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Kieran grumbled and shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position in which to wedge his noticeably larger legs beneath the cafeteria hall table. At least he had been here long enough that nobody really batted an eye when he walked in as a tall, broad were-hyena, instead of the much shorter and slimmer human he had introduced himself as. Quite a relief, too, considering how embarrassing that first time had been... but, still, he sighed and rolled the claws of one paw back and forth across the surface of the table, the other resting along his upper thigh.

Already he had lost the track of whatever it was he had come here for, the hyena's mind drifting elsewhere, into different things. He had taken a table up near the back of the room hoping to minimize the attention on himself, but still he felt the burgeoning need growing inside of him, coaxed forward by the hunger of his mind when he got to this point.

So that paw continued back, and in, and... Kieran half-opened his eyes and surreptitiously gazed around the hall, ensuring that nobody was looking, before he tugged down the zipper of his jeans. Naturally he didn't bother wearing underwear when in this form - he had never gotten any that fit - and as such, as soon as that zipper came down his fingers pressed and sank into the plump, leathery skin of his heavy sheath, thick and supple, a little humid, a little damp.

All morning these thoughts had been with him, and it had gotten to the point where he just couldn't resist. The hyena let out a shivering sigh and leaned back along the chair, just letting the pads of his fingers explore and dance around: he gently pinched the rim of his sheath between forefinger and thumb, gave the dense, elastic skin a tug, circled them around again, then pushed in towards the center. Constant fantasizing on the way here meant that the inner folds had gathered a thick coating of slimy slickness, easily transferring over to coat his fingerpads and allow him to circle them in smoother and more easily, the rich, tickling sensation nearly making one of his legs kick against the underside of the table.

The hyena's eyes closed again, and he put himself back into his dorm last weekend. That little otter from his biology class had come over for a study night together, and then of course things had gone in quite another direction with Kieran here sitting back in his desk chair, legs spread, balls draping down off the front and hefty, equine shaft hanging away from his body, while that otter circled his nose and tongue around the rim and just inside.

The dumbass mustelid had even brought out the "see? I'm studying your biology" line, and Kieran had nearly kicked him out right then and there - were it not for the way he had clamped his lips around the end of the hyena's sheath, rolling all of that supple, wet skin forward to enclose around his head again, just as he did now beneath the cafeteria table. The sensation made him shiver and pull in a breath through his nose, toes curling and then uncurling again; a little bit of that stickiness oozed out from the folds of skin and spread between his pads, soaking against his fur and then pulling away in little strands when he released his paw again.

Kieran opened his eyes, realized what he was doing, and then felt a blush hit his dark-furred cheeks. At least he had left the button of his pants together. He grunted, shifted again, tried to move his legs to a position where it wouldn't be too obvious, then made a show of folding his paws in front of his muzzle to rest his chin on them. Slowly, indulgently, he drew in another breath of his own scent, the thick strands hanging across his fur in little wet globules that clung to his lips and nose when he brought it up.

Hell - this was what that damned otter's breath smelled like when he had finished. Well, this and a whole lot else, after trying to take a full horse cock down his throat, and then managing it just enough so that when Kieran did finish, he could tell the poor boy hadn't even needed to swallow for it to enter his belly. The entire time he had been bobbing along the hyena's length, one paw remained at his sack while the other teased and toyed along his sheath, drawing it up and forward along his shaft as far as it could go, encasing it in sleek, slick skin, then pushing it back so that all the folds and wrinkles overlapped again.

