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My Gym Partner's Bro, Cum-Laude (Part Two)

by Eightane

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"Lyle Newt!"

Fenton blurted the name like it had been the contents of his stomach. On-cue, the younger herp bounced out from behind the curtain, hopped up to the podium and fed on the crowd's applause. Two elders in particular stood tallest, hooting and hollering; he faced them proudly, and lifted both arms to mimic Nixon. It was a good impulse, for all the folks here twice his age; cackling interwove with the claps. He bounded down, to join twenty others in the cap 'n' gown; hiding well the stumble, Fenton shoving his ribcage from behind the podium the second he'd given his impression.

And even if Adam had caught on, unlike everyone around he and Jake, the glum was too strong to crumble.

His arms crossed each other on the seatback in front of him; their pale skin was a prop for his chin, no more lively than the rest of him. Eyelids were so low they barely blinked; Jake, to his left, at least found some activity; after learning to ignore the itch, still bloated with swelling, he took a nit from his fur, crunched it into the armrest, and cringed while he performed amateur dissection.

Adam's tone was half-mumble, half-whisper, all-despondent. "You wanna play rock-paper-scissors?"

Jake's head lazily shook. "Nah, it's no fun when I always win."

"You never w-" Adam truncated himself, and moved on. "D'you got your 3DS with you?"

"Yeah, but the battery's dead." He drew a lungful through clinched fangs; bearing down on the ex-nit, he'd accidentally flipped it away, where it landed across from them in Mrs. Giraffe's coif. He saw her fail to notice, wiped his forehead and picked through Adam's hair for more.

The human boy had just ample time to process what was said. "You don't charge it overnight?"

"'Course I do!", Jake shot back half-offended. "I just had it in the top of a tree last week, and dropped it. That'd be enough to kill any battery."

Frustration leapt in the boredom. "... You mean the whole thing's dead."

"There you go gettin' technical." He pulled a surprising find from Adam's ginger locks: a louse. Ever short-attention-span'd, he put on a dumb grin and held it by the body, close enough to study the head; completely missing the shadow that moved up his back. Windsor's shoulders managed not to look broad, simply by how low they were postured... His jaw held a dubious jut, the kind that straddles numbness and embarrasment.

Adam clued Jake in, by announcement. "You decide to come down and visit?"

The young gorilla expelled gallons of air. "Many variables combined to have me seek you. The adults have all been ushered, it's counterintuitive to view the proceedings from nosebleed-elevation, and... I've been instructed to relocate..." Jake looked over, interested as Adam was to hear. "... In the words of one contemporary Mr. Dingo, 'Move it, kid, I got a Penthouse here and I ain't about to be NARC'ed on.' "

Jake balked. "Psh, there's some in every crowd." Only meaning to pacify Windsor, he'd given a rare speck of insight. At least, before squeezing the louse, to which it shot out from his fingers, arc'ed through the air, and disappeared by the neck of his pullover. He sat, staring in unmoved shock, while it burrowed down the collar, giving his itch new dimension.

Windsor spoke more to Adam; not entirely surprised for Jake's frantic seatbound shuffle, unwise to what torment it was. "Adam, may I submit to you a query?"

"Uh... Sure, buddy." Adam sat straight and taller. "Something bothering you?"

He forced a smirk. "Something apart from the night itself? I believe this event's a modern legend of mental purgatory."

The reminder had Adam sink back down, chin-on-arms. "Maybe if they'd get on with it. Just hand out the paper, get the new grownups off stage and party at home..." Jake's body was a tremor between them, his fingers all-but-scrubbing the hide below that corduroy. "... I mean I know that, and I'm just now old enough for Die Hard."

Windsor's face drew puzzled. "Your forebears allow that you take in fare so gory?"

Adam's eyes cut clearly away. "I never said that. They don't know how to work a V-chip."

Jake piped in; every phrase came strained, with the new itch moving over limb and flank, revving old itches back to fortitude. "Adam... You can't... Act like they're not loopy. If you were up there gettin' your new legs, wouldn't you want some time to stand proud about it?"

The human eyes cut back, watching Jake scratch on without reaction. "I still think I'd wait it out. I'm not gonna wanna celebrate with fifty times as many parents as the ones who're mine. Dad likes to say, time's the only thing everybody shares."

"Well even supposing he evoked this sort of reference, in quoting that..." Windsor spouted, "... I don't perceive you feel the gravity of this."

Adam tried to nod; it came so soft, the motion died into nothing. "I know what I feel. Like I could take my Airsoft gun and plug a few pits in my haircut."

Jake's scratching stopped instantly. His stare towards Adam took on the most dire of scowls. "Now that's just stupid. You know better than to say that."

Adam's chuckle barely cut down the glum. "I'm not serious, it was a funny-"

"I don't care if you are or not, that ain't the point." Jake's pitch was on a warpath; Windsor looked on, raising eyebrow. "You know you'd have to go home to get the gun, and then you wouldn't be here anymore. Why'd you even think something that dense-" He slapped a hand to Adam's elbow, growing concern like a slab of bread yeast.

"Okay Jake, I get it..." Adam exclaimed, sitting up and half-recoiling. "I won't do someth- I mean I won't think so dumb-ly, I guess-"

"This is serious, Adam! " Jake had erupted into shouts; Windsor and twenty-odd parents in proximity watched the spectacle unfold. "I mean LOOK at you, you'd never say that on a normal day, when we're doing normal kid things, like laughing and playing and not ballooning out like cherry bubble-gum..."

"That's just you." Uncannily deadpan, for how it just slipped from Adam's lips without intention.

"I'm saying get a hold of yourself, this torture's changing you! " Jake's eyes resembled baseballs; he lunged to take Adam's shirt in both hands, clutching madly. "You'll leave so bored you'll never be the same... You'll just stumble around the house, your brain'll turn to goo, and it'll eat at you 'til you're nothing but a hobo, leaping trains, raiding trash bins for Beanie Weenies you eat off a moldy napkin from behind a gas station. The kind that doesn't even sell lotto tickets..."

