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Knothole High: Playing the Field

Lesson One: Two Heads are Better than One

The theme of the prom this year was 'Cloud Nine'.

Bradley Delacroix couldn't believe that an all boy's high school would come up with a theme that was just so... cheesy. He stood in front of one of the posters depicting two silhouetted figures dancing amongst fluffy, white clouds. Streamers were already decorating the hallways as were banners all urging people to find dates and register for the prom.

Countdowns were also prevalent in the hallways. It surprised Brad that the teachers were actually actively participating in the maintenance of all these advertisements. In his previous school, only a handful of teachers - mostly the art or drama teachers - were willing to show enthusiasm for that one magical evening. Here, even Coach Steele looked genuinely excited.

Everyone knew the school's best teachers was going to chaperone the prom.

Brad didn't know why that made the big wolf so happy. All the teachers that looked after the prom back at his old school always got grouchy that they wasted their night while the kids enjoyed themselves. They couldn't even get drunk even though someone always spiked the punch.

Shrugging, Brad turned away from the poster and shuffled down to the line of the cafeteria. He got a big hulking helping of the cafeteria's special - steak. For such an exclusive, sport-oriented school, it didn't surprise him at all that the every meal of the week was somehow big, hearty and filled with protein. Part of him was grateful it wasn't a high-protein gruel he was so used to from his previous school. Some peas, corn and steamed vegetables were placed on the side of his plate as well as a rice pudding for dessert. He passed on the mashed potatoes and headed over to his usual table - a quaint little place in the corner.

The cafeteria was full of noise. The various sports teams were all psyched up. It was the middle of the season for them, no matter what sport they played. Excitement from their impending wins and the prom made sure that their testosterone was pumping in more ways than one.

"Hey there, little bro!"

Bartholomew Delacroix, Brad's senior twin brother by two minutes, slipped in beside him, grinning broadly and having a far emptier plate than his brother. On Bart's plate was just a couple of steamed vegetables and some chicken nuggets.

"Hey, Bart."

Bart began chomping on one nugget at the time. "You're seriously not going to eat that, are you?" he asked, pointing his half-eaten nugget at Brad's plate.

Truth be told, Brad was a twig-like figure. His friends back at his old school used to joke about how because he had to share a womb with his brother, he only got half the testosterone. He tried to hide his girlish figure with the baggy clothing.Bart wore it with pride. Yes he may have a skinny frame with hips that were dangerously bordering the curvaceous but he rationalised that as long as he had a dick and balls, he was a guy.

Still, that didn't stop Brad from trying to put on muscle.

He just never really had the drive to follow through with all the necessary steps to putting on muscle, Eat, Exercise and Rest. Most of the time, he only ate when he felt hungry and that was rare. If he could get away with one meal a day, he would. Exercise was restricted to gym classes and he never went further than that. Plus, he hated the smell of sweat in his short, curly, brown hair.

As for rest...

He honestly preferred watching movies until 1 am in the morning than to get some sleep.

"I'll try," he answered with a shaky smile. His twin's eyes rolled.

Between the two of them, they had an odd bit of heterochromia - a difference in the coloration of their eyes. While Bart's left eye was green while his right eye was blue. For Brad, his left eye was blue and his right eye was green. The jokes that brought along and the number of time girls came up to them and asked if they really had that 'twin telepathy' just would not stop.

Over the years, they had developed a system when trying to pick up a girl. They would fake twin telepathy just to seem cooler. It worked... sometimes. Those that they did end up picking up though were only interested in being friends or parading them around like trophies. Nothing explicit ever happened. All the girls they attracted seemed more interested in the big, buff guys than the two, girlish guys who just happened to be twins.

Naturally, that meant they were used to being around girls.

An all boy's school was very different.

"So, you thinking about going to the prom?" Bart asked.

"Depends on if I can get a girl or not," Brad answered with a smile. "Last time I checked, you're the closest to a girl in this place and no way am I going to ask you out to the prom."