No denying that the boy knew his way around a sheath, inside and out. Keeping that musk-soaked paw against his nose, Kieran adjusted his posture again and dropped his other back down to the table, eyes drifting shut in remembering the rest of the night. For the entire time while his horse-sized length softened and slid slowly back the otter had remained down there between his legs, idly pawing at himself while he continued his business as usual. Kieran still remembered the sensation of his nose tracing back and forth along his sensitive rim, the warm little puffs of breath washing across and within his sheath, and then how he would occasionally purse his lips and suck some of the supple skin up and into his mouth, tugging it away from the base of his shaft. Sometimes he would lift a paw up and bunch that skin together, bringing out a little space into which he could slip his tongue, and suck, and slurp, and-

Kieran jumped at a sudden pop from underneath the table, quickly followed by a hefty thump that he felt through the surface. That would have been the button of his pants popping off, and... he shivered, wriggled his hips, throbbed, and felt the underside of the table pushing back down against his hard shaft. He grimaced, felt that blush return, and tried to nonchalantly slide his paw underneath the table... and resulted only in pressing himself down against the blunted flare, pulling another shudder, kick, and throb out of himself.

So that's what kind of day it was going to be. He gritted his teeth, clamped that paw around his muzzle to both suppress any kind of grunt or moan as well as continue to drink deep of his own scent, and dug the claws of his other along the table, trying to resist the urge to grind his hips forward and back where he sat. It was a self-perpetuating cycle, though, as each time another throb pulsed through his body, the wide flare of his equine shaft pushed up against the table, stuck there, then drooped free, and the relieved pressure caused him to naturally shift... which in turn dragged the surface of his hard cock against the table again, which just pushed him right back into another throb, which drew that flare steadily further forward, which just made each throb and press jolt through him even more strongly than the one before. He was fully aware that anyone walking by would be able to see what was going on underneath the table, but at this point there was hardly a thing he could do about it.

Each time he blinked all he could see was that damn otter, and the better this fucking thing felt the more his eyes fluttered shut. His imagination replaced the cool, flat surface of the table against the back of his head with the smooth, well-practiced paw of his visitor, squeezing down into place, two fingers placed behind the flare and then two more right along the blunted surface of his head, squeezing back with the thumb so that he was able to circle his tongue in there around the tip, to slurp out the steadily dribbling pre.

Kieran's legs reflexively came together as that pressure continued to grow inside of him, squishing in around the soft yet still decisively firm girth of his shaft in between, often to his chagrin lining up perfectly with the joke of it being a third leg. Paw still clamped around his mouth, he dropped the other down to his lap, pushed it down into thick, humid pubic fur, then squeezed it up, up, up along his length towards the end, having to tilt his body and angle his shoulder down to reach through the odd angle. He swallowed again, shivered, curled his toes, took in another breath, resisted the urge to press and stroke and slip back and forth.

But it would feel so, so good to wrap in around my flare and squeeze it back, just like he did when he was here. So damn good to circle a finger around the tip right there, get it all nice and slickened with pre - oh, God, there's a lot; I'm making a puddle on the floor - and to squish back against the medial ring, and...

_ _

And then he felt the pressure start to bubble and boil all its own, growing up to a fierce urgency deep in his loins. The were-hyena's eyes flashed open and he looked fervently around himself again, finding to his surprise that nobody was outright staring yet. A full-on finish certainly _would_draw enough attention to be unwanted, though, but at this point he could tell there was no turning back: his shoulders tightened up towards his head, his eyes fluttered, his neck strained, his tail lashed, his hips and legs trembled with approaching intensity. A thousand different images and desires flashed through his head all at once, driving him forward through this urgency with annoying ease.

Nearly every time he shifted into his were-hyena form, this happened. Not a hundred percent of the time, but still often enough that he had to keep close consideration of nearby bathrooms, alcoves, crannies, or in this case, tables to hide his raging arousal and, soon, overflowing productivity. Something about the twisted, energized hormones and chemicals blasting through his system, catalysts for the change leftover in his metabolic and adrenal systems, mixing together into irresistibility and -

And he gasped, leaned back with enough force to make the chair buck underneath him, and clamped his paw down around the head of his cock right as his flare folded out to its peak, stiff yet soft meat pushing out against his knuckles. The were-hyena sucked in a gasp through gritted teeth, felt and heard his jaw crack, tried to resist that burgeoning heat and neat - and then instead felt it spurt weakly out through the spaces in between his fingers, thoroughly painting his palm and streaking back along the blunted front of his head, orgasm stifled, stymied at the last moment, allowed to reach that point without pushing forcefully past it.