He took the force of a headbutt, and let off an 'OOF'... The groom of Mrs. Giraffe, Ingrid's father, clocked him brow-to-brow from two rows down. Adam, Windsor and the elders close-by, stared and hinged on any explanation. "Excuse me, young... Jake, I believe?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Do you take Ritalin?" He seethed every syllable, like they left his throat as sandpaper.

Spidermonkey's head drifted right-to-left.

"Start."

And with that, his neck returned to vertical, Adam crushed back some sidesplitting laughter, and even Windsor gave the chimp a light backhand swipe to the haunch. For the first time, Jake wished to be a turtle... So to have the choice of pulling in his head, and block reality.

Had Pixiefrog heard any such commotion, he'd have been up to give Jake more than embarrassment. But as the door down from the stage swung silently open, he and Maurice would only now have any clues of what occurred in the crowd.

Many minutes, the constant applause had reached them in the foyer; Fenton, it appeared, hadn't bombed, and so their task of playing covert-help-slash-bouncers looked to have expired. Maurice peeked out, to sneakily find the first empty seats; Ponch helped the search from between his ankles.

"See anything? " Pixiefrog whispered... Instinctually, he looked up to face the party he addressed; reactionarily, seeing up the leg of male shorts, he winced and shot eyes back to level.

Maurice, unawares, found their mark; and tiptoed out, leaving Ponch to follow double-time. "Up there, the second-from-the-bottom. I hope no one thinks we're crashing..."

"C-cras... For God's sake, it was five years ago we had all these kids under our wing. You think their families won't know us? "

The epiphany caught mandrill enough to have him stop, reel and set off quietly again. "Sorry, flashbacks from college." In a sense, he was half-true... In waiting near the stage, his own boredom had brought on a certain thought. One he kept unspoken, while moving up the aisle and sliding to their seats. He plopped down, creaking the wood around him; barely louder than Pixiefrog, climbing the chairleg like a palm tree, while more students walked the stage with new lease on life.

"Amazing," Ponch muttered, freshly situated and leaning in to Maurice. "Fifty thousand a year to get these klutzes through the rote, and some of them go from here to flipping burgers."

Maurice leaned into him as well, though more focused on the brittle sway in a stagebound wolverine principal. "And what about the ones who turn out as lawyers or exec's?"

"I..." Pixiefrog started, then swallowed a lump. "... I tend not to think much on that." He adjusted his coat; the best he'd ever found browsing Goodwill.

Name after name, student after student. The sound of clapping became as how a fridge or furnace sounds: unnoticed. At least the three young boys had each other to yap at; Ponch and Maurice had little more than snickers at some clumsy dweebs, before they slammed facefirst to the doldrums. A button-down elementary principal, and flower-child counselor, couldn't hold a gabber through this much stuffy air...

... And that - the air - spurred Maurice to have more trouble ignoring his prior urge. He'd need an excuse to get up, leave Ponch seated, dodge the auditorium for a short stint. A good, watertight excuse...

... Which took all of three full seconds to conjure. "Ponch, I'll be back in a jiff. Right-on-time to administer my supplements." He leaned up, stood and adjusted his coat; in doing the latter, he gave a sly pat to his pockets; what he needed was there. As Pixiefrog saw it, his friend only went for medical discretion; no further thought was given, while the mandrill slinked away, back through the door, down a maze of corridors. He cracked a smile; all he needed was an empty room, off tonight's beaten paths... And maybe the spliff and lighter filling space in his shorts.

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If Blake knew anything of Will - his many tendancies - it paralleled what Roslin had known. White lies were made obvious... And bait.

There was no trod off to the men's room. Only warm shouting, echoed in the chamber of a janitor's closet. A shelf lay above their heads, stocked with chemicals, under bright yellow bulb; astride it ran a length of iron hangar bar. It was here that gloves would be clamped to dry, some other days; it was here that Will's hands curled strong, holding true to his pivot point. Blake wailed a dirge through his crooked teeth, no chance of doing less with that quarterback behind him, ramming nearly-eight up his quaking hole.

The sight had Roslin in a boil; tongue limp, his own Komodo body up to Blake, chest-to-chest, while the ape rolled his weight past that bar, shoving in, rocking them together. To stand would be impossible, without that croc's brawny arm straight out, hand-to-the-wall. It bore them alone, since the other had its own diversion: cruising up his six reptile inches, and Blake's five, rubbing each as they rubbed each other. Slow, slick and stable, if not for every few seconds, when they'd crash dicks head-to-head for the shock of Will's plow in that doggie ass.

Roslin leered, but went unheard; Will's mouth was a tide of gasps, grunts and yelling orders for Blake to clinch that ring, but he too was inaudible. The slimmer dork they'd engaged repaid them in shrieks and shivers; their gowns, and pants, lay across a vacuum's handle, where one could almost see them shimmy in shockwaves. Blake, the heaviest screamer in high school, kept nothing to himself. Not that blissful ache below his tail, with eight primate inches in a jackhammer; not his knotted cock, every nerve just singing back to him while Roslin's pipe slid down, up and over.

To say nothing of how it felt for Will to throb inside him, glorious and separate from the plugging pace. Blake's maw blasted sounds of resignation. Only pleasure, only giving in like the lesser male all three would consider him.

"Yeeahhh, beat it in there, man..." Roslin rumbled, low and loud past Blake's whines to laud Will. He stared down, admiring how much more built he was than their dogslut, two hills of sinew and a wall of abs pushed up on Blake's soft front; and then the pre, welling in his slithole, micro-rippling for another time Will's shaft exploited pupcave. "Tight as hell, damn-sure..."

