FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

One's Learned Preferences

Part 1

For Dreixes

By Draconicon

Sibylle Weber was the second of her family to attend the University of Open Minds, with her aunt having been the first. The Alpine Ibex had been informed by her free-wheeling aunt that it would be a very different experience for her, but she had to admit, the last six months had been eye-opening to say the least.

The Ibex sat on the steps of the UOM Conference Hall, knowing that she'd have to go inside before long, but not entirely ready for it. The school uniform, one that all first-years had to wear until they 'earned' the right to wear anything out of code during their second year, draped over her in a less than flattering manner. Females were given gowns that ran down to their knees, long and draping, and while the bigger species were able to make them look good with thicker hips and, well, a larger chest than Sibylle had to her name, it took away most of hers.

Not that she minded, most of the time. Despite some UOM's reputation - and the warnings her aunt had given her - she'd come here to look for ways to open her mind. The other students, however -

Whoop, whoop.

The familiar warning siren of campus security shattered the chatter and laughter at the bottom of the steps, and a Doberman stepped off his bike. The crowd - mostly first years in first-year green and gold, with the males in shorts and button-up shirts and the females in the same sort of draping dress as her - scattered, leaving the source of the disturbance standing completely exposed. The buck in question was naked, save for a green-gold cock-ring around his sheath, pushing his equipment forward and leaving him even more exposed than usual.

Sibylle watched out of the corner of her eye as the Doberman shook his head, spinning a set of handcuffs around his fingers.

"Harold, you need to stop doing this," the security officer said.

"Come on. It's all for sociological studies. Exhibitionism as a part of maintaining dominance?"

"Yeah, yeah. You can try and sell that one to your professor and the dean. Come on; let's go."

"Aw, man...couldn't you at least use the rubber handcuffs?"

"You like those. Come on."

Sibylle watched with bright red cheeks and, admittedly, more interest than merely the academic. There was something about watching someone getting led off in the buff that was still thrilling, despite seeing scenes like that all the time.

UOM classes fit the university they were taught by. If you didn't have an open mind, some of them could be downright offensive, if not actually degrading, but if you were willing to look past the surface and see them for what they were, they turned out rather enlightening. After all, where else would one learn about the different cultural expectations of gender roles in the bedroom and how that filtered through into societal places? Where else would you learn how the creation of leather and its application on different persons actually affected how they were perceived in history and in their day? Where else would you find someone just walking around naked for a genuine piece of homework?

She had every reason to believe that the buck - Harold - had been in the middle of a genuine homework assignment, though she doubted that the professor had intended for him to take it that far, or that public. For all that the second-year electives were sensual at times, she had yet to hear of a professor actually assigning naked runs or projects that involved students fucking each other.

Though that would be interesting.

Sibylle shook her head, blushing as she pushed that thought out of her head. The crowd was slowly filtering back, first-years like her walking up the stairs and walking into the Conference Hall to start the process of picking their electives. She sighed, giving her curled horns a nervous squeeze before getting to her feet and doing the same.

The Conference Hall was a long building, fashioned almost like it was the repurposed skeleton of an old cathedral. Tall windows graced the sides, casting stained pools of light down the main corridor. Sibylle's eyes danced along the tables set up at the sides, looking at the pennants and posters that they had set up for the different elective courses. Half the hall was dedicated to the usual topics, ranging from the various branches of philosophy to geographical studies to history and high-level mathematics, and the other half...

Well, that was where things got interesting.

Divided right down the middle by a red carpet, the Conference Hall had the 'clean' electives and the sexual ones on opposite sides. The standard electives did not put that much effort into attracting students. Sibylle, like all other students, would have to take a minimum of one each semester, anyway, so it was less about attracting the students and more about ensuring that they went to the classes that served their degree best. More to the point, they were little different to the other schools out there, and so they didn't try that hard to differentiate themselves.

The sexual side, however, was...explicit. There was a class about the impact of footwear and cultural barefooting through history, with the professor in question sitting down with her feet up on the table. There was a desk labeled 'The Regulations of Society Versus the Rules of BDSM: How Different Are They?' with an orca standing behind it, and only a hard look proved that he wore something rubber rather than something more fabric-based.