For what felt like countless torturous minutes he trembled, panted, and drooled both along his lip as well as into his clenched paw, stray squirts of fresh cum occasionally spraying out and painting the side of his leg or front of his pants or the underside of the table and some of the tiled floor out in front. Kieran rode through the half-orgasm as much as he could, then kept his legs as far in as he could to try his best to hide himself when he wrenched his paw free; it dripped loosely with thick ropes of sticky white as though he had just smacked it down on a freshly baked vending machine honey bun, which only matted across his fur further when he tried to shake them off.

Bit by bit his mind started to clear up, the reality of Kieran's situation gradually sinking into place. Soon his overwhelming arousal began to give way to embarrassment and nervousness, and with each second that passed he thought he could feel another pair of eyes flick over to see what that noise was, to figure out what that smell was, to find out why Kieran was panting and wriggling in his seat like that. Panicked, the were-hyena spread his legs for a moment and looked down underneath the table, at the wrist-thick shaft still pulsing and dribbling out across the floor over halfway to his knees.

There was no way he would be able to fit this thing back into his pants. He had managed it a few times during class or when in the bathroom, if he managed to angle it down into one of his legs while still stiffening up, but that usually resulted in him walking with a staggered limp until it went down - and God forbid he get into a regular rhythm with his walk, since that just resulted in the same squeezing, sliding, and stroking problems that had led to his mishap here, heart still fluttering from the finish only halfway succeeded. He looked around himself warily, took in a breath, held it, let it out, and then in a few quick, panicked movements, stuffed his entire equine shaft up beneath the hem of his shirt.

Then he zipped his hoodie up as well, trying to hide the wet stain of his still-oozing cum as it pressed out through the fabric. His heightened perception as well as familiarity with the product allowed him to quite easily pick out the musky scent of his own load there within the other scents of the cafeteria, which served to just further fold in with his nervousness; the hyena zipped up his pants fly, fiddled briefly with the broken button, then tugged the hems of his shirt and hoodie as far down as he could, head held off to one side against the still prevalent flare where it twitched and dribbled near his collar bone. As he wormed his way out of his seat he just washed himself in his own scent again and again, his half-satisfied desires already starting to heat back up.

From there it was another hassle getting the straps of his backpack over his arm, since doing so pulled on his shirt and hoodie and caused them to squeeze in around his still hard cock and full flare. Kieran had to take a moment to catch his breath and calm himself down, each throb squeezing in against the waist of his pants, forcing his zipper down a little bit further, threatening to flop his heavy balls out into the open air of the cafeteria - and those he knew he wouldn't be able to hide underneath his shirt. After another moment of fiddling, cursing, and quietly moaning he finally rose to his footpaws, took in another shaky breath after the extra tension against himself, and then half-ran, half-waddled out of the cafeteria.

This time it went without doubt that other students stopped to stare at him, seeing either the trunk-shaped bulge in his hoodie protruding out along one side of his chest, picking up the distinct scent of were-hyena musk and fresh seed, or just seeing the way he kept one paw surreptitiously shoved into his pocket close to his pants fly. He grinned and waved nervously at those with which he made eye contact, each one cementing his anxiousness further, as well as his arousal: by the time he ducked around the corner into the hallway with the bathrooms he felt himself dangerously close to his full finish already, the base urgency unmitigated by the poor, unsatisfying half-orgasm under the table. On the way in he nearly smacked into another hyena on his way out, who wrinkled his nose, glanced down at the very visible bulge within Kieran's hoodie, frowned, and then looked up at Kieran, but by then he had already bustled his way into the bathroom and towards the open stall in the back.

