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Bunnybuns McSlutterton & Buckmeat Cummingsworth

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~ in ~

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Dance Academy Cockfest

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~ a Bond of Brothers Side Story ~

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Chapter 1

Sammael trotted through the winding, ancient streets of Stillwater Cove towards the Smithy Lane Stage Academy. It was an abutment to Stillwater College, the old town's high school, providing a variety of educational and training opportunities for youngsters pursuing careers in the performing arts. Sam remembered it well from his own enrolment there, several years prior, when he'd been a hormonal teenage stag struggling with his body image as puberty turned him from a petite spotty-arsed fawn into a broad-shouldered, antlered young adult. Now, at the age of twenty-six, his reason for attending the Academy had changed somewhat.

"Sam! You're here early."

Sammael spun on one hoof in surprise; school was still in-session, so he hadn't expected to have company in the dance hall so soon!

"Oh! Gerry, it's you. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Aren't you meant to be at your day job or something?"

Gerald Hirschkoff was an elk, perhaps in his late 30s, and had been a strong feature of Sammael's education at the Academy. It had been he--himself all antlers and hooves--who had shown the young Sammael that such things were not a burden if they were properly incorporated into one's self-expression.

'You're the king of the stage,' _Gerald had said to Sammael, any number of times. _'Look around you. All of the other male dancers are rabbits, mustelids, felines, gazelles and so on. You're the only one with real masculine presence up there. Use your antlers, your physique, to your advantage. Own the stage. Make them your backup dancers.'

"Yes, me," Gerald smirked, tapping his antler with his pencil. "I'm on leave from my 'day job.' I'm just looking over your schedule and thought I'd come and make sure your lights and AV systems were all functioning properly. You've got a busy few weeks ahead, just one less thing for you to worry about."

Gerald's past was something of a mystery. He never spoke of it in any depth, but from his skill on the stage and his demeanour, it was clear he had a history in dance, stage acting or something similar. Sam had taken him at his word. He clearly knew what he was talking about, one way or another. The one on one tutelage he had offered to Sam, out of his own time, had been where the young stag had found his rhythm. His sense of expression. It was where he had learned to own his presence on the stage, to project confidence and clarity.

That had led Sammael to apply for work at the Academy with Gerald's support, even before he graduated. And now, he was a lead tutor with a class schedule of his own, offering extracurricular lessons and support to the newer Academy students who needed it. It was the role Gerry had held, himself.

"Thanks, Gerry. I'm sure I'll manage though. I can't believe you'd spend your vacation days coming here to do any actual work. You know you don't need to make any excuses if you just want to spend some alone time with me, right?" Sam gave the smirk right back, before narrowing his eyes. "Or am I a little too mature for you, these days?"

Gerald blustered. "Why you little...! You don't... I...!"

"I'm kidding, Gerry, don't pop a blood vessel!" Sam laughed, clapping the elk on the shoulder as he sidled past him into the dance hall. "Since you're here, though, would you give me a hand to set up the equipment for this afternoon's group? It's a junior class, they're still doing core strength training and balance routines."

*

_"Tracey!! _Come on, hurry up or you'll be late!"

The strident tone of his mother's voice cut through the eighteen-year-old bunny's hormonal reverie like a breaking wave through a sand castle. She had an incredible knack for interrupting him at precisely the wrong moment. The rising buzz of pleasure that Tracey had been enjoying fizzled away. His hard cock twitched lazily, and Tracey felt it emit a slow drool of slimy pre-ejaculate into his underwear when he hurriedly pulled them up, just barely covering himself before his mother appeared in the doorway of the bedroom he shared with two of his five siblings.

"What are you still doing laying about? You've been pestering me for months to enrol you in these classes, I thought you'd be tripping over yourself to get to the first one!" his mother scolded.

Tracey was grateful that she seemed so distracted. His youngest sister Paige was in his mother's arms, suckling at a milk bottle. The second-youngest, Tracey's 4-year-old brother Billie, held onto his mother's skirt, chattering nonsensically.

"Y-yeah, don't worry mom, I got time! I'm a fast runner."

"I know you are. But you have to move, _Trace. Avery tells me that you should be there at least fifteen minutes early so you can change and stretch before the class starts. Now _go!"

Tracey exhaled when his mother finally left, poking out his tongue at Billie to stop the boy from staring. Great, _Tracey thought. _First class and I'm gonna have a stiffy the whole time.