Will chuckled low, devious, in full charge. He also chose to stare groundwards; watching his strong, uncommon length just stab into Blake, fast and deep. "For now... Ohhhhhh..." There'd be no squashing the domineer's groan; not if Will was forced to watch past his own muscle, and see all that size just shank into the screaming pup. He set ultrahard reps, gloating tough, a single word each time he forced that weapon in. "Belly-...-Achin'... Wimp... You... Take... My... Fuckin'... Beast..."

Roslin would've laughed, just in pleasure of hearing it; precluded only by teeth-gritting moans, a manful smirk. He saw Blake's neck arch before him, crooning squeals; it was natural to tease. "Jerr can't help you now, li'l bitch. Bear down, take your fuckin' licks..." He let a hum, pushing dick up to Blake's and sliding it, sharing the sensory burst. "Mmmmmfuck... Make y' weep, punk... Fuckin' go 'til we shoot all over you, 'n' your bud's got no idea..."

Will hit that hole even steadier, deeper; a stubby tail was put to wriggling. "Hehh, like Jerr would even compromise... He'd fuckin' join." More launching from the handhold above him; nonstop volleys, filling Blake with hard pipe, smooth and ruthless. Will's sneer was thin, chiseled on, not unlike his own pecs; looking past them, he saw Blake as the cut of beef he violently tenderized... Each retraction, every shine of pre he saw down the length of his own monster, had his ego expand.

And every fierce shove, digging Blake like his personal fucktoy, pulled a string of yips from the pup. Beneath, he muttered; not in facts of the dog, but of an absent wingman. "Know where he'd set up... Right where you're rubbing... You think he's nuts for one pecker... See him on two..."

Two halls distant - thirty feet as the crow flies - 'Roo continued standing, moaning, trembling knees around the monkey's commitment. Jerr's snout pressed into his treasure trail; the long-spent cock lay to the side, with monkey lips pressed around his nutsack; gently pulling, coddling the balls, lapping residue of sweat. One could see the affection in how Jerr sank into it; he showed little sign that he'd forget what those tender orbs gave. The hallway was a sound chamber, by 'Roo alone, casting every breath in the bliss Jerr put through his junk... Even moreso, in the simple action of monkey's mouth drawing back, loosening lips, and letting that sack just slide past his chops back into 'place'.

Jerr fixed a gaze on the package, while its owner cried out in harsh pleasure... The chimp could barely keep from it, but another high longing had filled him; what he thought to say. "Godfuckin'damn, dude... Been stewin' in your boxers all day..." He lunged to lick up and down the meat, then every side of that sack, all the way breathing whines. "Manmusk... Fuuuck, it's almost like Will's..."

Back in the cleaner's closet, the ape railed his best bro's bud; mouth agape in how brutal he gored that whopper in. Blake wailed like a prime bitch; Roslin inched that fat rod up their prey's; Will's mind went elsewhere. "Damn, if he were here... He'd be under 'n' between, giving your noise one hell of a punch-up..."

'Roo took Jerr's nose, pushing up on his shaft, imbibing sniffs of sheer man. He couldn't shake the image of his crush. "Lotta days at his place, he'll have me watch him shower... See the soap wash down his beef, like his spunk down my chin..."

Will let one hand off the bar; with his other firm, he leaned up, pushing muscle to the Doberman's back, still railing his hole. "I'll even fuck him with my shirt on, behind him... So he's trapped against these pecs while I flog that puck'..."

Jerr had no resolve to stop his taking that 'roodick; though it had given, he throated and sucked it back to throbbing. "Stick my hand down his briefs, man... Play wit' that huge halfchub, the two seconds it stays that way..."

Will mugged to Roslin, lids low and trading looks of dominance. "Has a mouth like a bank chute..."

Jerr dove gentle, coming up to lick the head, kiss it and smell the polished skin. "Got one strong, huge fucksword..."

Gorilla pole bashed that pup's ass, grinding and trickling pre. "Fuckin' drinks my load like juice..."

Monkey's tongue worshipped; the 'roo rose fast from only-hard to speechless crave for another peak. "Got the ass of a bodybuilder... Clenches every time he rams my throat..."

The thought lay so strong in Will, he downplayed the air from Blake. "Never hit a hole so paramount... Never heard another man melt more to have me wreck him..."

"... Man, I've laid more dudes'n you can line up at a warzone..." Jerr spoke, then dove.

"... But he's the knock-down prince of pole-guzzling greed."

Will fueled himself, just to hear the fact in his own voice. Blake's muzzle draped on Roslin's shoulder; howling past his ear, frotting one football jock and having ass destroyed by another. So easily too much; he braved it, and loved it, just as they thrived on hearing him shriek. Will knew the effect of his own size; Roslin knew how a bitch like the dork-Dobie couldn't hope to stay composed, rubbing dicks with a beefcake. Their confidence, his surrender, intertwined; the scent of bleach and lemons couldn't hope to bring them down from the clouds.

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Somewhere inbetween - his feet shuffling lazily - Maurice was on the prowl for clouds of his own, or at least a point where he could light them up. He'd forgotten how austere Fossey High was built, contrasting his own school; more subdued, almost made to prep the students for a whitewashed society. So it was cleaner, aesthetically; but by the same token, every corner and door blended in, not a one seeming any more 'homey' or private. He turned his head, back past the concrete walls to who and what he'd left; it was a combo of factors, making this necessity. Shuffling past another classroom; another row of lockers; more enclaves inhospitable for peace of mind. He wondered how long he could go, before Ponch thought on what he'd already known of his employee and friend, and put two and two together.

The ponytail swung; as if by grace, Maurice's neck had focused him to a door handle, forty paces ahead and too clinical to be a classroom. He picked up a sort of ambience; and assumed the faint shouting was more hubbub from the graduating posse. A smile drifted up his face, his stroll became a walk, and his middle-aged fingers pried into the imperative pocket. No one around; no one to see him pull the joint, stuck between two digits, wrapped so expert it bulged symmetrical; nor the lighter he produced to follow-up. One last instinctual peer, around in each direction; he knew, and mumbled low, weak and scratching. "Sorry to exclude you, friend. But if school property's a line you won't cross..." The distance to the door had been halved; he chuckled, to lay on the cusp of breaking tension. "... I'll just partake of the gap between us-"

The last pair of words trailed off. Something kept him walking, though it'd started to occur to him; the noise was only strengthening, the closer he traipsed. Fifteen paces back, he could no longer avoid knowing... Whatever the room may be, it wasn't vacant, nor calm by the type of sound.