The list went on, offering various different classes that were enough to send the blood rushing to her face. Her aunt had mentioned that they were more open here, but she had never imagined that they were this much more open compared to the rest of the academic world. She kept reaching back and pulling on one horn and then the other, unable to help herself as she imagined taking these classes. It would be fascinating, and some part of her was more than willing to put herself out there and learn - and even experience, if some of the stories they put out about the second year were true - but the remaining bits of modesty bred in by society refused to let loose.

She was about to give up and cross over to the standard electives when something caught her attention. Several somethings, as a matter of fact, crossing the borders of several senses. The first was a strange scent, one that was at once almost oppressive while also being enticing. It was a heady, salty, almost bitter scent, yet, oddly pleasant the more that she breathed it in. The closest thing that she could think of to describe it was the swampy, humid smell from one of her biodiversity biology classes earlier in the semester, when they had taken a trip down to the local swamps to observe the wildlife there and how it had shifted over time based on historical records.

The second thing she noticed was the apparent source of it, a table at the far end of the sexual half of the hall. It was manned by a female rabbit and a male civet cat, and it took her a moment to realize that the latter was bound to a wheelchair. Just for that, she was curious, and found herself drifting down the hall in his direction.

They were currently in the process of pitching their class to two other females - one rabbit, one vixen - and the female behind the desk nodded at her as she approached. Sibylle nodded at the 'hush' gesture that she got, and reached for one of the pamphlets as the civet continued his chat with the others. They were speaking in German, as far as she could tell; it was the only language that some of the students spoke that had that sort of guttural deep-throat sounds that probably could have been spoken through a rather intense blowjob.

What is wrong with me? Sibylle thought, shaking her head and doing her best not to blush worse as she glanced at the pamphlet.

The class was Sexual Evolution 113, with promises of further, later modules for those that continued through to the next levels. She flicked it open, skimming through it. For one of the sexual pamphlets, it was surprisingly moderate. There were no scandalous images on display, none of the 'dangerous' corruptions of morals that some accused UOM of. It was just a general bullet-point detailing of the class, and rather to the point, at that.

Examination of biological diversity through time, evolution of sexual dimorphism between species, the effects of biological signals in the evolution of society and the rules therein...

All in all, the various classes were at least interesting from the theory point of view, though she didn't have any real idea how much the practical would intrude on the rest of the lessons. The pamphlet did fuck-all to tell her, too, which meant that she'd need to attend a class to find out for sure. She cocked her head to the side as she flipped the pamphlet over, checking the other side -

"Now, ma'am, how may we help you?" the civet cat asked, folding his hands over the desk.

"Hmm?" Sibylle blinked. "Oh, sorry. I was lost in my own head there, heh."

"A pleasant place to be lost in, I have no doubt. But there are others, far more pleasant, available. Professor Richter Hahn," he said, offering his hand.

"Good to meet you, Professor." She shook his hand, turning to the rabbit. "I'm Sibylle, and you are..."

"His wife. Gwyndolin Hahn," she said, taking the Ibex's hand and giving it a gentle shake. "Sorry for the delay, but we have to take care of everyone's needs, not just our own curiosities."

"That's alright. I don't mind."

"Now, young woman. How can we help you?" Richter asked.

"Oh, um...I was kind of curious about the different lessons you mention in the pamphlet," she said, holding it up and pointing to the inside. "I was kind of...I don't know. Expecting something more intense since you're on this side of the aisle."

"On the side of the debauched, you mean?" Richter said, the faint German accent in his voice making it sound slightly more mocking than she realized he probably meant it to.

"Well...yes. It seems pretty safely on the theoretical side of things, unless the practical goes further."

"It does, though not so far until the second module, which is required if you take the first."

"...That's odd."

"It is, but our material is worth it. Wouldn't you say, dear?" he asked, cocking his head at the rabbit.

"Oh, most definitely. We're a team for it this year; he brings the full science part of it, and I add in a certain amount of philosophical respectability for those that aren't entirely convinced," Gwyndolin said with a laugh.

"Well, that does...help." She looked at the pamphlet again. "But about the rest of it -"

"There's little that you need to worry about in the first semester," Richter said, shaking his head. "It is mostly theory, something that I am sure that most will have little trouble with. If you are interested in common evolutions of most species, something that is seldom talked about outside the UOM, I believe that this class will be most worth it to you. In fact, I recommend it highly."