He got a light punch to the shoulder for that. "Funny. The only time you'll ever get a girl is if she's a lesbian."

"Same goes for you, asshole."

"Fucktard."

They shared twin grins, perfect, straight teeth flashing against one another. Another thing they shared in common. They got braces at the same time. They their shots at the same time. Hell, they even got circumcised at the same time.

Bart was more than just Brad's brother. Bart was his best friend.

"Okay, genius," Brad said with a smirk, "if you're so confident, what's your plan on getting a girl?"

Bart flexed his non-existent bicep muscles. "Easy! I'm going to join the tennis team!"

"The tennis team," Brad repeated. "And here I thought you couldn't get any more gay. Now you're going to be hitting another guy's balls around?"

Another light, playful punch. "Shut the fuck up. You know I'm right. Just think of it, dude, white shirt, white shorts to show off your thick thighs. Plus, I hear that it's one of those sports that the girls actually come to. The shallow chicks go for big burly guys like wrestling or football but if you want to get intelligent, smart girls that still look pretty damn fine, you go to tennis or soccer."

Brad leaned on the table with a smile, regarding his brother dubiously. "So you're going to join the tennis team just to pick up girls. Have you ever played tennis in your life?"

"Yes."

"Wii Sports doesn't count."

Bart deflated and sighed. "Okay fine. But I've got a week. Maybe by then, I'll at least get a girl interested. If not prom, then maybe to some Halloween party or something." He waved his fork at the cafeteria. "Seriously man, this sausage fest is getting sickening."

Brad rolled his eyes. "I hear ya. You ever notice that we don't have any cheerleaders at the games or that none of the guys ever bring about their girlfriends?"

"They have boyfriends," Bart sniggered. "Did you know that Lex Peterson is dating Chuck West? Can you believe that the biggest, meanest, toughest guy in school is a total queer!? Oh and that Chuck West, son of two ex-military dogs is his boyfriend!?"

"Ssssh!" Brad urged, cautioning him to lower his voice. "Dude, you wanna get killed?"

"Fine, fine," Bart answered, biting into another chicken nugget. "I don't plan to die a virgin."

"Keep that up, and you'll have to make other plans. I'll be sure to attend the funeral."

"Hey, if I go down, I'm taking you with me."

The twins shared a laugh and proceeded to finish their meals.

At least as best as they could.

Lesson Two: Have a Backup Plan

Despite his nonchalant approach to the upcoming prom, Brad was quite worried about not having a date. The excitement in the hallways was such that he got the impression everyone had a date. His teenage mind also drove home the idea that if he didn't go to the prom and had a girl in one arm, he would be branded as a loner and as a dateless loser for the rest of his life.

Or worse.

Queer.

Being a freshman, he had dreams of grandeur when it came to the prom. Originally, he was just meant to attend the sister high school of his previous middle school. Then the opportunity to attend Knothole High came up. What should have been a blissful co-ed experience turned into a cock-filled nightmare. With so many cocky jocks around, it was impossible to get a girl.

When he tried hitting up the local malls in his school uniform, the girls would always compare him to that other guy from Knothole High that was big, buff and practically ripping out of his shirt. Sure, they complained the guys never seemed interested in them but they still dreamt and they still compared Brad to those guys.

Nearing the end of the day, it was time for Physical Education with Coach Steele once more. He was discussing something with two other guys from the freshman class while Brad and the rest of the class threw a ball around in pairs. Jessie Steele and his best friend, Andrew Martins, were holding up streamers and bottles of confetti.

"Looks like they're planning stuff for the prom," Brad observed, tossing the ball towards Bart.

"Kinda funny to see two of the biggest football stars planning a freshman prom, huh?" his brother responded. "I mean, they look really weird with all that glitter around."

"I don't think any other school has a prom for each year level," Brad answered, catching the returning ball. "We should be grateful that they're putting so much effort into it."

"I'll be sure to thank them if I attend."

He gave his brother a dubious look. "What happened to the great 'Tennis Player with the Short-Shorts' plan?"

