 'new organ' and transferred the tube to his other hand, then squeezed a long ribbon of clear gel out onto his fingers, like pasting a toothbrush. Then he rubbed his fingers together, and reached to stroke Leo's new 'flesh'.

Leo expected a sudden, unpleasant clinical penetration, like he'd received from numerous prostate exams. Instead, Dr. Soren simply felt at his anus. The first touch made the fox's cock twitch, and the stroke turned into a gentle massage. The doctor pressed in just slightly, not penetrating but rubbing, working, and Leo felt the familiar warm Body Pleasure start welling up. The doctor's other black-gloved hand started pulling at the equally inky shaft, and Leo moaned outright into his plastic enclosure.

The fox had never felt anything like it, not even the most piquant penetrated orgasms he had managed back even before his limbs were added. No acrobatic twisting, careful muscle tension, pillows or couch cushions nudged around just like so, to sit down on the massager and then work it until empty, then push it back out.

Now he was physically restrained, whole in body if only mostly functional, paused limbs keeping him trapped as much as the restraint bars. He was not working his body in spite of its handicaps; someone else was reaching into his world and working him.

Another memory flashed into Leo's mind,a video he had seen, of animal husbandry, of a deep black stallion lashing his tail as if to swat at flies, unevenly lubed chemical gloves - just like Dr. Soren's - holding and pumping at the stud's cock while another whole fist pushed into its anus and ground down against the gland inside. Despite the ferociously racy content, it was a documentary on advances in semen extraction from various animals, produced as a commercial sales video for a veterinary supply company. Leo had watched it many times and imaged that he was the stallion, shortened and ungrasping limbs standing in for the inarticulate hooves of a true horse, held in place for a breeding quality exam by heavy straps, worked, fondled, milked by increasingly technological means as the video reenactment moved forward towards the present.

Now, he was that helpless male animal, gloved hands drawing spunk out of him for a sample. Dr. Soren's finger glided in and out, teasing at the ring as much as reaching up inside, finger curving to almost the right spot, almost, almost, almost, fucking almost! The doctor even drew the single slick digit out and replaced it with two, working and stroking at the fox's exposed, heated pucker, then hooking inside, still just almost. Leo cracked his mouth into a near sobbing frown and yelped, then tucked his chin to his chest. He mumbled and tried to nudge his hips up, restraint bars across the joints keeping him firmly in place.

Leo pleaded and looked up, while Dr. Soren looked down and made eye contact, face distorted through the isolator's plastic canopy. "Leo, you like that very much, don't you?" the doctor said, voice rich, slightly urgent. The jackal's gloved hands tightened and pulled just at Leo's crown again, fingertips even reaching around to grind and bump back and forth across the intensely sensitive frenulum. Inside, he reached fully up and forward, two fingers crushing up against the fox's prostate.

[Author's note: I'm not really sure how to really address the fact that Dr. Soren said a prostate massage would not be useful - or even something weirder and more clinical like having the computer just force Leo to ejaculate, which is technically possible in this case - but that he ends up doing it anyway. For one, Leo actually asks for it. For two, I'm really leery of making this seem too non-consensual.]

Leo's mind reeled. This is not what an examination feels like, not an examination! The shock was followed by a much better thought: This is awesome.

Orgasm hurt, a sudden hot spike of burning straight down the center of his cock, but then... it exploded out of him, as if he were actually emitting sparks, creamy gland-milked spunk blasting up and splashing against the top inside of the bed tube, dripping down to splash along one of Leo's vulpine muzzle tear-marks. The fox cried out, the laughing bark of someone being bashed in the funny-bone, and that's what it felt like. Only instead of just firing through his upper body like an electric shock, it raced up his spine to his head, then bounced back down and exploded out into a geyser of cream that left seven streaks of semen from groin to neck.

Leo had imagined, before Dr. Soren had truly started to massage him, that he was going to feel a terrifying inward crush of horror once he came down from his climax. After all, he was lying with disabled cybernetic arms, strapped into an isolator bed like a plague victim, probed in from outside and milked as if undergoing abduction by an alien incubus. But once he had exploded into perfectly-calibrated orgasm, he melted back against the bed with such heavy waves of afterglow that he would occasionally twitch and sputter and not once felt particularly upset.