There was something about the way that he said it that sent a chill down her spine, but at the same time, Sibylle would be the first to admit that she had little real attachment to any others. If this one was that recommended, she supposed she could start with Sexual Evolution. And more to the point, it sounded like the sort of class that would easily connect to the other electives, giving her a better grounding for the other subjects.

So, the Ibex leaned in, putting her name down to sign up. Professors Hahn smiled and nodded. The civet cat pressed a secondary pamphlet into her hands.

"The first classes start next week. Of course, most of the material will be covered during the lectures, but you may want to read these."

"Oh, you have a reading list?"

"Some. A few small tomes, which will also be discussed. I am curious how many students will actually read them before class, and which will put it off," he said with another small chuckle.

"Most of them, probably."

"Putting it off, or reading, Ms. Weber?"

"Oh, um, the first." She blushed. "Sorry. I should know better than that by now."

"It is university. We are here to learn," he said with a knowing nod.

"Thank you." She bowed her head. "Um, I'll be going now. I look forward to the first lesson."

"And I to teaching it."

The civet cat smiled once more, and she hustled away, her face red for some reason. Surely not for the debauched things that some of the classes were famous for in the more common social rumors. Surely not; she had hardly spoken to him yet, and she was certainly not fantasizing about him.

But still, there was that odd scent. That lively, bitter, yet heated scent oozed through the air, and she was half-sure that it coated her hand from the little reading list he'd pushed into her fingers.

Speaking of which...

#

"Late late late late!"

Sibylle had never been late to the first day of class, but she was about to put that particular black mark on her record. The Alpine Ibex ran as fast as her legs would carry her and her skirt would permit her across the grounds of UOM, but each step risked sending her flying head over heels, and that was not something that she needed right then.

Bad enough that she was wearing yesterday's clothes, and worse that she had needed to leave her dorm without the chance to get a shower. The fact that the lecture was due to start in two minutes and she hadn't even put the lecture hall in sight yet was far worse.

I knew I should have put that book down. I knew it.

And yet, she had been utterly fascinated by it, drawn in by the studies of how pheromones and the intricacies of how it affected the mind and interplay between species and genders had engaged her far more than she'd expected. Most of it was a theory of how history had played out, admittedly, but there were so many footnoted theories and studies that backed up the suppositions that were put into play.

The idea that some of these empires only lasted through pheromone manipulation in the courts, or that some of the famous marriages only worked because of unique interpretations of their pheromones by one another's biology...what else could actually be learned from that, these days?

It was a question that she hoped that the Professors Hahn would be able to answer. She kept running, almost stumbling around a corner as her shoes clicked hastily against the cobblestone that decorated the old grounds.

There. Just past the fountain was the lecture hall, and it was still open. She had just over a minute, and she was able to reach the top of the steps and throw herself through the door with five seconds to spare. She was red-faced, rather sweaty, and she tried to ignore how that threw her already-strong scent further off. Sibylle did her best to tune out the sweat-heat and salt-smell that came with it, hustling to one of the desks at the back of the room. She only hoped that nobody minded, and that the AC would come on soon enough to take some of the scent away.

She hoped in vain. As the minutes ticked by and the professors still hadn't shown up after nearly six minutes past the start time, the Ibex became more and more aware of the fact that it was all but sweltering in the classroom. The glass wall behind her meant that the heat was pouring in, and as it was her first time in this lecture hall, she hadn't realized that all the surfaces - floor, desk, and far wall apart from the whiteboard - were all painted black. The room was downright oppressive.

Glancing around, it was clear that she wasn't the only student that had pushed their luck getting here. Some of them had run harder than she had, and were just as drenched from their efforts. She tried not to stare at them, but she could see some vixens that had run in as if from a wet t-shirt contest, and a few others that were drenched from their heads to exposed shoulders. Shaking her head, she imagined what would have happened if she'd pushed herself any harder. Ugh.

Ten minutes past the start time, the lecture hall doors opened again, and the soft squeak of the wheelchair - as well as that strange scent from before - entered the room. Everyone looked back to see the civet cat and his rabbit wife stepping in.