His backpack hit the floor before he had fully closed and locked the door, and as he did so with his other paw he yanked his fly zipper down with his pants going with it. Already panting, ears flicking, tail lashing, he stepped over towards the toilet, widened his stance, tugged his shirt and hoodie up - and felt his body lurch with the inertia of the heavy equina shaft swinging down and out of its containment, flinging off a thick milky rope of cum mixed with pre as it went. This rope smacked against the back of the toilet and dribbled down the wall, but Kieran's eyes were already closed by then, paw working back and forth across the supple, slick skin of his length, other tracing up across his chest where the heat of his shaft had simmered into his fur.

He swallowed again, shivered, looked down to the toilet, took a couple staggered steps back and tried to aim himself downwards into the bowl, the natural weight of such hefty meat making it an easier task. His tail naturally hiked up behind him in the rhythm of his self-indulgence, palm-sized balls swinging between his thighs as he stepped into a quicker rhythm; he lowered his other paw down as well and then ran both along himself one after the other, fingers squeezing each time they ran over the lump of his medial ring there, drawing the sleek, sensitive skin back and forth.

One paw was already slickened through to the fur with his ruined load earlier, and as his flare had gradually receded and then pulled back up on his way to the bathroom, more and more of the slimy liquid had oozed out across his head. Kieran ran his fingers across the tip and spread that back down over himself, smearing soft skin in clinging juice; he tilted his head back, pumped his hips forward each time his paws tugged back on himself, and then did the same in the other direction as well, squeezing tight, forcing the bulge of his head in and out through clamped fingers.

He tried to hold his breath as he went, yet the force of his enjoyment and need continually pushed out between his lips, from shivering sighs to low, breathy moans, to half-choked gasps whenever he ran too close and had to deliberately slow himself down. BY now both of his paws had become soaked with the dribbling juice and ooze of his fierce arousal, hyper productive equine length now squirting out glistening ropes of thick pre with each throb: the lifted seat of the toilet as well as the rim of the bowl both dripped with loose sprays of his pleasure, and whoever visited this particular stall next might be out of luck for how he had accidentally glued through much of the toilet paper roll hanging there from the tiled wall.

In one of these moments of rest Kieran released himself, shook his paws off, leaned in to sniff at his own scent smeared so thickly across his fingers... and got lost there for a moment, heavy cock bouncing, swinging, swaying in front of him as its natural dense weight warred with the pulsing throb of his body, slime-coated fingers pressed up against his nose. There was his own natural musk sharpened by the transformation into this were-hyena form, doubled again underneath the clinging wetness still leaking from the end of his shaft.

The hyena swallowed again, smeared some of that off against his lips, and reached down once more, now with one paw at the base of his shaft and the other wrapping as far as he could manage along the spot where his heavy sack hung down from underneath. He couldn't quite wrap his fingers around there, and with each push bounced his balls back, let them swing forward into his palm, and then bounced them again, then again wrapped his fingers around to squeeze and massage. Working himself with the other, thick supple skin bunched up against his pads and then slid through, firm meat underneath pulsing with the sensation; he squeezed up towards his head, worked his fingers right behind and along the rim of his flare, felt it steadily grow, twitch, pulse outwards, and then relax back again, each in turn with the tension and pressure straining through his loins as he rolled closer to that irresistible peak, and...

So wrapped up was he in his own indulgence, the were-hyena took no notice of the click and creak of the neighboring stall door opening. There was the tck-tck-tck of toeclaws tapping across the tiled floor, then a pause, then more tapping as whoever it was turned and came back; a moment of silence in listening, a small intake of breath, and then - a short series of knocks against the door to Kieran's stall here, forcing the were-hyena to gasp again and clamp his paws down on himself, reflexively stumbling to try to yank his pants uselessly back up.

"Uh, hey there," said an unfamiliar voice through the space in the door, "is, uh, everything alright in there? You've been making a whole fuckin' lot of, uh... you know."

_ _

Every muscle in his body tense, fingers tight and trembling, toes curling with claws scraping along the tile, Kieran sucked in a gasp, then another, and another, and just barely, barely managed to hold himself off, one paw pressed up against the backside of his twitching flare and the other bunched up along the soft ring there halfway along his length. Squeezing both of those spots simultaneously drew him closer and closer yet pushed that goal further away, like trying to keep his footing along a gravelly decline steadily becoming even more so.