Dr. Soren took out some fur wipes and non-water cleaner and made short work of the mess all over the blissed fox. Then, a little conditioner, and a slow, still-gloved brushing. "According to the report here, you passed with flying colors," Dr. Soren said. "Of course, only you can truly be the judge of that."

Leo smiled like an idiot.

---

After orgasm, Leo experienced the world through a pulsating amber glow. As Dr. Soren had cleaned and brushed and finally simply petted him, the fox felt a profound warmth spread all throughout his body. He felt safe; Dr. Soren, even if he had ulterior motives, knew what he was doing and how to do it with perfect clinical effectiveness. He also felt a bit of giddy filth, as of course having a doctor masturbate him was such an awful thing. He had seen porn films set up to be doctor's office encounters, and Leo had always found them somewhat ridiculous and shallowly disgusting.

As the warmth faded, the fox realized he had actually had one of those encounters, and it had not been ridiculous. It had been terrifying and pleasurable and simply Other.

As Dr. Soren reversed the paralysis and then the physical restraints, Leo began to come back to his senses. The strange, lustfully clinical jackal had not even touched him with his bare hands. Leo realized that, just as he had entered the room and the isolator naked and alone, he would have to exit it the same way.

"Dr. Soren?" Leo said, interrupting the doctor's final report and diagnostics. He almost sat up inside the isolator, catching himself just a half inch from bashing into the clear tubular dome.

The white jackal looked his way, with those pupil-less pink eyes. "Yes, Leo?"

The name, over and over, always the name. The fox felt his pulse quicken again, another stir between his legs. The doctor paused what he was doing entirely and slowly turned, then came over to the glass. The closer he got, the less distorted he looked. He placed a hand on the plastic as the long manipulation gloves hung limp by the plastic sides. "I think I know what you mean about being complete. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Leo." The doctor spoke quietly, voice barely a light growl over a whisper. "Kenny will be back in to take care of all the technical instructions you will need. I could give them to you, but I fear my pattering English accent would simply lull you to blissful sleep."

And that was goodbye. The jackal turned and left the room, pausing just at the edge of the door to adjust whatever it was that doctors used to indicate that an exam room was cleared for the next step. He looked back to Leo in the isolator, then left.

Kenny came in and took up the jackal's position at the computer console. The doctor's professional precision gave way to the Shenaus' considerably coarser ways of working. Still actually precise and correct, but with aloof masculine flippancy. "Just think, now you have tuneups to look forward to. Oil change, coolant flush and fill, and - my favorite - getting your tires rotated. Ever wonder how monkeys feel when they walk on their hands?"

Leo found it best to listen to Kenny on a different mental wavelength, not a professional but a chatty friend trying to soften the blow. He let the black canine's words simply wash over him, imparting whatever knowl- "Are you crazy?" The fox blurted out as he realized what the medical assistant had just said. Whenever Kenny was bullshitting, he made sure not to make eye contact. "What does that even mean?"

"I could tell you all about how you should handle your new dick, and by the way you missed a spot, but really you can go through the manual yourself. Revel in the wonderful tactile interface of swiping your fingers - your actual fingers! - on a fucking tablet computer. I heard you say something earlier about how you remember when actual people actually touched you at the hospital. They used to have actual paper, too!" Type, type, type. The Shenaus did something on the computer and the isolator latches popped open.

"Wait a minute, I told that to Dr. Soren! Were you listening? Was there some kind of camera? Are you serious? There was a camera! I know it!" Leo felt both a sense of real desperate claustrophobic panic, and also a sense of giddy excitement. "You saw everything!"

Kenny laughed. "I could hear you from the other room. Don't worry, I left before you started barking."

"That's so rude," Leo groaned. "I should be offended."

"But you're not, because now you have a penis and you can shoot off whenever you want, as long as you don't use cheap silicone lube and don't work so hard that you overheat it and you don't do any of that hardcore stuff where you smack it with things. Don't do that. I'll see you out in the reception area to help you get set up with your key gloves and everything." Kenny stepped over to the isolator, cleared his throat, and tapped at the plastic.