Five more paces, he recognized the voices; his smile turned on itself. Five more after that, and he wouldn't have to guess what was on the menu beyond. It so startled him, so removed his guard, he'd gave no second thought to what his hands still held... And the moment he grabbed the handle, swung it down and yanked open the door, the trio flash-freezing in front of him put all six eyes to his carry-on.

And mandrill counselor went from shock, to mild anger, to catching what they stared on. His eyes drifted down; fur at his neck stood on end. He, like the ape, dog and Komodo, knew exactly what the fattie was there for.

Tremors swept across Maurice's tie-dye... His mouth opened, to start at least five different speeches. "I don't know how you-... B-boys, the trouble you'll be-... You're in no place to judge-..."

Gradually, he allowed himself to go limp... Every word was a lost cause. Roslin cackled; just as Maurice hadn't hid his shame, neither had they concealed theirs. Will - already setting a plan - pounced on his gift of logic. "And you've a fork in the road here. Break us up, bring authorities and make this night a disaster..." He'd been deep inside Blake; he pulled out just enough of that huge rod to manipulate. "... Or quell the stun, bring that groove inside and catch some fun."

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Applause carried in the dry auditorium. Fenton blocked it out - how it played up the headache he was nursing - and cleared his throat. The next name on his list was short; not really helping, as he strained anyway to recant it.

"J-...-Jenny Rail!"

From behind the curtain hopped a flightless bird. He stepped forth, and Fenton faked a smile to hand off the diploma. 'Jenny' took it, begrugingly, and the look he cast to Wolverine would suggest not all was well.

"It's Gene."

The principal's smile flew the coop. Slowly, his palm wrapped the diploma, repossessing gently from Gene. Fully out of bird's hand and into mammal's, it was raised in a blur, and brought to thwack the rail on his cheek. It appeared playful; the crowd of parents lent encouraging laughter. The impact itself was a wee bit stiffer than slapstick; Gene reached up, a reflex to rub the pain.

"And it's nice to see you're tolerant." Wolverine began cordially; with more-than-a-nudge to send Gene to the group, he ended growling. "NowGIToverthere."

The rail walked to his place; realizing he'd been sent without his paper, he was turning to ask if he'd get it back, just in time for the principal's toss to ricochet between his eyes.

The parents went wild; hoots and howls of all different pitches, rather scarring their target. It had Ponch's attention... Barely. After so much time of nothing, students just rolled out to be acclaimed without a hitch, he'd left his frog hands in his lap, and his eyelids to droop. Even laughs seem to mellow around him, while the room darkened. To some degree, everything went faintly quiet...

... And he jarred himself awake, rapid-fire blinking, sitting up and praying no one knew.

To sit and watch was more his burden than the kids above, halfway up the aisle. At least Adam could joke and pal around with two peers, forgetting Jake's puff-up or his own junior penguin suit; Windsor had his father in arm's reach, and when he ran dry of talking points for the human or monkey, he'd lean down and converse on what they may. Pixiefrog sat still, despondent, battling the urge to have dreams entertain him. When it seemed that more waiting was impossible, sans the presence of Maurice, he let off a slight murmur; half in boredom, half in cautionary brainstorm. "Either he has kidney failure, and he's hooked himself to a dialysis machine..." His chin dipped; a pair of thick frog eyebrows formed stern. "... Or I've played the fool." He gazed to the door, by which the mandrill had excused himself; not cause enough to get up, but a worry still hatched within him. "If he thinks it's right to go and check on those imps... I wish he listened to me. I'd swear on my cummerbund, tonight they'll be as harmless as a breeze..."

The students came in alphabetical order, save for one exception; their valedictorian, soul on which alumni's trust and hope had been affixed, would round out the night. The name of 'Silverback' was due to be entwined with school history; and with all else down to the 'R's, time crept up on his moment to inspire.

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Fifty feet away, the only thing he'd changed was position.

His hands had left the bar, thanks to foresight, with a few new cracks in the plaster surrounding. It was one of two material shifts in their closet; at one end had sat a folded wood table, packed away for time of need. It was stronger than it looked, to now support a 280-pound Komodo, whose tail curved out and down the table's edgemolding. Its free half flayed and swayed in front of Will's beefed legs; at its root, in a jade scaly ass, primate's cock worked up and in; his teammate wasn't moist like Blake, but he was tighter.

And the Dobie's squeal was history, as he kneeled, working someone other than the ape who'd split his hole. One hand prodded under his own tail, fingering where Will had fucked him raw; the other wrapped tight on his canine knot, rubbing and squeezing its rigid swell.

Will's grin reached its max, and not strictly for the smoke trailing off a joint in his giant fingers; but looking down to his own naked jockbud, lying pecs-and-gut up on the table, rocking it to take Will's pipe harder every thrust. Then to Roslin's face; all the ape saw was chin, with reptile gums reaching to clasp and suck a second primate. Maurice stood shorter than Will, but in that moment was made of no less ego; hard to feel otherwise, with a huge athletic herp resigned and blowing him, putting plated chops to great, deep use. And the mandrill's best feature - the famed, majestic colours of his lower cheeks - had a dork dog's face buried, flicking tongue just deep enough in musky cave to wick pleasure through his every nerve.