Bart rolled his eyes as he caught the ball once more and tossing it between his hands. "Man, you know how hard it is to get into a team this late in the game? Seriously, the only position the team is willing to give me is water boy. I'd rather not go if I have cart around a cart of guy's smelly underwear and clean up after them."

"At least you'll be in a team, right?" Brad laughed. "I mean, if your girlfriend ever gets thirsty, you'll be the man for the job! Oh and she'll never have to worry about you leaving your underwear all over the place!"

"You are such a retard." For that, Bart threw the football extra hard and it struck Brad on the chest, sending him toppling back with a fit of laughter. "What are you doing for the prom anyway?"

Brad feared that question. He got to his feet and regarded the stitching of the football thoughtfully.

"You don't have a plan, do you?"

One problem with having a twin.

You couldn't hide anything.

"You're so pathetic, man." Bart snatched the ball from his hands. "Look, if you want, I guess you could go to the prom and be one of those 'unattached bachelors. You know, one of the guys that steals another guy's girl. But that's low man. You're better off going with a guy than doing that."

"I'm not about to go ruining someone else's night," Brad answered, taking the ball back. "Look, I'll think of something and I swear, by prom night, I'll have a date."

His twin grinned at him, lifting his right hand up in a challenge. "And I bet my date will be better looking than yours."

"You wish," Brad replied, seizing his brother's hand and gripping it tightly. "Winner gets bragging rights until next prom."

"Deal!"

Energy rejuvenated, Brad and his brother went about tossing the ball between them with renewed vigour. Eventually, they had worked up quite a sweat and as usual, Brad was in desperate need of a shower. However, he hated going to the showers in school. The locker rooms smelled like someone had forgotten to clean up after an orgy between wet dogs. Not really surprising considering the testosterone and large number of canines in the school.

He had been hearing horror stories about guys getting raped by bigger, more muscular canines in the locker rooms and that was why people dropped out of school. He ignored them for the most part because he avoided the lockers as much as possible. Yes, that meant he often had to go around wearing his sweat most of the day but a quick spray of deodorant and he was usually fine.

Since it was the end of the day, he forewent the spray and headed towards the bus station.

Then he remembered that his brother was going for tennis tryouts.

Not really interested in watching his brother embarrass himself on the field, he instead went to the library and finished up some homework. His father wouldn't mind picking up the two of them at the same time. Just for good measure, he called up his dad who responded by telling them that he was so happy and proud that Bart was joining a team and that he was more than happy to pick them up afterwards.

At four thirty in the afternoon, Brad picked up his books and headed towards the parking lot. His dad was waiting in the car but he didn't see his brother. Shrugging, Brad figured that it would take about ten minutes for Bart to shower and change. Twenty if he was as sore as he expected.

He jumped into the passenger seat of the car and his father greeted him with a broad smile.

"Hey there, sport," Walter Delacroix greeted, giving his son a big, broad grin. Unlike his sons, his teeth were a little crooked. His complexion was a little red as well from having too many pimples as a young man and picking at them. He had a ruggedly handsome air about him but where he truly shone was as a father and not the sun bleached brown hair he maintained from being a lifeguard down at the beach.

"Hey dad."

"So Bart's gonna join the tennis team, huh?" Walter asked. "Guess I'll have to go get him some gear huh?"

Walter had grown up with next to nothing, on the poor side of town. He never got braces, never had a game console and never failed to remind his sons just how lucky they were. That said, he was not above getting his sons anything they wanted provided it was justified.

"Guess so."

"Not planning to join any clubs, son?"

Brad thought fast. "Chess."

"Really? Great!" Walter rubbed his chin. "Huh... I'll have to get you a good set... Going to have to learn the moves myself so we can spar. Is that what they call it? Sparring?"

"I think so, dad,' Brad chuckled. They spoke for a little longer but when five fifteen came around, their conversation drew down to a worried silence.

"Where's your brother?"