"Cool, later," Leo said, and felt casually awkward as he simply didn't know how to say goodbye like that. At least he had the chance. He wanted to say goodbye to Dr. Soren, but he probably wouldn't see him. The doctor was busy and important. He wanted to say goodbye and hold the doctor's hand and nuzzle against his slender but strong face and tell him how he felt, and how he felt, was that he felt crazy and sad and just wanted to touch him again and maybe that was love and maybe that was falling in love and maybe-

Leo grew a hard erection again, so soon after his first, very copiously powerful complete orgasm. He could come again. But would it feel like when the doctor had played with him? A flashback, all the feelings over again, the sight of glistening black rubber and straining computerized synthetic flesh and memories and the lustful sigh that Dr. Soren had let out as Leo spurted all over the inside of the isolator-

As he stared up at the ceiling through the isolator's warping plastic, something dripped down onto his nose. It smelled like musk and salt and chlorine. Semen. Dr. Soren had done a good job of cleaning him up, and he'd done his own job wiping up the inside of the isolator, but he'd missed a wet spot. Kenny tapping on the plastic, grinning. Leo flushed as he realized what had happened.

The fox sat up carefully and licked the spot clean, then nuzzled it to buff the smudge away. Then he opened up the isolator and climbed out into the pleasantly warm room. A light came on by the door and the computer assistant voice came on. "Please exit the room now. Your clothes and paperwork will be in the private waiting area outside. Once you are dressed, come to the reception area to check out."

Leo left the isolator behind and entered the private changing foyer. There was the requisite procedure documentation to sign off on, including a statement that his insurance and medical trust would be billed for the procedure. He didn't look at the price, partly because he knew it already and partly because he didn't want to think about it. His clothes lay in a pile, neatly folded, with a small letterhead note paper stuck on top. "If you have any problems, please do not hesitate to call," and then a doctor's scribble of a signature. The letterhead was from Dr. Angelo Soren, M.D, Ph.D, M.S.

Leo tucked the note into his pants pocket and forgot about it for almost two weeks.

--

Dr. Soren's consultation office matched the overall design of the isolator procedure room: pleasant interior design, placid electronic pictures of soothing vistas. In the jackal's specific case, they were all photographs he had taken during trips to Bermuda to visit his family. Unlike the isolator room, there was only a hint of medical equipment, a section with an examination table and movable illuminator light, biohazard bins and a sink cabinet. Even the exam table was pleasant, like a modernist chaise lifted up off the floor, padded with black vinyl.

"Do I have to wear one of those gowns? They always feel stupid. They fall off all the time, I mean, it was worse with no arms, but...," Leo said. Now he was nervous enough that his erection faded, and that gave him only the slightest relief. He started taking his belt off, with a brief moment of 'with my fingers!' amazement before his anxiety came back and he fumbled.

Dr. Soren smiled. "You certainly have to remove your clothing. I'm afraid I'll need to perform a manual exam, and that's quite hard with pants in the way." The jackal wore his Davidson doctor's coat, a pair of navy straight-front slacks, and black dress shoes. "I suppose you could simply take off your clothes. Once you go through medical school anatomy instruction, a stranger's nude body is hardly alarming."

And I'm hardly a stranger, the fox thought. Leo took off his shirt and pants, then plied at his underwear. "Okay. Okay sure," he repeated, and scooted his boxer briefs down. His black cock and velvet-furred balls dangled between his legs; the orbs even shrank up with the draft, which made him flick his tail. The stimulation pumped his cock back up to an uncomfortable erection.. He would have been embarrassed if it wasn't for the clutching ache that felt like he'd been kicked in the stones and radiated up into his lower back. Something was wrong, wrong enough that he'd come back to see Dr. Soren for an emergency evening appointment. That had to be it.

The jackal prodded away at his tablet computer with thin, white fingers, and a wireframe of Leo's body appeared up on the large room screen. One by one, the fox's cybernetic prosthetics and interface hardware appeared with green-checkmark diagnostic information. Leo watched, always impressed at how his electronic state could be explained so quickly and easily compared to the rest of him, now also titillated that the officious and ghostly jackal could so easily manipulate the virtual avatar with his fingers.

Dr. Soren pulled on a pair of blue nitrile examination gloves; Leo stared at the jackal's platinum blond hands as they disappeared into the blue material. "Since there's nothing outwardly malfunctioning, let me first see if you are having some neuropathic pain. It's rather common, as I'm sure you've had with your tail. Pardon my hands," the jackal said, and as Leo sat, came over and gently cupped the fox's equipment.

"Uh, uh hey, wow!" The fox yelped; Dr. Soren had cold hands. Cold, gloved hands. Blue, not black, this time. Leo remembered two weeks earlier, when they had been clad in black rubber instead.