Will saw clearly on the counselor's face; he'd been paid fully back for his decision, and they were only just arranged. Will's arm sped the joint back to his lips; he took his third drag to have it glow at the tip, while an ooze of manly clear escaped his own; Roslin's rear had a smooth, tough ride. The joint was lowered; he put eyes to the ceiling and closed them, just focusing. The 'high' had swept over, increasing; enhancing every punch he put to lizard's hole, while Roslin did all to buck back into him. Neither ran the show; by their brawn combined, they shared power like they shared each other's private stock.

Will would miss Roslin's head, popping mandrill's cock free and leaning up with a look of disdain; but he would hear the power uke's indictment. "You gonna... Bogart it, chum?"

The most confident laugh; Will's voice was even lower than usual, on cloud nine and plugging number-34. "Big talk, bitch. You let me bogart this crevice..." Shifting knees, he drove every inch up into Roslin, putting both to a bolt of reaction, rumbling twitch and moans. Maurice stared down, his jaw agape to see two manly bastions just lay into one another; his lighter voice threw a wail, with Blake's muzzle right where it worked best. Somehow the time had suspended; he didn't process the sight of Will handing off the joint, having Roslin catch it shakily, working through how they shook the table and each other. Blake was to blame; tossing his shovel-of-a-tongue through Mandrill's pucker, down to a whine that sent shudders up the counselor's chest; rejoicing in the older man's taste, near to how that senior perv would gasp in his bliss.

Roslin took a first hit; holding it deep, bulging an air-paunch to his dry, unsweating abs. He chose exactly where to blow it; right on mandrill's tool, a stream of grey, rocketing mild warmth past his flesh. That alone could be rich for a trick, as Will evidenced by snicker; but Roslin heeded the two-toke rule. His second, he held deeper, and pushed lips back down the mandrill's six-and-a-half. With a few hard sucks so it would be at its hardest, he expelled from his lungs, straight into his closed maw. Smoke surrounded Maurice, on that area; warm, thick and tingling. Such a sensory moment, his wail invoked a wavering note; and only went less steady, with a strong, forked tongue sliding on his warm-blooded unit.

With the joint floating up, handed off from lizard to mandrill, Will showed what else he had to say for Roslin's charge... It could only follow a groan. "Orghhh... Think I don't feel that prostate swoon when I pass? " He was primal; so much length sprung into Roslin's hole like a blade being sheathed, fast and impossibly forced. And what he'd named was fact; he could feel his wide-receiver throb, not just in the seven-inch green rod that slinked up his core, but the well-buried inner gland, made to give toward the cause of a peak. And Will's tight-cut member led example; pulsing strongest, rock-hard in every streamlined inch that bashed his fieldmate. "... Fuu-u-uckyeahh, pay it forward... Shake that whole chassis around me..."

The reptile obeyed; bucking harder into his 'captain', like his own ass hungered for Will. Heavy breaths were constant for the herp; rising in his abs, putting pecs and their dark green buds to a shudder, on top of Will's barrage. It was somewhat a rivalry; whose form was more muscled, which was more solid and resisting how their action shook each to the core. Two men of varsity prowess, taking mutual advantage.

For Maurice to take it in, understanding it, he barely thought of the greenery he'd lifted to his mouth; his middle-aged lungs drew a hit and held. There was challenge, though not for the smoke itself; but for Blake, shoveling his tongue through the elder's hind, lapping at sweet fleshy musk. He spoke more wails than words, in a time like this, but in his mind it was right to let him know. "Oh-hh your hole..." He trilled, diving in the colours. "Feel good when I toss it around? " He had less a way with words than Will; but still won to have Maurice gasp, shiver and push a stiff nod. The smoke was released; it flew up and down with the mandrill's positive input, as he took to rolling his hind, teasing the subby dog with technicolour. The dog praised on, lick-and-push, but had one last impulse to expose; lifting the hand from his own hole, and just skimming the reds and blues. "It's gorgeous..."

"Ohp, Do-boy's bought a new crush." Will quipped, as Maurice took his second half-stable toke. The joint was nearly cashed; he took the liberty to snatch it from Maurice, swift and cool, and kill the remainder. Throughout, he shoved steadily; reddening Roslin's tunnel, centered on the sound of Maurice whining while the lizard jock sucked hard and swirled his forked tongue. When the spliff had burned down to finger-danger, Will licked the tip of his other digits and snuffed it; he thought a fleeting time to maybe toss it back, but it was crazy to think Maurice would catch it. So it was popped in his mouth, swallowed whole; and grinning wide, he put all focus back on-task. The steady fuck became a rough assault; for as blushed as Roslin's hole had been made, its tender access only took more punishing.

Will watched himself; taking pride in the scenery, taking on a butch teammate and owning him, reeling back his monster tool just to stab it back in and put another wave through Roslin's beef. It was worth a sneer, and a "Yeeeahhh "; all he had, and all he could have at a second's notice. He could've leered at his own work all day; but in his upper peripheral, Maurice so obviously shared the ogling. Will hadn't forgot him; and with the knowledge that peak was approaching, it was time for one-on-one. He tilted head up; the seven full tokes he'd imbibed had his every word lazy, but unslurred. "Can't hide it. You're damn-glad you made the choice."

Mandrill and gorilla exchanged stares, their eyelids low with the trip. Maurice owned the higer voice; but if anything, he infused it with even more carnality. "His mouth... It's like... Nothing else..."

"Yeah, you see what practice on me bears..." The smile wouldn't wane. "... So think of who gets more, and what he's like..." He'd reached overdrive; the point where every push would bless a tingle on his inches, forbid him not to go on. "Ohh-hhgoddamn..." More separate shoves, with a word spoken for each. "Spoil... This... Fuckin'... Ass..."

"You... You're..." Maurice shook head-to-toe, feeling Blake, feeling Roslin, but utterly immersed in Will. The brick wall of ape, inside Roslin to the base of his huge pipe, purely butch and instinctually dominating. "... A fucking pornstar..."