"Maybe he stayed back for extra practice?" Brad offered. "Want me to check?"

"Would you?"

Brad left the car and headed towards the locker rooms. Coach Steele was still in his office, writing some notes and it looked like Jessie Steele was there with him. He gave them a brief wave and they waved back before returning to work. Jessie was making some broad, spectacular movements and Brad guessed there was going to be some sort of explosion at the prom.

Was that even legal?

Shaking the thoughts away, Brad took a deep breath before pushing forward into the locker room.

He didn't need to look far to find his brother.

Because lying on the floor, completely naked, was Bartholomew Delacroix.

Unconscious.

"Bart!"

Lesson Three: Get the Proper Equipment

Bart didn't remember what happened after practice except that he felt a little dizzy once he entered the locker room. He recalled that practice was brutal. From the soreness he continued to remind the family for the rest of the night and the following morning, it was obviously hard. Still, he gladly reported that he had made the cut.

Their dad was ecstatic and promised to buy Bart new equipment after work.

As for Brad, he was worried for his brother but judging by the huge, muscular appearances of the rest of the tennis team, he figured they just drove him really hard. Coach Steele apparently had a chat with the team to make sure to take care of their new recruits. The wolf apologized to high heaven to Walter and Bart, offering an open invitation for Brad.

The experience turned Brad off joining any of the teams, however.

Turned him off... but didn't force him to give up.

Throughout the next day, he spent every hour trying to chat up any sportsman he could find to see if they were accepting any new recruits.

Basketball.

All full.

Baseball.

Try again next season.

Football.

You wish.

Soccer.

'Got enough balls on the field, thank you'.

There wasn't even a chess club in the school.

Sighing, Brad resigned himself to once again facing the possibility that he might not be able to get a date by the time prom came around. His pride told him that if Bart couldn't get a date either, their bet would at least end in a tie of sorts.

But he pushed that thought out of his head.

Sure his pride would take a hit but he would be happy for his brother.

Well... at least try to be happy.

Thinking of his brother, Brad decided that he'd drop in to see just how far Bart was progressing in his new tennis team after one day and being knocked unconscious. At the end of the day, he made his way to the tennis courts at the back of the school. Sure enough, there were several big canines hitting bright, fluorescent balls at one another. They weren't as muscular as any of the wrestling team. They were leaner, build for speed with thicker thighs but still had very impressive builds. The sweat that built up around their armpits and chest pasted their white shirts to their fur, showing off their plump pecs and washboard abs.

Brad sat down on the bleachers, looking for the one human that would no doubt be his brother.

Oddly enough, he couldn't find him.

Maybe Bart was taking the day off practice after the previous night's incident?

He wondered if his brother had already gone home on the bus. If that was the case, Bard dreaded having his dad pick him up especially when he had no reason. No extracurricular sporting activity to claim as his reason for staying well after school hours and needing a ride back home.

Still, he had no choice now.

He considered calling his brother first. Maybe, if he was lucky, Bart was still in school somewhere. Maybe looking for him.

He pulled out his phone...

"Thinking of joining?"

Brad looked to the source of the voice. He let out a faint 'eep' when he saw the towering mass of muscle standing just behind him. The big, coppery-brown and white husky stood proudly against the sun, the golden rays catching the contours of his beautifully muscles shoulders and arms in just the right way to give him an almost heroic stature. Brad could almost hear angels singing 'Alleluia' in the background. The husky even had one arm stretched over his shoulder to show that large, plump bicep.

"Um...Probably not..."

"Dodged a bullet there, mate," the husky answered, sitting down beside him. Brad expected the bench to groan beneath the seven foot canine's weight but he seemed more than capable of balancing his weight.

"Tennis may look easy but it's a summer sport and you've got to remember that in you're out there, trying to hit a tiny ball as big as your fist while in the blazing sun. Don't know how those guys do it." The husky shook his head absently. "Seriously, all that fur? Sheesh... They really work up a sweat too. Not to mention the fact that fall is actually kicking in. Don't know why they keep practising."

