Moose Mountain

A/N: This story is about anthropomorphic animals or furries. All characters have both animal and human traits. If that is not your vibe you have been warned.

The best place in Raidal to look for a quick and dirty hook-up was the Glacier-- a tiny gay bar on the east end of the city. With no other weekend plans, that was Jack's destination on a Friday night in October.

Jack had grown tired of the dating apps he tried. He found little fun in chatting up guys for five days at a time just to get some dick. It took too long with dating apps, and if he went to the seedier ones, half the men there spoke like bots and ghosted him in minutes.

He preferred a face-to-face stranger, with no names or real-life information shared between them. Nothing but hot and heavy sex in a bathroom or back alley. The Glacier was somewhere he could find that.

It was almost 10:00 PM according to the alarm clock on his nightstand. The anthro deer stood in front of a mirror checking himself out for the tenth time. He wore a pair of distressed black jeans that hugged his ass and let his fluffy white tail hang out from the back. The loose denim was cinched tight around his waist with a studded leather belt. His shirt was a mesh button-up tucked into his shirt. Through the fine black mesh, one could see his nipple rings.

Jack had showered earlier that day, and after an hour of deliberating over his outfit, his hair and fur were almost completely dry. He reached up and tossed back the mess of clay-red curls on his head. His shoulder-length hair spilled in waves around the base of his antlers. Eight points jutted proudly into the air from the top of his head encircled and accented with gold jewelry.

He spun around once more and flipped his tail up to check out his butt. Still round and perky.

Satisfied, he threw a jacket on and put a few packets of lube and a condom into the pocket. His phone and wallet went into his jeans, and his keys hooked on one of his belt loops.

Jack ordered a taxi on his phone and went downstairs to wait for it. His apartment building was a twenty-minute walk from the Glacier, but he preferred to ride in a car on cold nights like tonight.

He sat down on the steps of his building. The app told him his driver was eleven minutes away. That was long enough for him to smoke a cigarette, so he pulled one from the breast pocket of his jacket. He lit it with the matchbox he kept in there as well. The first drag of smoke sent him coughing into his elbow, but the second warmed him right up. He perched the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and put his elbows on his knees.

Between puffing out clouds of smoke, he inhaled the cold fall air. He kept his ears pinned back against the breeze and his head down to avoid catching any attention. There were hardly any anthros to pay attention to him in the first place though. The sidewalk was littered with leaves, cigarette butts, and beer cans. Two cats walked down the sidewalk away from him, and a lone dog leaned against a lamppost across the street.

His part of town was far from clean, the biggest issue with getting anyone to come over. As soon as a potential date heard he lived on the lower east side of the city they usually ghosted him.

He liked the place, though most other people called his neighborhood trashy. It was what he could afford.

Jack smoked two-thirds of his cigarette before his taxi arrived. When the small brown car pulled up, he sighed and got to his feet. He stubbed out the remaining tobacco and tossed it into a nearby overflowing trash can. The passenger side window rolled down.

"You Mr. Yates?" A feminine cockatoo with a heavy smoky eye and a low-cut shirt leaned over the center console and showed her phone to him. On her screen was the taxi confirmation number, which matched the one on his phone.

"That's me," he nodded.

"Get in the back," she said, gesturing with her thumb to the back seat. He did as directed.

Her car smelled like ash and Cheerios, an odd combination until he noticed the small booster seat on the opposite side of the car. The cockatoo tapped something into her phone and set it on her dashboard.

"Do you mind if I smoke, Mr. Yates?"

"Ah, no. Go ahead," he nodded.

The driver stuck a white stick of tobacco in her mouth and flicked her lighter to light it. Once it burst to life, she put the car in drive and pulled off of the curb. Jack put his seatbelt on and leaned against the door.

The drive was shorter than the time he spent waiting, and soon the taxi pulled off to the side of the road again.

"Total is 6.58 credits," she rasped as she blew smoke out the open window.

Jack's phone pinged in agreement. He opened the app again and paid her through its payment options. He left a tip to round up to eight credits. Once she waved him off, he got out of the car.