His mother was right. The Smithy Lane Stage Academy was a good twenty minute run away, and he had twenty-five to get there. He palmed at the stiff ridge in his underwear balefully, grinding up against the heel of his hand. He knew he could probably cum in under five minutes, but secretly Tracey was excited by the thought of being horny in a public setting. Especially somewhere like a dance class. So he ignored his rampant teenage hormones, packed his brand new Lycra dance clothes in his backpack, and left the house.

The eighteen-year-old Tracey idolised his twenty-five-year-old brother, Avery. The two older boys shared their bedroom with four-year-old Billie, while their three sisters--nineteen-year-old Eden, thirteen-year-old Frankie and eleven-month-old Paige--shared the other room. It was a crowded home, to say the very least. Moments of privacy were at a distinct premium. Tracey's parents were hardly puritanical, just... oblivious to the needs of a young boy. Or so it seemed, to Tracey. Avery pretended not to notice, nor to struggle with his own hormonal urges. But Tracey heard him, almost every night, muffling his aroused little breaths in his pillow and furtively rubbing himself beneath his blankets. Tracey tried to wait until Avery was asleep before he did the same, but he knew that Avery knew he'd reached that particular stage of boyhood long ago.

A smart bunny might've taken care of his urges in the bathroom, one of the very few moments of privacy available to him. But the family home had only the one bathroom, and there was almost always a queue of bunnies waiting to use it.

Still, they managed. On the reasonably rare occasions where Avery and Tracey walked in on each other, nothing was said. But there was an unspoken agreement between the brothers that masturbation was an alone-time activity, and Avery had made it clear the first time he'd interrupted Tracey that he expected the younger bunny to stop. Tracey, with the curiosity of youth, would have had no problem with Avery continuing while he watched. Indeed Tracey had learned all he knew about self-pleasure from covertly observing his older brother--and doing so became one of Tracey's favourite naughty activities. Yet Avery was always very secretive and subtle with his self-pleasure, and to this day Tracey had still never really _seen _his older brother's cock.

In truth, all Tracey wanted was to be like his older brother. Avery had a certain acidic humour and confident self-expression that Tracey wanted little more than to emulate in his own way. So when Avery, after several years of lessons at the Smithy Lane Stage Academy, got a job as a _professional dancer, _of course it was a path Tracey wanted to follow, too!

The young bunny's heart was racing when he arrived at the Academy--and not just from the exertion of running all the way there.

*

"Um. Hello? Are you the teacher?"

Sammael spun around, clipboard in hand and a warm smile on his muzzle, to the sound of a young voice addressing him.

"Yes! Hello there. You must be uh... Tracey, right? Today's your first class?"

The little bunny was adorable. He was a little older than Sam had been anticipating; most of his juniors were still school-age, but Tracey appeared to be on the cusp of adulthood, at least. He shifted awkwardly from one large foot to the other, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was breathing a little heavily, evidence that he'd exerted himself on the journey to the Academy. He nodded to Sam's question, glancing around uncertainly.

"Good, good. You're in the right place, don't worry. Most of the class are already out back getting changed, why don't you go join them, find a locker for your bag, and come and join us back out here?"

Tracey nodded again and, holding his head high, trotted away towards the muffled susurration of young voices that indicated the changeroom. Sam watched him go, the stag's eyes lingering on the bunny's little cotton tail and his butt. He was a cute one, that was for sure. About the age Sam had been when he'd started lessons at the Academy. The stag smirked, allowing his filthy mind to wander. This was going to be fun.

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to Tracey the moment the bunny entered the changeroom. Silence fell, just momentarily, before conversations resumed. The junior dance class was comprised of a fairly broad variety of gender expressions, and varied in age from maybe fifteen through to twenty or so. Coming from an ethnicity and heritage where gender was a fluid concept, the bunny did not by default think of male and female as binary opposites. But the fleeting nudity all around him in that moment at least left him in little doubt as to the biology of some of the class's participants. The lycra dance outfits weren't much more modest than being nude.

Self-consciously at first, but with a thrill of exhibitionist excitement coursing through his veins and causing blood to flow into his cock, Tracey set down his backpack and began to strip out of his everyday clothes. He stood naked for a long moment while he rummaged through his backpack, drawing out his leotard and undershorts. More than one pair of eyes lingered on his nudity.

"Wow, new guy's packing heat!" came a raucous voice, suddenly.