"Maybe for next season?" Brad offered absently.

"Maybe." The husky offered his paw. "The name's Brent. Brent Denton."

Brad shook the husky's paw a little intimidated at the fierce, all-consuming grip the canine had. "Bradley Delacroix. But everyone just calls me Brad."

"Pleased to meetcha, Brad." The husky dropped his paw and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thick thighs and his head on his paws.

"You're not part of the team?" Brad asked curiously.

"Technically I am." Brent pulled up what looked like a small, metal water bottle. "I'm the water boy."

Brad couldn't believe it. Brent was huge. Huge and ripped. Despite the thick fur all over his body, he his muscles were big enough to make definite cuts through not only his fur but his clothes as well. If the tennis team rejected someone like Brent for Brad's brother, there was seriously something wrong with the system.

"No way. How'd my scrawny brother make it into the team and you didn't?"

The husky shrugged absently and leaned back, sprawling his broad, muscular back against two rows of the bleachers. "Eh, I guess I'm never really into sports. I mean, I like staying fit and all. I work out in the gym every day but I just don't like competition. Too much testosterone in this school already."

Brad couldn't believe his ears.

A big, muscular guy like Brent wasn't into sports.

The world was certainly full of surprises.

"You're kidding me," Brad laughed. "How do you get that big and not be into sports?"

Brent gave him a lopsided smile. "Kinda mean to stereotype every big guy to being a musclehead, you know."

Brad realised he had just been extremely rude and insulting. He ducked his head and blushed. "Sorry... I didn't mean it that way."

"It's alright," the big husky chuckled, swatting his shoulder lightly. "I get it all the time anyway. Just because you're big doesn't always mean you're like one of those dumb jocks whose every second word is 'fuck' and they're perpetually testosterone poisoned."

That made the small human giggle a little. "Yeah... Still, sorry for pigeonholing you into that role. But if you don't mind me asking, putting on that kind of muscle isn't something you do lightly."

Brent grinned and flexed his very impressive biceps. He could easily be a footballer. "It's about health. Besides, in a school like this, the 'muscle bug' is kind of infectious. The sports bug... not so much."

Brad faintly had a bout of jealously, wishing that the muscle bug would bite him.

"Bet a big buff guy like you has a date to the prom, huh?" he murmured, more lamenting his own lack of a partner than actually complementing Brent.

"No, actually. Why? You asking me?"

Brad instantly went rigid and spun towards the husky, shaking his head furiously. "What!? No! I'm straight!"

The husky's laughter was bright, cheerful and quite musical. "I'm just messing with you. And no, no date here."

"Why not? Bet you could get any girl you wanted."

Brent rolled his eyes and straightened, massive muscles flexing as he pushed off the bleachers. "Anyone who goes after you for your appearance isn't worth chasing. Besides, if I don't have anyone I'm interested now, what's the point of asking them out for one prom? Am I going to stay in the relationship? Do I actually feel anything except for desperation to save face in front of my peers? Will I actually even hang around them during the night? Worse, will they be more than just a status symbol to others saying 'Guess what? I got a date that's hotter than yours so logically, my dick is bigger! So ha!'"

Once again, Brad could not help but giggle. They were serious questions that poked holes into his need to find a date and his little competition with his twin brother but the way Brent put it was just too much to take that seriously.

"If the answer to all those questions is 'no' then what's the point?" the husky answered with a shrug. "I mean, why waste their time and mine with something that won't really make a lasting impact. I bet in four years after I graduate, no one will even remember who I brought to the freshman prom. Personally, I'd rather find my soulmate when I'm sixty and on my deathbed than to have one night stands throughout my life."

"That's a little depressing," Brad murmured, instantly losing his mirth.

"Hey, one second with my soulmate is worth more than an eternity of virgins."

"I suppose..."