The Glacier was still a walk away, though that was hardly the taxi's fault. The bar was nestled in an alley inaccessible to any car. He had to pass the bar's dumpster to begin his trek to the entrance. The alleyway reeked of smoke and piss, and it was easy to see why. Anthros smoking all manner of legal and illegal substances lined the walls. Some drunkards leaned against the buildings as well, a few with their pants undone to release a stream of urine against the wall.

The dirty atmosphere sent a chill of excitement through the buck. He hadn't come here in two years, and it was no different than when he had left. Anthros were so loose here and minded their own business. Everyone had fun in their way here-- be it smoking pot or sucking someone off behind a dumpster.

Jack kept to the boards and broken pallets that kind strangers had laid down to help folks stay out of the puddles that accumulated here. He nodded silent greetings to the friendlier animals in the alleyway.

He came to a metal door that had once been painted black, pulled down the handle, and wrenched it open Past the door was a dimly lit hall and a wood stairwell. He bounded up the steps to reach the second floor.

From the hallway, he could hear the pulsing music and drunken voices. A bouncer in a leather jacket stood outside the door at the end of the hall. He only looked up once Jack had gotten within arm's reach. Jack opened his wallet and offered his I.D. to the bear, who inspected it for a moment and handed it back with an affirmative grunt and nod. He had permission to enter.

It felt like entering another world when Jack passed through the door into the Glacier. The interior was dim, lit mostly by the neon signs along the walls. The bar on the right side of the room was packed with anthros, the three bartenders slinging drinks at breakneck speeds to keep up with the thirsty crowd.

On the other side of the room was what Jack considered the lounge. Three leather booths lined the wall, and there were several wooden bistro tables between them and the tile dance floor. Many of the seats on that side were filled with older men in leather who sipped on beer and hard liquor. Men were grinding on each other in the booths and sharing dirty secrets under the loud music between drinks.

Those men were Jack's prime target. He knew the leather daddies could give him a good romp with no strings attached, and they had plenty of experience.

The buck went to the bar first though. Anxiety coursed through him, mostly brought on by his time away. He managed to flag down a bartender and order three Lemon Drops. He paid instantly through his phone on the register. The bartender poured his shots, then turned to other, drunker customers.

Jack took each shot of liquor and lemon juice in quick succession. He didn't give them time to burn until the third had been swallowed. He scrunched up his nose at the sour lemon, though he preferred that to straight vodka by a mile.

He stepped back from the bar and let someone else fill his space. He scoped out the scene across the room, taking in the sight of leather-clad men feeling each other up.

The animals here were diverse-- cats, horses, and even a few big cattle sat around drinking. Jack raked his eyes over every last one of them. Many were objectively hot but didn't quite pique his interest. It seemed not just any graymuzzle would do. He nearly resigned himself to ordering another drink when someone came out of the bathroom to his right.

A muscular moose bull in a tight t-shirt and leather pants walked past him toward the lounge. He was at least two feet taller than Jack, with a slicked-back mane of silver hair between his broad antlers and down his neck. His clothes looked painted on, so form-fitting that he could see the moose's balls almost perfectly outlined by the leather. Or maybe that was a trick of the light, but it sure got Jack's blood racing.

Jack was frozen in awe until the moose passed. His pants looked like they would burst around his barrel thighs as he took a seat by the pool tables.

The lemon drops must have worked their magic because Jack was sauntering over to the man before he could think twice. He put a little extra swing into his hips. With each step, he tried to make himself look as inviting as possible.

The moose looked at him with dark deep-set eyes from under a pair of bushy brows. His square jaw was relaxed but still looked sharp enough to cut at the right angle. He curled the corner of his lips up when Jack approached.

"Hey there handsome," the words slipped out of Jack's mouth. He put one hand on the table between him and the moose and cocked his hip.

"You're a bold one, aren't you?" The moose's deep voice made him shudder.

Jack felt his sheath quiver with excitement. He felt like a whore, falling so easily for a big man who could hold his head in one hand. His eyes trailed over the man's barely contained chest.

"I don't think you could blame me. I wanted to shoot my shot before anyone else snatched you up," he replied, looking up through his lashes.

"That so?" His eyes had a dangerous glint to them, one that told Jack he was exactly the kind of man he wanted to meet tonight. The moose leaned forward and his pecs bulged obscenely. He flicked one ear.