"Ah-" His voice caught in his throat when he tried to speak, mouth dry. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm just - ah - y'know, it's... it's - cafeteria food, hah, like... yeah I'm..." How long is he gonna stay there? I'm - right about to... Fingers squeezing and rolling, keeping that flame right at the edge of sputtering over into a bonfire, just barely managing to keep his balance at the edge of the cliff. "I'm fine. I'm fine! I'm just..."

Silence that seemed to stretch on for minutes finally broke with another little sigh. "Alright, dude," the voice replied, now audibly retreating towards the door. "Must be a fuckin' bomb threat with noises like that. Don't think I wanna be here..."

Teeth gritted so hard he thought his jaw might crack, entire body trembling with so much energy built up, all it took was rolling the knuckle of one finger against the rim of his threatening flare to yank him right back towards the edge again, strong enough that his legs shuddered and he had to brace his shins against the toilet to keep himself upright. Tck-tck_of footsteps on tile floor, the squeak and rush of the sink faucet, the distractingly loud, constant _woosh of the air-dryer, all the while Kieran continually struggled with keeping himself there at the tip of the needle. At this point he couldn't let go of himself either, since the sensation and tug of his shaft flopping down and bouncing under its own weight would be more than enough to rocket him over the edge, and he had gone from clenching to a steady, deliberate relaxation, since if he tightened up at all he knew that that would be it.

Then, finally, there was the creak of the bathroom door opening, the brief rush as the noises from outside washed into the bathroom, and then - silence again, only for a fraction of a second before the were-hyena pressed his paws in, squeezed up towards his flare, tugged back, and gave himself a few more quick, intense strokes, quite enough to barrel him over his so desired, needed edge and carry him across. His lips curled back, his jaws clenched, his ears flicked; his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he saw stars flashing along the backs of his eyelids, and even though he had aimed for the toilet at first, the repeated wet smack- smack- of thick liquid ropes pounding out against the seat, the wall, the floor, the stall divider, told him that this attempt had failed.

For a moment there he thought he might be halfway to fainting for the way his head swam, his heart pounded, and how sweat simmered out along his skin through his fur. The world seemed to swirl around him, pleasure cresting there at its peak and bouncing back, and again, and again, forcing him to spread his stance and struggle to keep his footing, paw still slurping back and forth along his now cum-slickened shaft, his wide, full flare sending electric shocks through his system every time he pushed past it.

The world continued to swim, and so too did the pressure simmer throughout his body. The dizziness, the breathlessness, this odd feeling of compression... Kieran realized as the last few dribbles of his load oozed down across his fingers, that the thick, sticky liquid rolled over bare skin instead of thick fur: he lifted that paw, halfway to a hand, and turned it back and forth to watch the way his claws receded back into the smooth, short shapes of human fingernails, how the thick, calloused pads drew back into a pillowy palm, how the bones, tendons, muscles shifted and snapped and adjusted underneath.

Such a powerful orgasm that it had kickstarted a forced transition back into his human form, he realized. Chest still heaving with satisfied exhaustion, his breaths soon came shorter and slighter as that part of him changed as well, the broad, barrel-like were-hyena structure squeezing back into the flatter human's ribcage, with his sense of smell and taste soon to follow: the originally bright, characteristic bite and tang of rich musk dribbled back into an impression more like he had just caught something on the collar of his shirt, still forward and present yet a bit shallower.

Fighting against the slight dizziness that always came with the transformation, Kieran leaned over against the divider between his stall and the next, now finally looking up at the mess he had made. And it was certainly a hell of a mess, with thick strands, streaks, ropes, and splatters of gooey white dripping from the tank and handle of the toilet as well as the holder for the toilet paper, then more of it rolling slowly across the tiled floor towards the drain at the center - and promptly clogging it up, causing the rest to start to pool there. He lifted his hand again, swayed under the strange vertigo of expecting a much longer, heavier arm instead of the gangly human limb he saw instead, and then noticed the most important part of him starting to change as well.