Now that they were not so focused on other things, she took a moment to really look at the pair of them. Richter was a slender sort of man, the sort of slender where you genuinely worried that he might have been starved somehow. He kept his hands elegantly folded over his lap as he was pushed along, and he beamed, for lack of a better term, at the crowd of students. His cream-colored chin and dark-furred face led up to a series of barely-groomed strands of hair threatening to fall over his face, but he looked happy and good-natured despite that as he entered.

Gwyndolin, on the other hand, was genuinely surprising. Not only was she tall - very tall indeed for a rabbit, and certainly not only from the insanely high heels she was wearing - she seemed to be almost doll-like in the way that she moved and presented herself. Indeed, if not for one very obvious thing, she might have looked almost more like some sort of Barbie trophy wife than a person.

And that was her belly, swollen slightly in the early stages of pregnancy. She must have been sitting quite close to the table during the choosing of electives to hide that, but here? The rabbit looked like she was at the end of her third month, start of her fourth? It was quite the thing to see, all things considered, and a whole lot more than she had expected from the second professor for the course.

They took the long way around the lecture hall, following the ramp at the back and far side of the room. She almost felt sorry for the professor as he had to be led to the front of the hall, and even then, Gwyndolin stood at his side. As the professor shifted and shuffled, getting comfortable in his chair, the other professor cleared her throat and got all eyes on her. Sibylle admitted that the slight jiggle-bounce of rabbit breasts probably helped immensely with that.

"Alright, everyone. As it's the first day, we're not going to push you too far with this. Let's start with the basics. Coursework, syllabus, weekly structure, and grading," Gwyndolin said.

Sibylle did her best to pay attention. She honestly, really did, but there was something about the overheated room that made it very hard for the Ibex to focus. She kept leaning forward, resting her head on her palm, and every so often, she just dropped. Her head would slip off her hand, and she'd almost faceplant into her desk. She would have felt humiliated at that if it wasn't for the fact that, again, it was hardly just her that was suffering from it. The heat was getting to everyone, and even those species that were better at dealing with it - like the cheetah in the front row, and the lion just behind her - were groaning and nodding off as they listened.

Sibylle hoped that they weren't going to be in this sweltering hell of a hall for the rest of the semester. As interesting as the class promised to be with the reading list, she honestly wasn't sure what she would get out of it if she was falling asleep this easily. She almost fell out of her chair more than once, and she doubted that it was going to get easier as the seasons got warmer.

The only thing that really kept her from falling asleep was the odd sense of heat and warmth and scent in the room. It wasn't just the fact that she was catching that bitter smell - something that she was associating more and more with Professor Richter - but the fact that there were other smells around it, supplementing it, adding to it in a way that she had never been entirely aware of before.

Maybe the books were right?

Maybe, but she had been around most of the students in the hall before. It wasn't like she was a dog, either, something that was more sensitive to the scents of others.

But the way that pheromones work, I wouldn't have to be, she thought, mind still drifting. Yes, the closely related species are more compatible as a general rule, but only for the intended use of pheromones, for the way that they were designed. There are other reactions to pheromones, other triggers that can be pulled, and that might be the case. A specific sort of group, something too random to be anticipated, having different reactions to the pheromones that we release all the time, day in and day out, and as a result feeling...I don't know...something...

She felt like she had come close to stumbling onto some sort of realization, but she was so tired, and it was so hard for her to stay focused, and -

"And of course, that will account for 50% of your final grade."

That statement jerked more than half the class back to consciousness, and the rest only failed because they were already sleeping, head-down, on their desk. Sibylle was not the only one shouting in desperation for the rabbit to repeat what she'd just said, only for Gwyndolin to look over her shoulder at Richter, and the two of them shared a look that she understood too well.

Kids. What can you do?

"And this is why you still have to pay attention, everyone," Gwyndolin said, turning back to the class. "I understand that it's definitely harder here, but that's part of our designed course studies. My husband will explain in greater detail in a moment, but you will be studying a rigorously-designed combination of practicals and lectures. If you cannot focus, then you will not pass. I know that is a little unfair to those of us that have difficulties focusing in general, but that is the long and short of it. I will need you to pay attention if you want to get through this class, and that's all there is to it. Understand?"