The bunny cast his eyes around to find who had spoken, and to whom. It wasn't hard to determine. A wolf, probably a year or two Tracey's junior, was staring at the bunny's crotch. He was slender and toned, stark naked, and openly fumbling with his cock and balls.

"Hey! Don't stare," Tracey said, although he didn't really mean it.

He made no attempt to cover himself up, even when he felt himself getting erect.

"It's getting even bigger!" the wolf pup exclaimed, tugging on the elbow of an equally twinky little gazelle, urging them to look as well.

"So is yours!" Tracey retorted, pointing to the wolf's crotch, from which by that stage an urgent erection protruded, being tugged and pushed around by the wolf's fumbling. "What's your name? I'm new here. I'm Tracey."

"I'm Zak!" said the wolf, before nodding towards the gazelle. "This is Brook. We're boyfriends!"

The gazelle fluttered their eyelashes and blushed brightly, seemingly unsure of where to look, or how to respond to the wolf's assertion. They was already dressed, wearing the Smithy Lane-branded white leotard, over which they'd pulled a loose pair of athletic shorts. The gazelle's gender was ambiguous, which piqued Tracey's curiosity.

"Cool. Nice to meet you both," Tracey giggled, looking down at Zak's uncut penis, which the wolf seemed in no hurry to cover up. "Uh..."

"Aren't bunnies meant to have tiny cocks?"

"I uh... I don't know," Tracey shrugged.

The bunny was fully hard by then, and indeed, he was significantly larger than Zak. His circumcised boyhood jutted pinkly from his white-furred groin, the head shining like a cherry atop his subtly two-toned shaft.

"Zak, c'mon, get dressed before we get in trouble!" Brook urged, tearing their eyes away from Tracey with some effort. The gazelle's voice was soft and quiet. "It's rude to ask all that stuff when you only just met someone, too!"

"You didn't mind me doin' it when I met you!"

"I did too!" the gazelle stamped a tiny hoof.

The wolf rolled his eyes, but he obliged after another moment, and another lengthy stare at Tracey's cock. The bunny's heart hammered in his chest. He was achingly stiff. The feeling of being so openly stared at and... admired? Was Zak admiring him? Tracey supposed he was. It was exhilarating. And when Tracey did finally clothe his slinky body in the Academy's proprietary white leotard--over a pair of blue lycra shorts--he noticed that almost all of the students who still lingered in the changeroom were staring at him, as well. The wolf had drawn attention to him in a way he'd never experienced before. Having a stiffy for the whole dance class no longer seemed to be an impediment. Tracey arranged himself so that his penis pointed up along his tummy, the tip reaching almost to the waistband of his undershorts, and trotted back out into the dance hall for his first ever class.

*

"...and stretch, and hold there! Keep that core tight, Zak! Brook, focus your eyes on one point, it'll help you keep your balance!" Sam walked around the assembled group, offering advice here and there and correcting the posture of several of his students. "All stagecraft is all about posture! Good posture is all about balance, and good balance is all about core strength! You want to be light on your feet--or hooves. Float like you're dancing underwater."

Tracey had no trouble keeping his eyes on one point while the class went through a series of balance exercises, given that right in front of him was the shapely, leotard-clad buttocks of a pretty, long-legged black-tailed doe called Maddwyn. The bunny's breathing was excited. The tight friction of two layers of lycra caused pleasurable pressure against his cock. It had been up and down almost constantly for the whole half-hour of core strength training exercises. He gasped in distracted surprise when he suddenly felt Sammael's hands on his body. The stag hoisted the bunny's arms upward and pulled backward gently on his raised knee, causing him to teeter on the toes of his other foot.

"That's it, Tracey--keep those arms outstretched. Hold that posture for thirty more seconds. Can you feel the muscles this is training?" Sam said.

Tracey certainly could. He nodded, holding his breath to keep his core tight while his glutes and calves burned with exertion. The nod was a mistake. His eyes left Maddwyn's buttocks to look up at Sammael, and the bunny overbalanced. He crashed to the floor in a flurry of flailing limbs. He bumped into Maddwyn as he fell, causing her to bleat and lose her balance as well. The doe, however, stayed upright. Zak laughed. Tracey's ears burned. Was he really being made fun of by a wolf pup? How embarrassing!

"Zak! That's enough. Are you alright there, Tracey?" Sam scolded the wolf, before squatting beside Tracey.

"Y-yeah, I uh. I'm okay."