A whistle blew somewhere down in the courts and the tennis team began packing up. Brent clapped his paws on his knees and leapt to his feet. "Well, guess it's my time to shine. Got to make sure all the troops are watered and their uniforms are washed. Nice talking to you, Brad. See you around."

Brad glanced at his phone for a few seconds and then back down to the courts. Still no Bart.

An idea sprang into his mind. "Hey, would the team mind if I came into the lockers and looked for my brother? He's meant to be on the team but I never saw him."

The husky shrugged. "Sure. Don't see why they'd mind. Heck, I bet they'd know where he is anyway. Come on in."

Despite the sickly scent of sweaty teenagers and overstimulated sex-drives, Brad managed to survive entering the locker rooms. He honestly pitied Brent who went up and down the aisles of lockers carting around big, plastic laundry hamper. Guys on the team callously threw their jockstraps and assorted underwear into the hamper, occasionally - sometimes purposefully - throwing them at Brent. The perpetually cheery husky didn't take offence, merely laughed and tossed the jockstraps back into the hamper. Sometimes, he'd snatch one out and snap it at some guy's ass as revenge.

Wherever Brent went, sunshine and joy just seemed to follow. Brad shook his head in wonder as the burly husky would just walk up to an exhausted, miserable member of the team, ask for their jockstrap and them make some joke. Laughter usually followed. At one time, he actually stole a particularly wiped team member's jockstrap and paraded it around the locker room, lifting it high into the air like a slightly soiled white flag. The team member found some untapped well of energy and managed to chase him down. Brent threw the jockstrap into an occupied shower stall and the team mate immediately purposed it. He then made a rather loud joke about the two team mates having an 'underwear and gym shower fetish'.

He was chased around the locker room for that.

The entire team dog piled on him but they all broke into laughter, patting his back and treating them like one of their own even if he was just the water boy.

Brad realised that he had spent the better part of half an hour watching Brent's antics. As the last team member departed with a cheery wave towards Brent, he realised that he had forgotten to ask any of them where Bart was.

"Dang..."

"Oh! You're still here?"

For some reason, his heart skipped a beat when the big Husky wheeled the cart full of jockstraps towards him. He cringed at the sight of all the dirty athletic supporters and took a step back away from the smell.

"Not a big fan of stained underwear, huh?" Brent asked.

"Not at all..."

"It's okay. That's why I'm going to get them nice and squeaky clean!" The husky grinned. "But first..."

Brad's jaw dropped when the husky peeled off his collared shirt and tossed it in with the jockstraps. He neatly folded his school slacks, revealing the jockstrap that contained a monster of a package.

"Whoa!" Brad exclaimed, leaping back. "What are you doing!?"

"Free laundry!" Brent answered, taking off his jockstrap and tossing it into the pile.

Brad was a little surprised to find that the husky's cock was quite... human in appearance. Sure it was an unusual shade of bright pink for a human but it still had that mushroom-shaped head. He expected a pointed rocket hidden instead a furry sheath.

"Eyes up here, sport."

Brad snapped his attention back towards Brent and blushed furiously.

"You sure you're straight?"

Brad felt a burst of courage bubble up inside him. "Hey, only a guy secure in his sexuality would stare at another guy's junk. It's just a nice dick, is all."

Brent gave him a raised eyebrow for that. "Oh really? I noticed you never said exactly which sexuality you were so sure about.

Damn. Forgot that detail.

Still, that courage remained. "Why? You hoping for some results from flashing your dick around?"

The husky threw his head back with a laugh. "Touché." He flashed a grin at the smaller human. "Well then, let me ask you this, straight-man. Is this too gay for you?"

He took a step towards Brad.

As much as Brad wanted to step away, he maintained his position. Gay chicken was a game he and Brent often played. Their dad was completely and utter against it but most of the time, the twins just did it to see their father's reactions. They both knew they were straight but their father still had doubts and it was hilarious watching him panic.

Brad was well versed in these competitions.

"Depends," he answered cockily, daring a step closer. "Is this too gay for you?"