"Yes, Professor Hahn," Sibylle said, echoing the rest of the class.

"Alright. Now, before I hand this back off to my husband, the part of the class that will account for 50% of your final grade will be the presentation at the end of the semester. We expect a full-fledged research paper and presentation based on the combined effects of two different sexual evolutions through time, presenting a thesis of what the two combined could have done to shape history, with supporting evidence of how this could have happened and what might have happened if it didn't.

"Some of you are already saying that this might not be fair, I'm sure, that it's too open to interpretation. I'm sure that some of you are worried that you will not be graded fairly on it because you can't guess what might have happened, only report on what has.

"As my husband would agree with me, that is why you are here. The world has many people that will remember what had happened before. There are endless records of that past. What we do here, both as part of UOM and as scholars in general, is look at what has happened and figure out what can happen next. What we aspire to is to open our minds, educate them, and put them to use pushing us forward. As such, all assignments from us will reflect that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," the class said.

"Good. Now, as stated, I hand you back to my husband. Dear?"

"Thank you, dear," the civet cat said. He wheeled himself to the back of the stage. "Now, as part of Sexual Evolutions 113, our first lecture is..."

He uncapped a marker and started drawing. Time felt...odd, because no sooner had he started than he seemed done, and Sibylle felt as if she had lost a few seconds. The cat tapped the board.

"Development and Classification of Musks in History and Modern Culture," Professor Richter said, putting the marker down. "Now, how many of you know what musk actually is?"

"Pheromones, sir," the lion behind her called out.

"We are merely giving a synonym with that answer, young man," the civet cat said, shaking his head. "Does someone else have a more correct answer?"

Sibylle raised her hand. As soon as the professor nodded, she rattled off her answer.

"Musk is an expression of intent from one biological being over territory, possessions, or mates. It can range from simple territorial marking, such as the pheromones and musk in urine, or to the more sexualized style used by wild animals to make a claim on a female when they are in season."

"Partially correct, but more correct than our original answer."

She smiled, even though there was a blush just under it. She'd honestly settle for partially correct at the moment, all things considered. There were so many other ways that it could be wrong that she was glad to get something right.

Yet, at the same time, the moment that she stopped talking, her focus threatened to drift off again. She was aware of things, and the professor's voice was one of them, the information coming sifting through her skull, but she was also so much more aware of other things.

Her body, for one, and the little lines of sweat running right down her back. The magnified heat from the glass pouring over the back of her neck and down her horns, making them feel like metal rods left in the sun, made her brain feel like it was baking. The distracting scent of her own sweat and the bits of other scents that were left from the day before in her uniform only made it worse.

And through it all, that oddly bitter smell that just refused to go away. Bitter, with a bit of spice to it now. Something different, something more intense, something...

Ugh. It was so hard to think. It was so much easier to space out, but she wanted to listen, to hear what the teacher was saying. She had to get it right next time, and that would only happen if she got the information down properly. There was no point in being here if she wasn't going to listen.

"As Ms. Weber said, 'musk' is a catch-all term for the chemicals emitted by a living being to indicate different statuses. The most common of these are 'heat' and 'rut'."

"I thought that only females had seasons," one lazy voice said from the front row.

"I am sure that bucks and elephants would be most happy to correct that impression," the professor said. Richter rolled around as he spoke. "Of course, these pheromones - for that is what they are, rather than just 'musk' and stink and other such things, as colloquial as they have become - are powerful, meant to entice others in the same species, but they are hardly the only means by which musk is used.

"As we have evolved from our feral ancestry, first to an upright form and then further, our use of pheromones changed, but they were never entirely lost. Even as technology rose throughout history, as distance was put between speakers with the advent of letters, telegraphs, telephones, and the modern wonders of the internet, there has always been something that has maintained a sense of the feral in all of us. There is a reason that we continue to prefer being in person with one another. There is an incompleteness in those of us that cannot receive or make ourselves clear on this most basic biological level.

"And it is this way of communication, this other means of speaking, that we will be studying to start out. For not only is this our ancient way of seeking mates, staking claims to territory, and even delivering threats, but it is present in our day to day interactions, as well as our way of making our most primal of desires clear to one another."