"Y-yeah."

He flicked his ear back as well and swallowed nervously.

Suddenly, the moose stood and he was staring up at the chest of a minimum five-hundred-pound, muscle-bound beast.

"Do you think you can handle me, little buck? I'm very big." If there was any warning in that sentence, Jack's brain skipped over it and straight to the idea of handling the moose. He exhaled shakily and nodded.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, you're going to be fun, aren't you? Pretty little deer. You don't know what you're getting into," the moose chuckled.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he argued with a light tone.

A booming laugh erupted from the older man as he bent down to look the buck in the eye. One of his big hands reached out and cupped Jack's face. It was a gentle touch, one he could pull away from if he wanted to, but he could feel the size, the power behind those fingers.

"Do you, little deer? Maybe I will let you try to climb, and see how far you can get before you tap out. Few can handle my size and power."

The growl in 'little deer' sent blood straight south to Jack's dick. The tip of his cock slipped out of his sheath and rubbed against the soft fabric of his jockstrap. He squirmed but didn't pull away from the moose's touch.

"Let me try. I'm sure I can surprise you," Jack said. He glanced down at the moose's pants to see a growing bulge against the leather.

After a brief moment, the bull nodded in agreement. "I should not keep you from something you want so badly. Come, we'll go somewhere more private."

It almost took Jack by surprise, but of course, they wouldn't just fuck on the table. Sure the grinding and sloppy make-outs were allowed, but their plans required more discretion. The deer straightened up and nearly fell over in his hurried attempt to follow the moose. He led Jack to the opposite side of the room, looking over his shoulder before ducking into a doorway that he barely fit through.

The door closed behind them and the sounds of the bar were quiet once more. They were in another hallway, cold and bathed in red light. Industrial pipes snaked over the walls but it was otherwise barren, not that Jack had time to take much in.

In an instant, the moose was on him. Big hands wrapped around his waist and pressed against his back. It felt like being lifted, though his hooves were still on the ground. The moose's lips started at his throat, sucking on the tender flesh. His dick was rock hard against his jeans, desperate to be let out and touched.

"Call me Bacchus," the moose murmured between nibbles.

"Ok-a-ay," Jack heaved a broken sigh. He clung to the massive body like a lifeline as he was enveloped by it.

Bacchus kept one hand on his waist and used the other to unbutton and unzip his leather pants. He pulled them down to his knees and let his sheath and balls hang free. The light hadn't played a single trick. The moose's pink, tapered cock slipped out of its sheath with a slick sound. His big, furry balls swung dangerously beneath it.

It was easy to see now why Bacchus had warned him about his size. His dick looked much like Jack's, except it was nearly a foot long and as wide around as Jack's fist at its base.

"Still think you can handle it, deer? It's okay to back down now," he teased.

There was a moment where he thought about denying himself the fat, dripping length pointing at his belly. He could find someone else, or maybe just go home for the night and forget about hooking up. His dick angrily tried to pull the brakes on that train of thought. He was horny, Bacchus was here and also horny, and the alcohol was starting to hit his bloodstream.

"I don't back down from a challenge," Jack said firmly. "I want to climb the mountain."

That earned him another laugh from the moose.

"Good," the older anthro stated. He wrapped a fist around himself and pumped his hand up and down a few times. A dribble of pre-cum leaked from his tip and down his knuckles. Jack had to fight the urge to lap up every drop that came from his cock.

"We will get you nice and stretched for me first. Undress."

The order made the buck scramble to undo his pants. They slid off his hips and down to the floor once his belt loosened, and his dick bounced up toward his belly. He felt tiny in comparison, his angry, red cock putting up little competition to its opponent.

"Ah, that is cute," Bacchus cooed. His fingers trailed up the underside, and Jack whined as it twitched with need. The touch was gone too soon.

"You wanted to stretch me out, big guy? You'll need these." Jack reached into his jacket and pulled out the condom and lube packets. The moose bull took the proffered items but snorted as he looked closer at them.

"Do you have anything... bigger? This will not fit me," he said as he shook the condom between two fingers. Indeed, it was far too small for their purposes, but the pack he had bought didn't exactly have a variety of sizes. He bit his lip as he considered it.