"Heeell-yeeeahh," Will agreed; it invigorated shoves even further, until Roslin had no choice but to whine on mandrill's cock. The sound, and Maurice shivering even more, had Blake nuzzle deeper, pushing canid tongue as far as it could plunge. And on that note, Will flashed back, years in the past to when they walked the same halls. He tipped a nod to Maurice, smugly gaining attention. "It's all coming back to you..."

Maurice gave a second struggling head-yes. What he'd heard of Will since the quarterback's youth, what reputation was built, he'd never squashed the curiosity to see firsthand. And now, in Will's adulthood, it was fated. "... Ponch was right... All the students... Were right..."

For Will, it was too delectable not to humour more. "Did they say how hard I hit?" He gave visual aid; just firing himself like a bullet up Roslin's hole, putting both to 'UNNHH's. His neck craned up, thick and sturdy; the sensation was ungodly-incredible.

Maurice was far from conscious thought; he could only sigh, wiggle toes where they stood and throat a weak "Y-yeesss..."

Will did barely less than cackle; pulling out, admiring his own size. "They say how fuckin' huge I pack? " He pushed it up past Roslin's tail; flaunting its girth and reach, before sinking back down, going deep. His force, the speed, had bottles on the shelf above rattling.

"Yeeeeeahhhhh..." Maurice moaned, so captive in the show.

Will had taken the honours; he was strongest, largest, and the highest of all four; and now had learned he'd be the first to peak. His plump sack, so far beating on a scaly tail's smooth underside, drew into him. The overload began, from his balls to his dick; and then, it was felt through every square inch of him, euphoria for every muscle. He groaned; louder, higher, and before it could climax, he threw Maurice one last bone. "Fuuuck, I'm goin'... Oh shiiit, they ever tell you... How I blow?"

Maurice shook his head; this wasn't weak, but fervent, all for how he melted in arousal. Roslin sucked him to the base; Blake's nose prodded his anus, and tongue stuck in crucially far. But they would skip one delight; only Maurice was poised to watch the show.

It wouldn't delay. Will's groans still heightened; it took so long just to build up within him. He bashed Roslin's hole; the table rocked a full foot. Gorilla's head tilted down, his teeth gnashed, his paunch drew in to flat. "Ohhhhshit, Ohhhereitcooomes-"

No further warning. He yanked out of Roslin, unconcerned with what pain it gave the lizard. Though Roslin was instantly in agony, he thrived on it; and on the audio, as Will pushed his monster against him, pointed to the sky, and took murderous climax.

"FUUUUUUUUUCK!!! "

A thrust pushed into the air; the first rope was vertical, and the room itself darkened, for a slug of white to glaze the light bulb ten feet above. Will screamed and bent and rolled every shred of his core, shooting cannons of white, drenching Roslin's torso with alpha male's seed. "SHIIIIT... OHFUUUUCK... OHHHH-H-HHHH... GOOOOD-...-DAAAAMNN..."

His mouth gaped; the roars rattled six other ears. His hands kept on Roslin, the scaly thickness of ass cheeks; so on every shot, eight rigid inches pulled their visual bounce. For Maurice, it was so easy to see Will's climax, the very place it stood happening... And the unyielding power in-view had him on the way. Blake's whines pitched up behind him; had he looked down, he would've watched the ground be splattered with Dobie cream, spurts from a shining knot.

But Will meant elsewise than to waste every load on the air. Only halfway-done, still sending meter-long streams of hot jizz, he recoiled and shoved that giant back into Roslin. The wide-receiver seized in both legs, belting out his moans; soreness was intense, but more than that was the bliss. As little mercy as Will would show him working towards the peak, in-situ he was so much more than brutal. Digging in, fighting its tightness like he meant to knock it out; having mandrill's eyes trained while he injected, filled his teammate with sperm. Even in his phrase, one could hear the beast just come out of him. "FUCKIN'... BOSS of you... That hole's just... Drinkin' it..." The peak, and his tone, passed the crest of their mountain; but he shoved in hard as ever, feeling Roslin start his telltale clinch. "Heheh, gonna shoot... Gonna... Follow me to glory..."

The Komodo shuddered, whipping tongue on Mandrill's tip to sip its pre. Huge green arms flexed; his pucker did no different, with Will still inside it and basting him. Just when Maurice could barely hold together - Just when Will put in the last few ropes, and a dribble of white was all remaining, Roslin's moment kicked in. His stomach - flatter than Will's - went concave in how the climax overrode him, and groans sent vibration deep down Mandrill's rod. Lizard's dick filled out, rigid root-to-tip... Will's sneer took on another "Yeeeahh ", to watch his buddy pop the first rope, and glaze his own scaled core on top of all the cream Will had shot.

More came behind it; Roslin lurched on every pump, bringing out the sheer tone of his torso, even under gallons of spunk. The Komodo was no wizard - at least compared to one monkey - but stayed true and steady on Maurice, sucking and loving on his pipe while his own shot cupfulls for him. Directly, the Mandrill's control had to crumble; Roslin's peak slowed to a drip, oozing down his head, and the Mandrill barely knew Will was speaking. "Your turn for heaven. Get it, oldtimer... Quench his fuckin' thirst..."

All it took was for Maurice to see the lizard's core, a floor of muscle just marinated with cum; then to watch Roslin's arms move, and hands slide over the mess, relishing the texture and heat. And to think of what he'd seen from Will... To know the popularity, what inspired it... What deserved it... Maybe even Jerr, who surely earned his own accolades...

"Ohhh... Ohhhh... CHRIIIIIST..."

Thick gobs streamed down Roslin's throat; Mandrill's gut wobbled, giving up one hell of a sum. Roslin learned just how backed-up he'd been; it seemed to never stop running past his tongue, while he sucked it dry, regarding the sound of airy mewls. A few flinches came over him, and a pained wince; Will, well-released and thoroughly conceited, took the beast he'd used to break his teammate - still as stiff and unyielding - and with a closed fist, bounced it on the swelling, sore hole. Breath still halfway-heavy, eyes still flashing his arrogance. "Yeeaaahh, hombrè. Teach the teacher... Show him what a man can do... While your abs drip my fuckin' jizz..." He punched his dick again, onto the tenderness; Roslin muffled wimpers, tightened every muscle in his legs, mixed in his ears the chuckle of Will and the peaking moans of Maurice... Puddles hit the floor on each side of him, Will's cum and his own, dribbling off his flesh's many edges.