"In other words, class, facials and marking each other," Professor Gwyndolin said without a hint of embarrassment.

The class more than made up for that. The spit-takes that occurred were many, and Sibylle barely kept from doing the same. She knew that the class was meant to be somewhat sexual, but she hadn't expected it to take a turn that fast. Professor Gwyndolin chuckled, resting her head on her hand.

"We are very frank about our relationships, dears. My husband and I are very frank about what we enjoy. And I will be the first to admit that the power of a predator's pheromones over you as you lay beneath him, soaked in each other's sweat and...other fluids...is an aphrodisiac all its own. Your body, your core, remembers things that your educated brain has forgotten. And it is potent. Very, very potent."

"It may serve as a warding or invitation," Richter said, interjecting himself once more. "And in that service, it will also serve to show you things that you did not know about yourself. There are many uses of pheromones, sexual or otherwise, that may tell many things to the understanding mind. The things that you desire, or the things that you fear: both are obvious to those that know the signs to watch for. Your musk changes as your moods and thoughts do, tied to biology, influenced by the mind that pushes and directs it. It is genuinely fascinating."

It sounded it, and despite the embarrassment of the moment, Sibylle wondered what her own scent said at the moment. She thought she knew herself well enough to know what she wanted, what she was thinking about, but at the same time, the possibility of her body having a language that she'd need to learn to translate was...actually intriguing. She cocked her head to the side as she considered it.

By the time that she stopped thinking, the lecture had moved on. The Ibex blushed, shaking her head as she tried to bring her focus back to the moment.

"That will be sufficient for today, I think," Professor Hahn said, wheeling himself to the edge of the platform as his wife stepped up to help him. "Until we meet again, I expect you to take notice of the world around him. Take notice of the way that people act, study the way that the air changes around them, make notes of the differences between one encounter and another. Even without taking it to the practical, you can learn a great deal."

"And if we wanted to know more about the sexy kind of pheromones?"

Sibylle wasn't sure who asked about that, but she was glad that someone had. Even if the roots of her horns burned with embarrassment at the idea of someone actually answering her, she was glad that someone had asked the question that they all wanted the answer to.

Professor Richter looked back at his wife. She smiled, shrugging, and he smiled back.

"You think too much of them, dear," he muttered before turning to them. "Then, of course, it would be up to you to find out what you wanted to learn. However, as you are still in module 113, I will not be ordering any of your fellow students to cooperate with you. If you want to find out, find out the old-fashioned way. Go on dates, check out newspapers, arrange one-night stands. But if you do, and I hear that you've been using it as a means of getting into someone's pants, then I expect to see particularly fine reports from you as a result. The greater the experience, the more that I will expect from every single one of my students. Consider that your warning."

She hadn't expected the teacher to warn them against...she wasn't sure what he had warned them against. He hadn't told them not to have sex with each other to study how their scents changed during the act, and what it would do depending on their partner. Warned them against getting lazy? Against not taking the course seriously? That was certainly there, but -

Then he was passing by as the rabbit wheeled him along, and once more, she noticed that scent. Every time that it passed her, it was stronger than the last, and this time it was almost overpowering, so thick and heavy and warm that it almost made it feel like she was sweating between her thighs. The sensation was very different, very new, and...honestly, she kind of liked it. She just would have preferred to know what was causing it, aside from just knowing it was Professor Richter. He was responsible, no doubt about that, but just what was he responsible for?

Ugh. Another blank.

She shook her head, feeling like she was swimming through soup as she got to her feet. It was so hot and muggy within the lecture hall, and it took more effort than she anticipated to actually keep moving. The other students seemed likewise incapacitated, but she was already out of there, already thinking of other things, of her books and what she remembered of the lecture proper.

The way that pheromones interact between species...the social and cultural connotations of different pheromones...the way that one's 'musk' is interpreted differently from one culture and one biology to another...

So much to unpick there...so much to enjoy...

The End

Summary: A student at a very strange university signs up for a class about, well, musk, but not in the way that you might think.

Tags: F/solo, Odd Reality, Hyper Casual Sex, Casual Sex, Musk, Pheromones, Heat, Sweat, Civet Cat, Rabbit, Ibex, Series, Wet, Aroused, Wheelchair,