"Does that hurt, or are you simply startled? Cold hands are a requirement for all doctors. We're graded on them during our internships, you know," Dr. Soren prattled, as he gently massaged Leo's actual fur and flesh, the interface joint's firm outline, and the bare faux flesh at the root of his unnatural organ.

Leo shook his head. "It's just cold, that doesn't feel like much of anything, when you touch the uh, the ridge part around the joint. It's... it hurts inside. I think it might be my prostate. I had an infection there once, way back when I had the second accident."

"Mmmh," Dr. Soren said, then set his tablet down. He opened one of the sink drawers. "I'm afraid I must be a little more invasive. It's possible you have reflex prostatitis. That's also rather common and mostly harmless, although, have you been cleaning yourself following the owner's guide?"

The fox nodded. "Yeah. I haven't really done anything dirty... with it..."

"Now, you can lie on your side, or you can lean forward over the table. In either case, please lift your tail. I assure you, this will be cold as well. Brace yourself," Dr. Soren said, and squeezed medical-grade lubricant out onto one of his gloved fingers.

Leo chose the latter position and took it to the next level. He climbed up onto the exam table, folded his arms, and hunkered forward with his feet dangling off the edge. "Is this okay?"

"Certainly enthusiastic," the doctor quipped, then gently held Leo's tail out of the way. "I apologize but the music system in the room isn't working, or I would queue up some smooth jazz or new age. Here we are," he said, and gently probed a finger up into Leo's tailhole. The fox whimpered and squeezed down, and the ache intensified until he let out a soft groan. "Does this hurt more?" The jackal prodded his finger directly into Leo's prostate.

"Not really more, but that's, that's where it hurts." Leo flattened his ears as his cock swelled up enough that it almost ached as well. He looked over his shoulder and gave Dr. Soren puppy eyes. "Maybe. It kind of hurts like I got kicked, but when you do that, it doesn't... it feels like I have to pee, but it's not bad. Not at all. Really."

"Leo, when was the last time you achieved orgasm?"

The fox sputtered. Inside: Do you have to say it that way? Outside: "Uh, maybe two weeks ago, when... when you, when we were doing that... calibration thing."

"I see. Are you often aroused?" Dr. Soren did not stop 'examining' Leo. He continued nudging forward at the fox's gland, then slid his finger out and uttered another casual hmm.

"I guess," Leo sputtered again. Then, he took a deep breath, and verbalized the real reason he was in the doctor's office: "Please don't stop."

Dr. Soren gently touched Leo's asshole and the fox's tail jerked. He stroked the ring, then pressed two fingers inside. Leo whimpered but pulled his spine down and shoved backwards. Both fingers went where one had been before, directly into his sensitive gland. "I see," the jackal said, and started to rock his fingers side to side, as if enlarging a dent in putty.

Leo rolled his eyes back and aimlessly felt around the padding in front of him. He rested his muzzle down on the exam cushion, jaw slipping open as the sensation built and ebbed, built and ebbed. Then, Dr. Soren's finger stopped. "Mmmh?"

The jackal reached over and touched at his tablet. The display screen on the wall turned off, and so did most of the room lights, leaving only the under-cabinet ones by the sanitary sink. "There, that's better. No need to have all of that stuff on. I hardly think you're ill, Leo."

Please touch my dick. Please touch my dick. Please touch my dick, Leo repeated in his head, thinking hard enough that he squeezed his eyes shut. Then he snapped them open, wondering if he'd just opened his mouth for real. Instead of touching Leo's dick, the doctor instead reached underneath the fox's chest and gently stroked the bare fur with the back of his blue knuckles. Leo whimpered and shifted his knees. The doctor slid his fingers lower, and the touch made Leo's abs wrinkle and flex, and brought an urgent huff out of the fox's mouth. Finally, the faint texture of the blue exam gloves glided over Leo's new cock.

The fox had no time to engage in dizzying historical fantasies. For two weeks, he had squirmed in bed until the sheets were damp with precum, all while thinking about Dr. Soren's gloved hands exploring his body, inside and out, while their owner plied him with syrupy, patronizing science documentary narration. The real thing was considerably different. Like the time spent in the isolator, the situation ran one step beyond what Leo was prepared for, and his sex drive was one step beyond that. Like so many times before with a toy up his ass, the internal pressure grew too great and he started to helplessly ejaculate. Unlike every single one of those times, someone's measured and practiced milking hand was now wrapped around his straining, slippery cock.