"That's all I've got, sorry. I mean... I'm clean, haven't fucked anyone in like three months anyway." Jack couldn't help the hopeful upturn of his voice at the end. He hoped the bull might accept his disguised offer.

There was silence between them for a long moment. He realized he was asking and risking a lot with the standard of cleanliness most of the anthros here held. Still, this opportunity felt so rare, he had to offer. As the moose considered his words, he stared forward at the man's chest, unable to meet his eyes.

"I have a clean bill of health as well. Are you sure about this?"

Bacchus's face was stone-still and unreadable, but he looked deep into Jack in a way that made him feel exposed. The question was as serious as its wielder. There was no way he could say no to this.

"Yes. Yes, I am sure," Jack insisted.

That was enough for both of them, it seemed. Bacchus swooped in and pressed their lips together as he lifted Jack further up the wall. He spread the buck's lean, muscled legs and exposed him from hole to tip and pressed hungry kisses to any exposed fur he could find. The desire in the moose's body was palpable, so hot that the air around them was warmer for it. His obscene girth was a solid, burning line between them and it rubbed against the deer's dick in a way that made his head spin.

He didn't notice the moose's hands slowly trailing downwards until they gripped his ass cheeks and spread them apart. Jack's hole tightened in excitement and anticipation.

With him against the wall like this, Bacchus could have him any way he wanted. He could push in right now, nothing but his pre to ease his way. He didn't though. Jack nearly expected him to, but he was surprisingly gentle when his wet fingers touched the deer's hole. One of the wide digits pressed deeper, and in mere seconds Bacchus eased the tip of his finger in.

Jack's entire body shuddered, squeezing tight around the familiar sensation. His cock had flagged in their brief conversation but he was at full mast again now. His blood roared in his ears, and he was so gagged with pleasure he could hardly string sounds into words beyond mewls of pleasure.

Slowly, he took more and more of the thick digit. If Jack's usual hookups were candles, Bacchus's hands alone were a roaring bonfire. His finger worked in and out at an easy pace, crooking upward to search for Jack's prostate. The hand holding him up wasn't still either, rubbing soft patterns into his flank.

"Yes, sing your pretty song for me, little deer. No one will hear you in here but me," Bacchus growled possessively. Jack could do nothing but obey.

When Bacchus pressed against just the right spot inside him, Jack seized and nearly came then and there. It had been too long, he was so worked up, so close-- and then the pressure was gone and he was gasping and grasping helplessly at the moose's shoulders. He whined his discontent and wiggled his hips downward.

"Please, please..."

"Sh, have patience."

"Ah, I can't, please!"

Jack's voice tapered off into a low groan as a second finger pushed in alongside the first. The feeling wasn't painful, but incredibly prominent as he was stretched much wider than he was used to. He breathed through it, and let his body clench and adjust to the stretch.

"You really are big," he managed to wheeze.

Bacchus chuckled and leaned in close. "You can still end this now if you want. You spread so easily for me though, little deer. I think you can take it," the bastard whispered. His words were a very obvious and easy out, and Bacchus even withdrew his fingers a bit in anticipation. But his words were also a challenge. Jack flared his nostrils and shook his head.

"Keep going." He intended to sound serious, dominant, and defiant against the challenge, but his words turned to begging instead.

"As you wish." And Bacchus continued.

He kept his fingers gentle, but his grip was tighter than ever on Jack's hip and it was clear he was growing impatient as well. He was still rock hard and leaking onto the deer's soft white belly. Now and then he rolled his hips forward to grind their cocks together, and both of them would shake at the sensation.

The moose tortured him further with cruel brushes of his broad fingertips against his prostate. He would play with it a little longer each time his fingers passed over it. Jack's body was taut like the strings of a violin, with Bacchus playing and his hand the bow pulling desperate notes from his lungs. He would never touch long enough for Jack to reach the precipice.

By now Jack's dick was aching, and getting more sensitive with each teasing stroke. His chest heaved with ragged gulps of air that seemed to do nothing but leave him breathless. Heat burned his belly, alcohol and arousal mixing inside to make his blood boil.