Blake had felt the tightness in their newcomer; it nearly cut off circulation in his tongue, to flog Maurice's entry while it drew taut around him. But slowly - enduringly - the shaking and groans would erode, and expire. He trailed to a gentle lick, curling over that rear's colour; an affection, a gratitude for letting him taste. The last to cross that line, the eldest, had unloaded... Lips trembling, ponytail as well, striving to comprehend the pleasure. It went on; with Roslin not retreating, only chubbing back up to run his hands on himself, the cream-flooded core. Will simply leaned and fell back, letting the wall catch him; he had no power to stop smiling; not to feel past the last of his climax, even catching his breath. Had he not been high, it would still have been a while, just to come down from a mind-shaking orgasm. What else to do but go limp, and let it be his focus; watching lazily, silently, the lizard who at last drew off Maurice's cock - one loud, punctuating slurp, to which the mandrill groan-sighed - and lifted each claw to his mouth, making a feast of what had covered him.

Time stood still; Will and Maurice stood, Blake stayed in a kneel, nosing through the technicolour crack. Roslin licked away the last of their loads; the tongue that coiled around his finger took its last gloss of white. Mandrill was first to think of something to say; but just before it would've come out, Will preempted him, suave and lax. "Alright, flower-child, come clean... When's the last you had a session like this."

Counselor's lungs drew in breath; they would still push out a snicker and retry before he answered. "Well never, like this." Will chuckled, showing teeth; Maurice continued. "But the last time I had fun to this height... Geez, it's failing me to think of one."

Will's back came off the wall; strolling over, he approached Maurice, looked down to Roslin, and chucked the latter's chin. "Say some thanks to my second-on-field, here. Might not be the apex, but he'll do you right, any notice."

Roslin rolled eyes for the backhanded compliment. "Don't you wish you had the apex, right here." Will crossed arms; they sank over the sweat of his pecs. "He's around. I just wish I could see him cure the douchebag..." He looked to Maurice, and saw the slight confusion. "... Pardon, I mean what made him absent here. Unfinished business."

Blake piped in, unrequestedly. "Well I dunno about him, but we finished our business." He didn't get the reaction he'd hoped for; that is to say, any.

Will's attention went to Mandrill. "Sorry we repelled, way back when. But it's for the best..." He gave his neck a purposed tilt. "... Just 'cause we were early, won't mean you'd have the best from the outset." Will's chest somewhat puffed out; he saw himself as like a batch of wine. And with how he'd beefed up, grown stronger and larger all the way to his nineteenth year, he wasn't off the mark.

Maurice stood tall and still; having Will close enough to smell, and feel the heat from him, didn't foster concentration. "I didn't want... Y'know, jail... But I always wondered..."

"Yeah... And when we passed, I always knew." A short moment had their eyes locked... ... Only short for Mandrill's brain kicking halfway into gear, and pushing a reminder to the forefront. "... SHIT, we're dawdling. You have somewhere to be."

One side of Will's mouth blew a puff of air. "I'm the val'... Nothing transpires until I'm there." Roslin leaned up; he felt heavier, at least around the stomach. Licking lips, he began with sarcasm. "So much for washin' the wall, huh."

Will peered down the corner of his eye; and straightaway, feeling something else, he met sarcasm with slyness. "Not entirely. If I'm to make a speech, I'd better know it won't be stopping me."

Maurice spoke to him; straight to the chest, level with his head. "What won't stop you?"

It appeared the gorilla would never have cause to quit his grin. "You had much in the way of beverages tonight?"

"Well... I mixed a hot toddy before Ponch drove me here..."

"Grab your clothes and follow."

****************************************************************************************************

Fenton's legs were failing him; the podium itself was all that helped him stand, at the cost of his appearance. To lean both arms firm on its topside, meant many parents saw him like a climber scrambling up a cliff... To the group of graduated students across from him, he looked just like what he was; seven shades of desperate.

"Mohammed Yellowtail-Swallow," He rumbled, and the bird's wide feet carried him through the curtain. Perhaps the most challenging name of the night, and to say it halfway-well put a vigor back in Fenton's delivery. He passed the paper to the svelte teen, and returned to the list. His pupils dilated; he would've clicked his heels, but liquid courage forebade. "And the final, cherished name of the night. Our Diane Fossey Valedictorian of 2013, William Kenneth Silverback!"

Gecko had slipped back behind the heavy curtain, to newly-empty backstage. His certificate stuck up in a roll from his jeans pocket, like a stiff gun emerging from his hip. A few quick glances around weren't helping him. "Goddamn this ssshit, get back already!"

No reply; no monkey nor gorilla nearby, to accept the scorn he intended them. Huffing bulged out his chest; not a clue of where they were in the maze beyond the chamber, and attacked with anxiety. "The ssschool pride'sss on the line, and you're trading blowsss in the corridor..."

Timing seemed to conspire for him. Faint running footsteps pricked his ear, and in only seconds, Jerr's toes-to-tail had strolled through the hall access.

Gecko's jaw dropped; his tongue rolled out, an accidental red carpet. "You're in one pieccce..." He looked straight to the new addition; wet spots on Jerr's collar, right around where his neck fur would sit against the gown. "... Where'ss the buffoon?"

Jerr's neck swayed, with a smirk pushing through; he started smoothly enough. "I..."

A squirrel, and a head of green hair, whizzed by him; running close-on to a certain 'roo's average. Spidermonkey's eyes danced in a daze, and he'd almost looked to where his pal was going, before the brick-wall-of-boar shook the floorboards underneath, sprinting in dead-heat chase. Around three seconds later, Jerr came back to himself, raised an eyebrow and lifted tiniest shrug. "We had a good, long talk on the dangers of projecting." His pleasure reshown. "I shoulda signed up for debate team. Hella fine to persuade."