Broad, flattened head, protruding point, all still dribbling with strands of milky white, shifted and shivered like everything else, sensitive flesh retracting back and changing its shape almost entirely. Just like with every other time, the sheer sensation of so many hypersensitive nerve endings firing off at once as they adjusted and altered made him weak at the knees, to the point where he bumped his head against the wall where he leaned - and instead of thick fur and mane felt loose, ragged hair over a smaller, rounder skull. Once more he reached his hands down around himself, feeling the smooth ring along the middle practically dissolve into the soft skin of the humanoid shaft, going from being able to fit both of his paws and those of at least two other friends - he had checked a few times - to having barely enough room for both of his hands.

Still reeling from the force of his finish, Kieran thought_again_ that he might faint when the change coursed its way up his back and to his shoulders, the long, curved spine of his hyena form progressively clicking, popping, snapping back into place, plates and blades and vertebrae adjusting to the smaller stature with tendons and muscles suitably reattaching around it. Again and again his breath was forced out of his body, then drawn back in with his lungs naturally expanding; he swallowed, did so again, ran his shorter, thicker tongue out around mobile lips, felt the flat teeth, the dense gums, the smaller space overall. His clothing sagged on a body suddenly much too small to accommodate, and seeing how he had already made a major mess of things, it was little more effort for the human to kick everything off and rustle around in his backpack for the spare set he always brought with him.

Even with his muted human senses the heavy, heady aroma of fresh were-hyena was strong enough to make him dizzy, and by the time he stumbled back out of the stall he thought for a third time that he might faint. The air in the rest of the bathroom was hardly any clearer: it felt like he was more drinking it than breathing it, also fully aware of some of that same culprit dribbling down the interior of his pants leg as his body finished up the transformation and squeezed out any aberrant or ill-fitting remnants. He took a few more breaths, hobbled over to the sink, washed his hands as best he could, then wiped them off on his pants on his way out - and then this time literally ran smack into someone.

A slim otter, one paw slipped underneath the strap of his own backpack, looked at the human with confusion and amusement both, and -

"Kieran? What're you doing here?"

The human blinked, opened his mouth, wondered for a moment if his brain was still stuck in the limbo space halfway between forms, and looked into the familiar muzzle of Cid there, one of his friends and classmates. Thankfully this was a different otter than the one who had occupied his thoughts all morning. "I was, just..."

The otter nodded at the sign. "Bathroom for humans is at the other end of the hall, dude. I don't know why they make such a big deal of it, though, but, ah..." He sniffed at the air, then frowned a bit. "What exactly, uh, happened in there? Should I wait and let the janitor do a pass before going in?"

Kieran sighed and squirmed where he stood, taking the chance to try to come up with some reason for his little mishap. Cid was one of the ones who didn't know about his predicament, and while it was fairly small beans to most others, there had just been something keeping the sometimes-human from telling the story to him. "It's really that obvious?"

"I mean..." Cid half-turned to look back towards the hallway, where a small group of other students stood slowly dissipating. "We thought someone was dying in there. Could hear it all the way out here. All good?"

"Oh, God." Kieran covered his snoutless face with a hand. "Don't tell me."

The otter leaned in to elbow him in the shoulder. "This is, what, the fourth time this month this has happened to you? Are you sure you shouldn't go visit the doctor?"

After a moment the human peeked through the spaces in between his fingers, mouth open. "It's something the doctor can't help with." Then, quieter: "Everyone heard?"

"They actually paused class at the end of the hall to see what had happened."

Kieran had hoped that something like this wouldn't have happened in the same week as the last one, but that was just the issue with his "condition". Over time he figured he could learn how to handle his other form and the natural desires and needs that came with it a bit better, but in the meantime - in the moment of, sense and understanding dripped away and instead gave way to nothing more.

Hell, his legs still shook from the force of that finish, and just remembering it was enough to begin another, much less obtrusive stir in his pants. Hopefully the next one would be able to wait.