Tracey stood up. Sammael's eyes remained low. The stag's ears dished forward and the shadow of a smile passed his lips. Tracey frowned. What was he looking at...? The bunny looked down, and gasped in shock. His fall had dislodged his erection from its tightly-dressed position, and it had left a streak of precum in a damp arc from where his tip had been to where it now sat, poking out the leg seam of his leotard and concealed only by the single layer of blue lycra of his undershorts.

"Yes, you definitely _seem _okay," Sam said, quietly enough that only Tracey could hear him.

A thrill of excitement ran through the bunny as he hurriedly fumbled and kneaded his penis back into its proper position. Maddwyn was watching too, and their eyes met momentarily. She hurriedly looked away, visibly flustered. Sam patted Tracey on the lower back and continued to walk around the assembled students. The bunny squeezed himself firmly through the lycra when he thought no one was looking. It sent a shiver up his spine and he felt his penis throb in his hand. It was the strangest confluence of feelings for Tracey. He felt ungainly and awkward amongst this group of young dancers--everyone seemed to have better poise, tighter posture, more grace, more strength than he did. Even Zak, whose expression was more about pure energy and movement than precision.

The remainder of the class consisted of Sammael demonstrating and then helping each student in turn to master some basic postures and preliminary dance moves. But whoever he was with at the time, Tracey kept catching the stag throwing glances his way. He left Tracey until last and, before approaching the bunny, dismissed the rest of the class. Tracey perked up one ear, tilting his head curiously to his new teacher. Sam's eyes had a sort of hunger in them, the way they lingered on his body. It was the same as how Zak had looked at him in the changeroom but... different. Sammael's gaze oozed with intent. Tracey subconsciously palmed at himself through his leotard.

There was a long moment of silence between them. Sam stared at the slinky bunny boy, his eye wandering luxuriantly over his slender, effeminate frame. Effeminate, that was, aside from the firm, telltale ridge rising from his groin almost to the band of his high-waisted undershorts. Tracey shifted from foot to foot and his eye fell to the crotch of Sammael's athletic shorts. The stag was dressed far more modestly than his students but even so, when he took a step, Tracey was certain he could see an erection in his groin.

"So. How are you finding it, so far?" Sam asked, eyes lingering on the bunny's obvious arousal as he stepped in closer. "You've got good form for a first-timer. What made you want to learn dance and stagecraft?"

Tracey's nose wriggled adorably. Sam noticed that he clasped his hands behind his back, instead of trying to cover himself.

"It's fun!" Tracey squeaked. "My brother taught me a few things and I learned a bit more from watching him practice at home. He's gonna be a famous actor one day!"

"Oh? Older brother?" Sam asked.

"Yeah! He trained here for ages. D'you know him? His name's Avery!"

"Hmm... yeah, I think that rings a bell," Sammael lied. "But now, it's all about you. You've started a bit later than some of the others, so we've got a bit of work to do."

Tracey tilted his head. "Is it because I'm bad?"

"What? Oh no, not at all!" Sam frowned in concern and draped a companionable arm around Tracey's shoulders. "No, you've got good form. We just need to work a bit on getting you caught up with the rest of this group, since most of them have been working for a couple of weeks already. Why don't you show me some of your favourite moves before we wrap up, hmm?"

Tracey grinned up at the stag and, over the next ten minutes, pranced around on the parquet floor of the dance studio with his new dance instructor. Sam was supportive and positive, demonstrating where needed and praising the bunny's skills. Sammael could hardly believe his luck. Avery's little brother? The stag was significantly more familiar with Avery than he'd let on, of course. But, as he'd said, these classes were all about Tracey now, and he didn't want the cute little bunny living in his brother's shadow.

*

Tracey was relentlessly hard. Even after Sammael had signed him out for the night and the bunny returned to the now empty changeroom, his cock remained hard as iron. The tiniest movement elicited needy throbs from it. His undershorts had a big wet patch over where his tip sat, and even the white leotard over the top was soaked through. He was certain Sammael had noticed it, but although he'd obviously been looking, the stag didn't say anything.

The bunny sat on the cold metal bench, staring down at his throbbing bulge. He really needed to pee. His bladder was full enough that it made him squirm. He knew he could pee with a stiffy, but it was messy--and there were no urinals or showers in this change room, only a couple of unisex cubicles. Tracey palmed at his rigid bunnyhood, flexing his hips into his hand with a shaky sigh. Maybe he could jerk off real quick. Then he could pee and go home.