Leo crushed his muzzle against the exam table pad, then splayed his black hands over top of it, fingers twitching slightly as his nerves instructed computers to tense up their electronic muscles. Even with the combined effort of flesh and synthetics, a wailing groan streamed out of his voicebox into his muffled snout, he squeezed his eyes shut, lashed his tail, and suffered an orgasm just an inch away from pain.

Dr. Soren picked the perfect moment to withdraw his fingers, prompting Leo's muscles to tense up and force a last, sticky drool out of his already sagging organ. The doctor stepped away to skin his gloves off into the trash can. One of them made a wet slap against the plastic. Then he returned and stroked Leo's shoulders.

The fox felt profoundly empty and calm, like he had been sitting in a room with a hundred buzzing and whirring fans and radios and noise from outside, and everything had suddenly just stopped. Even the prickling embarrassment of climaxing in a doctor's office was tucked away by the sheer euphoric relief. He lifted up into the petting, which was soon gone as the doctor moved away. Underneath him, semen streaked the vinyl pad, thick creamy jets that painted a fan from left to right. "Can I have a towel?"

"Of course," Dr. Soren said, and handed Leo something better - a box of sanitary wipes.

Leo cleaned up, then climbed off the exam table, muscles trembling with soreness. He tossed the wipes away, inhaled, then let out a big sigh. "Uhh. Well, I feel better," he said, ears lowered. "I really mean it. I guess that was it. I'm just a horny freak."

The jackal leaned on the exam table, half sitting, and crossed his bony white hands in front of his lap. The pose was clinically intimate, and did much to temper his unearthly eyes. "You are certainly not a freak. You're a young man with a fully functional sex drive. I presume that was more satisfying than you are used to..." Dr. Soren trailed off.

Leo nodded, then absently paced around the room. Dr. Soren leaned forward and touched his shoulder. The fox froze. "Hm?"

The doctor then took Leo's hand and held it. Just like earlier, his hands were annoyingly cold. "Leo, I can't do this for you."

The fox started to heat up, and his throat choked off anything he might have accidentally blurted out, words like, "But you just did," and "you started it!". He said nothing.

Dr. Soren continued. " What do you think of me? Please be honest." The room lights were still dim, but the jackal finally let go of Leo and stood back.

"Your eyes are scary but you're handsome," Leo said, deflating from a big, deep breath as he spoke. "And I... I like how you touch me." Admitting it made him feel like he was about to cry until the words actually came out.

"You have to explore your body, Leo. You can't be afraid of it. Much of this technology was designed as part of military contracts. It is far hardier than you might expect. Mind you, the military isn't very interested in cybernetic genitalia... regardless, if you are afraid to touch yourself, or anyone else, don't be. The only way to conquer fear is by doing." Then, the jackal's ghostly face turned up into a smile laden with perfect white teeth. "Do I sound sufficiently like a self-help podcast?"

Leo kept his ears wilted. "I feel kind of dumb. Coming here. Wasting your time-"

Dr. Soren grabbed him by both shoulders. "You are a sexual young man, Leo. You need to catch up. You have all the time in the world for it, and there are ten billion other people out there. I know all too well how painful unrequited feelings are, but it is not my place to satisfy your intimate needs. It is only my place to enable you to satisfy them as you were intended to."

The emotional appeal left Leo feeling stunned and confused, but the intellectual appeal worked better. His ears slowly lifted up and his tail uncurled. "I guess that makes sense."

"You were right in coming here. You could very well have been ill. If you ever have any concerns, about your new organ or really about anything, please don't hesitate to contact me or anyone else here at Davidson. Okay?" Dr. Soren's soft, urgent voice was all too convincing.

Leo nodded. "Sure. Okay."

The doctor picked up his tablet and tapped at it, and the room seemed to reboot back to light, startup messages flickering across the main display panel, a few faint whirrs and clicks from somewhere else. Even the exam bed twitched. "I've made an appointment for six months from now, for a followup. To work out any software or interface issues, address any wear complaints, and I'm sure Davidson will want you to speak with a customer relations representative for a survey." Dr. Soren added the last part with what would have been an eye-roll that knew bureaucracy - if his eyes looked like they could roll.

"Thanks for... helping," Leo said, again feeling the heat of embarrassment wilt his ears like a summer flower. Then he got up to leave, complete but a little empty.