Gecko's tension dropped, as did his countenance. It answered half of what he'd wanted to see. "And ssso he'ss nowww...?"

"On the horn with his folks. Last I overheard, he was slingin' cool news."

Gecko pursed lips; on the spot, something else occurred to him. "You didn't passs Will? It'ss his turn to be up..."

"Negatory." Jerr may've 'sobered up' - in a way apart from Wolverine, who swam far from hope to be such - but the concern still wasn't there.

That is, until Gecko updated him. "... Wolverine's ssstalling. You can't closse the night without the sspeech, it's in the bullshit brochures."

Jerr's smirk imploded. He turned an ear to the hullabaloo outside:

"And though he'll be here shortly, I'd imagine you're restless. Well I can tell you why, fine ladies and gents of Franklin county, it's how we develop the assets we're given. Not just what we get through your pocketbooks, but the walking, talking time capsules of the future... That is to say, one day they'll be the time capsules of the work we've done here. In this time, now I mean..."

Jerr's face was entirely disgusted. "Dude could have Smirnoff ship to his house, straight-up." He sped through a wheel of expressions; disdain, then cutting eyes slyly sideward, then energized by what inspired him. "Well then... I can think o' better dopes to be buyin' Will time. I'll be damned if I make him follow King-Coma-the-first."

The gecko knew on-sight what he'd taken it upon himself to do. Before Jerr could even walk out, he lit a spark in his eye; all he knew to do, wishing his monkey bud discretion and charisma. Jerr stomped out; By now, half the audience could barely say what sentence he interrupted. Before the curtain even stopped moving, he'd slapped Fenton on the back and edged in next to him. "Check it... No offense, O' mogul, but you've rode enough on the sandman's coattails, if you see what I'm sayin'."

At an instant, all energy in the house was directed to him; widening eyes, spotty shock, the revived attention of hundreds. Jake's wonderment, along with human and gorilla boys, and then his own personal honour. And of course, Fenton's show of the most tipsy sort of rage. Fists balled up; forgetting the weakness within them, he tried one single shove. Jerr's toeclaws dug into the oak; he wasn't going anywhere. "Play nice, junior. So, who's ready for the effin' endcap, and gettin' back to your lives? Now that it's a change comin' over."

Jake was numb to the itch; darting feet up on the chair, he stood high; his distended swell threatening his human best friend. "That's my bro!" Enthusiasm beamed...

... Jerr's reaction more-sidled up with cringing; he held one hand above as a shield, to check the house lights weren't screwing with his sightline. "Christ, is there an Epipen in the house?"

If Jake's ego were a balloon, hearing that was the pin. His forehead crinkled; face paled, and his weight simply drifted down in the seat. Adam and Windsor, stalling concern, found some comfort in watching Jake's energy dissolve; semi-cathartic to watch him lift the corduroy collar, then try to duck in his head.

Jerr also shed his worry; seeing Jake 'act' gave some easement. Fenton stood back; his half-conscious choice was to watch Jerr derail them, and skewer himself in the process. Even shitfaced, there was something he knew; and it would soon reveal for everyone. Jerr took fast to the mike, unsuspecting, and stole away the role of time-buyer. " 'Kay, chicks and fat dicks, we know there's a delay, but cool out. I, as Will's righthand rep, can say he's here in a minute. But before you let him into ya minds, I got a few thanks o' my own. I mean, teachers in the crowd, here..." He held out an arm, sweeping hand to the front row: many of the faculty, half with their career's bags under the eyes, and Ponch seated behind their approximate center. " 'Scuse the hamfist, but they're the reason for the season. All they do, every year, to get us revved..."

At least some of the crowd suspected he'd start naming one-by-one; those who knew him enough to know his mind, and guess where it led. The blue of his eyes went to the first dignitary; a sea lion, red pompadour, thin moustache and checkered jacket. "Lei-Yu, literary scientist, rock star o' hardcovers. The books you lined up for us were dynamite. Inspiring. Like the skin around your thigh..." He'd slowed down a tad.

The sea lion's cheeks went grey-to-pink. Jerr's tongue pushed on his lower lip. Hundreds of faces, fixed in dead silence.

Jerr worked fast; on to the next in-line, and this one had him tested. A taller, gourdish elk, in a tight grey tee, coach of Will's team. He carried jowls of steel, loose brawn, the sturdiest frame of any nearby man above forty. "Coach Reynolds, turf-master and commander. I know Will thinks highly o' your pep talks under the bleachers." The push by tongue to launch out of him grew to full-blown war. "He ain't alone."

The spidermonkey sent his due; three seconds just to keep his gaze there, and nudge his hips up to the podium; hiding throbs in his southlands, with Reynolds only smirking sans-shame to remember. Then he chanced to see the next-in-line... The prim, elegant tapir, in cat-eye glasses and a green flowing chimney dress.

His pelvis limpened.

She outclassed her peers; the sole instructor with a perfect record, no fail's in her class of thirty. Even more familiar to those not in study of Algebra, for how she tutored on the side. Kind, approachable, professional, an angel of learning.

Jerr's detached mutter hit the mike. "Deb'... Whats'erface. You were there, I guess, have a good life."

Adam knew Jake; Adam knew his brother. So he was first to snort, then cackle, then bust his gut laughing for the snub. Windsor restrained guffaws; his father, though awaiting the firstborn, hardly differed.

Ponch sighed faithlessly; unlike Maurice, many things weren't gladly brought to his remembrance.

Jake wished to be annhilated. Fenton wished to have his chance, and break the news.

One-hundred-ninety-four around them wished to see that gorilla. They would all show patience, most of all his limber wingman.

The air smelled of chair grease and promise.

To be panderingly concluded...