Tracey cast a nervous glance around the change room. It was empty, and the dance hall outside was silent. Sammael must have left already. Tracey was on his own. The bunny stood and stripped awkwardly out of his leotard. His white and brown-patched fur was messy, sticking out in clumps all over him where it had been squished to his skin. His penis was so hard he could clearly see the shape of his glans through the slimy Lycra of his undershorts. Why did it feel so much more intense than it usually did? Tracey cupped his shaft in his palm, furtively rubbing up and down over it through the Lycra. His penis throbbed, and his balls tingled. Maybe it was the excitement of being in a public space. Or just that he'd _almost _cum earlier at home before his mother walked in. Whatever it was, Tracey's world shrunk in those moments to little more that the pleasure he could milk from his burning teenage arousal. His undershorts made their way down to the floor of the change room, carelessly discarded in his haste to expose himself.

Tracey sat once more, on the edge of the metal bench. It was cold on his bare, furry buttocks, but he didn't care. His legs spread wide, the bunny stared hungrily at his own penis, which stared right back up at him, its tip glistening with precum. Tracey didn't have a refined 'technique' for this. That might have seemed unusual for a young adult, but Tracey had grown up in a very sheltered environment. His youthful innocence had miraculously persisted until now, and the most obvious symptom of it was that his masturbation--although frequent--remained oedipal. It was purely sensation-focused, for Tracey. All he was aiming for was to make it feel nice, to feel the rising burn and the tremulous pop-pop-pop sensation that accompanied his climax. On the rare occasion when he found himself home alone, he would continue even after he came, riding waves of overstimulation to bring himself to orgasm after orgasm until he ran dry. No time for that here.

Tracey felt his heart fluttering in his chest. This was the most excited he'd been in a long time. He curled his fingers around the throbbing root of his penis and squeezed it hard. A drool of precum oozed from his tip, and strung down towards the floor. He caught it in his other palm and brought it back up, smearing it around his glans. It made a wet squelching noise in his hand, and the slimy friction drew forth a horny whimper from the bunny. His legs shook and his hips automatically flexed, ramming his penis into his own grip with directionless, primal need.

It only took a few seconds. Tracey's toes curled and the bunny sucked in a sharp, deep breath, as if he'd just plunged into ice-water. His body spasmed and shook uncontrollably. It felt like his whole body was full of butterflies, but no part more so than his straining penis. He squeezed his base rhythmically and rosy-palmed his slippery glans; a frantic, furtive motion. The butterflies seemed intent on cramming themselves into the very tip of his penis all at once, and Tracey relished the intensity of the sensation. He could never really let himself go like this at home, surrounded all the time by family! There, he had to be subtle and quiet about it, but here? The bunny let out a high-pitched moan of ecstasy, and at that very moment all of the butterflies exploded. All at once.

A powerful watery squirt erupted forth from somewhere inside Tracey, blasting against his slimy hand and spraying out in all directions. Just one, but his cock kept throbbing and pulsing and clenching over and over for another few moments, until the intense burn of pleasure faded into hypersensitivity. That was unusual. He wasn't even quite sure if he'd cum. He lifted his hand and observed the fluid that coated it. It was thin and watery, slick like precum but... different. The bunny relaxed back against the wall of locker doors behind him with a metallic clang.

*

Sammael clamped his hand over his muzzle to stifle his heated moan. The stag hid behind an equipment rack a few yards away from where Tracey sat. He'd originally been going to announce his presence so as not to frighten the bunny. All he needed was to do the rounds, making sure no one left anything behind after their class and cleaning up where needed. But the moment he'd walked into the change room he'd been confronted by a very obvious, very frantic series of sounds that were utterly unmistakeable. And over the next few moments he'd gone from open-mouthed shock to a drooling, heavy-breathing pervert with his dick in his hand, watching his newest student engaging in a painfully obvious activity.

Sam was utterly transfixed. A moment of wrestling with his athletic shorts and tight Lycra undergarments had freed the stag's thick, uncircumcised penis, even as it surged to a fresh, throbbing erection over the show playing out before him.

Tracey seemed to have no qualms about being in the open--if he'd wanted to be private about his activities, he'd have taken it to one of the bathroom cubicles. But there he was, out in the open, frantically rosy-palming a cock that looked to be almost as big as Sammael's. The stag pulled back his foreskin, stretching it taut to his shaft and relishing the throb of pleasure it brought forth from his taut frenulum. His glans glistened in the harsh lights of the change room, already wet and slippery with the precum he'd been oozing into his fleshy hood for most of the time he'd spent with Tracey in the dance hall. And when Tracey came--did he actually orgasm? Or just make himself squirt? Sam couldn't tell--the stag was only moments behind, milking out thick drops of 'buckshot' into his free hand.

It was going to be a challenge for Sam to control himself, if Tracey was as relentlessly horny and open to showing off as he seemed to be.

*

Even after the strange not-quite-orgasm in the changeroom, Tracey's erection didn't go away completely. And to the bunny's horror, he couldn't pee. He could feel the sharp weight of his bladder urging him to relieve himself, but even standing over the bowl of one of the change room toilets, he couldn't make it happen. It was like his penis was clogged. He managed a few messy squirts, but nowhere near enough to fully drain himself. Tracey looked at the clock over the partition wall of the cubicle. He had to hurry. He didn't want to run home in the dark, and the last bus left in ten minutes from the nearest stop. He pushed hard, and managed another little squirt of urine that splashed noisily into the bowl, but no more. In frustration, he flushed, and hurriedly dressed himself for the bus ride home.

*

The bus never usually took this long to get from Stillwater High to Newtown, did it?

Tracey fidgeted nervously. There were only half a dozen people aboard, all of whom were adults in business clothes, heading home from day jobs that had kept them late at the office. Tracey sat alone, near the back of the bus, with his backpack on his lap. He squeezed and rubbed his thighs together, the bunny semi-consciously fondling and playing with himself through his clothing, to distract himself from the urgency in his bladder. He was hard again. Really, really hard. As if he hadn't done the thing he'd done in the dance hall change room. Why was that? It had felt different, sure. More intense. But now, less than twenty minutes later, his sizeable cock was just as urgently rigid as it had been all afternoon.

He clenched hard to stem the flow that tried, again and again, to rush forth past the tight muscle that kept it contained in his bladder. A shudder ran up his spine. The bunny rubbed and palmed himself, gripping his aching arousal through his shorts. He could feel more and more precum oozing forth, messing up his fresh underwear, but all that mattered was Not Peeing.

Think about ANYthing else. Not peeing. Don't pee. Don't pee. Maddwyn's butt. Sammael's boner. Mm, yeah. Zak's, too. Wonder what Sam's looks like? I bet it's big. Don't pee. Don't pee. Oh shi...

Tracey's internal monologue derailed. It came out of nowhere. His hand clenched hard around his clothed erection and the bunny hunched over himself, desperately trying to hold it in. It wasn't pee.

Tracey orgasmed. Right there on the bus. He couldn't stop it. He squeezed and frantically rubbed his cock a few times, unable to resist, and felt a bloom of wetness in his underwear.

Oh wow... again? That felt nice...

No one around him seemed to have taken any notice. The tension that had built up in his body to snapping point dissipated quickly, and the bunny felt his penis softening.

He was just relaxing when...The bunny's eyes flew open. Every muscle in his body tensed. He couldn't clench hard enough. And this time, it most certainly did not feel as though his tubes were 'clogged.' His bladder, so full and so urgent for release, managed to squeeze a little of its contents past his post-orgasmically shaky defences. Heat, wetness, far more than his ejaculation, erupted into Tracey's shorts. It was enough to give the bunny a large wet spot, large enough that it dripped down over his groin and soaked his butt as well.

Oh no... no no no... not happening...

The bus came to a stop with a squeal of brakes and a hiss from the air suspension. Tracey shot out the door like a bullet, his backpack held in front of him. It was only a block to his house, but he knew he wouldn't make it. As soon as the bus was out of sight and he was as alone as he could possibly be on a residential street, Tracey darted into the most secluded space he could find. And it was there, in the side garden of 19 Almond Avenue, that Tracey finally emptied his bladder into Mrs Gyles' geraniums.

*

Tracey snuck into his house through the back door, as silently as he could. His large family was gathered in the living room for dinner, and he took the opportunity to rush through the house, straight to the bathroom. Mercifully, for once, it was vacant.

Ugh, how embarrassing! What am I gonna do with my clothes?

Stripping down to his fur, Tracey turned on the shower and stepped gratefully into its steamy warmth to wash the sweat, cum and piss out of his fur. That was definitely not how he'd anticipated the evening progressing.

Once clean, he rummaged through the laundry hamper, emptying out the piles of dirty clothes until he reached the very bottom, where he deposited the shorts and underwear he'd dampened on the bus. His leotard and undershorts looked like they'd survive another day, even if the latter did have a little crusty patch on the front. The bunny couldn't wait for his next class. In spite of the embarrassment, everything that had happened before had been intensely exciting and replayed over and over in his mind. It was going to fuel his self-pleasure all week, that was for sure.

"Oh hello! There you are!" Tracey's mother exclaimed when Tracey, wearing his pyjamas, finally appeared in the living room. "How was class?"

"Hey mom! It was awesome! I thought it was just gonna be exercises and stuff but we actually got to learn some moves, look!"

Tracey's mother clapped dutifully as Tracey demonstrated a few ballet-looking poses. Avery chewed his dinner thoughtfully, a little smirk on his face.

"You're home pretty late, did the class run over time?" Tracey's father inserted.

"Oh! N-no, not really, but the tutor spent some time helping each of us one at a time and left me until last, since I'm the newest. He's really cool! He said he knows you, Av."

Avery spluttered, suddenly very alert.

"Who is it?" Avery demanded.

"Sammael!"

Avery felt his ears burning, and fell silent. Of course it just had to be that pervert, didn't it? Sammael was very well known to Avery. Very well indeed. But he couldn't mention that to Tracey, especially not in front of their whole family. How was he going to respond?

"Oh, I uh... yeah, I think I remember him from the academy."

Tracey nodded enthusiastically. "He said the same about you! He seems to know his stuff."

To Avery's relief, the conversation soon shifted from Tracey back to other, safer topics. Avery observed Tracey closely for the remainder of the evening. He seemed livelier than usual. More animated. Avery was glad his little brother was happy, but he had some deep, nagging concerns about Sammael and his conduct. Would the stag be able to keep his shit together around Tracey? Tracey was a legal adult, sure, but he was marked with an innocence that made him seem younger.

Later that night, once Billie had fallen asleep, Avery kicked the underside of Tracey's bunk to get the younger bunny's attention. Tracey's head appeared over the side in the gloom.

"What?!" he whispered harshly.

"C'mere."

Tracey shuffled around and soon jumped down from his bunk to the carpeted floor, kneeling beside his older brother's bed. Avery propped himself up on his elbows under his blankets.

"I want you to watch how Sammael behaves around you. Now...no, shh, let me speak. Promise me you'll keep this quiet? Don't tell anyone, especially Mom and Dad?"

Tracey tilted his head in confusion, but nodded his agreement.

"Good. The dance job I got the other month? The one you're all excited about? It's... well it's not... uhm. It's kinda... erotic dancing. Adult stuff. At a gay club."

Tracey shrugged. "So? I know that! You never said it but it's pretty obvious. I've seen the shorts you gotta wear, they're tiny and glittery and rainbow coloured!"

Avery blustered. "What would mom say if she found out I was an erotic dancer?"

"Who cares?" Tracey giggled suddenly. "Ever get a boner on stage?"

"You little perv!" Avery poked his brother roughly in the stomach. "None of your damned business! Now listen. I... Sammael and I... we know each other much better than either of us seem to have told you. We work together. At the gay club. He works there too."

Tracey was silent for a long moment. He felt himself getting hard in his pyjamas, tenting out the loose cotton. The image of Sammael in those same tiny sparkly booty shorts stuck in the teenager's brain.

"I just want you to know that," Avery continued. "Be careful around Sam. He can be a lot of fun but if he starts doing stuff that makes you uncomfortable you just walk away, got it? Don't let him be a creep! And please, please don't tell mom any of this?"

"Sure thing, Av. He seems cool. Don't worry, I'll be fine!" Tracey paused, rose to his feet smoothly, and giggled, jutting his hips out and waggling his loosely-constrained erection. "I'd be good as an erotic dancer. I'd be hard all the time!"

Avery shoved his little brother backward playfully and grumbled. "You... g-go back to bed, that's gross, I don't want to see that!"

Tracey giggled again, and leaned in to kiss his older brother's cheek. "G'night, Av."

Once back in his bunk, Tracey lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Counting down in his mind. It didn't take long. The young bunny smirked knowingly, hearing the familiar, telltale sounds of Avery masturbating under his blankets beneath him.

I wonder what he does with his cum afterwards?

*