The husky smirked and loomed over the human. With a delicate touch, he cupped Brad's chin with his left paw. "Do I look hard to you?"

Brad almost flicked his gaze towards Brent's dick when he realised it was a trick. If he looked, he was gay. "Nice try," he answered, suddenly lashing out and seizing the husky's cock. He actually felt the canine tense and there was a brief instant where he almost pulled away. Brent's tail was also slipped between his legs. "But I can feel a bit of blood there. Your balls churning?"

"Maybe," Brent answered, leaning closer to Brad, their noses almost touching. "You going to admit you're a faggot?"

To answer that...

Brad kissed him.

Lesson Four: Seize the Opportunity

Bart complained of a stomach ache at lunch and barely touched his heaping portion of steak, corn and peas. Brad finished it off for him and called their dad shortly after a visit to the nurse's office. Nurse Jenkins - who was actually a guy and one of the assistant coaches - told the boys it might just be a bit of indigestion from something he ate.

Recommendation: go home for some rest.

Bart complied but there was one snag in their plans.

Their dad was still at work.

It was a good think that Nurse Jenkins was an assistant coach because Coach Steele was more than happy to get his son to drive Bart home and make sure he was alright. Brad bid his brother goodbye - or rather, 'see you at home, later' - and then returned to class.

Once again though, the younger brother was stuck with no date to the prom and no way of scoping out whether or not Bart had managed to get a date yet. When he ran through the previous day's events, trying to think about any potential teams he could join, his memory came to a grinding halt right about the time he decided to wait for Bart at the tennis courts. It was almost like his memory just skipped that part and just went to the bit where he was at home and Bart was complaining about headaches.

Brad was about to give him hell about not being at practice but he couldn't clearly remember whether or not his brother was there or not. He had a feeling but no solid evidence. When in a relationship with a twin brother, evidence was everything.

There was something he remembered during his time waiting for his brother, however. Or rather, some_one_.

Brent Denton.

The big husky was the reason he knew he had sat around waiting for his brother. He spent the rest of the day looking for Brent but noticed that he wasn't in any of Brad's classes. Not that hard, really as there were thirty individual class groups in each year level, each consisting of at least twenty eight students.

When the last bell rang for the day, he decided to see if Brent was at the tennis courts. Sure enough, when he arrived there was the tennis team hitting balls at one another with racquets. Brent was leaning against one of the umpire's stands, guzzling an energy drink. He looked particularly sweaty despite the fact the temperature was cooling down.

Fall well and truly was amongst them.

"Hey Brent!"

The husky snorted in his drink, spewing blue liquid from his nostrils. The sports drink splattered down his perfectly white shirt. His perfectly white,sweaty shirt which was now messed with specks of blue.

Laughing, Brad sauntered up to the husky and leaned on the opposite side of the umpire's chair.

"What're you laughing at?" the husky growled mockingly. "You realise this is your fault."

"Probably. Doesn't mean I'm sorry though."

"Oh you will be!"

Brad suddenly found himself soaked with the blue sports drink, spluttering and with his eyes stinging slightly. Despite the fact that his expensive school uniform was now soaked in salty, sticky blue fluids buzzing with electrolytes, he couldn't help but laugh. He grabbed the closest thing he could which was actually a spare racquet. He swatted at Brent and the husky skipped backwards, squirting him with a stream of blue for his miss.

"Hey! Not fair! You've got range!"

He got squirted again. "Ha! Face it. I'm bigger than you in every way!"

Brad decided to prove that size didn't matter. He threw the racquet which was really a dangerous move but he knew Brent would dodge it. The husky's eyes were flicked to the left, watching the racquet sail by but in that instant he wasn't looking at Brad, the smaller human barrelled straight into him. The two boys fell to the floor, laughing and giggling as they playfully tumbled over one another.

Somehow, Brad ended up on top.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, pounding Brent's very impressive pecs. "Size doesn't matter!"

"Yeah, yeah." Brent rolled his eyes. "Now get off me before people start thinking you're going to rape me."

A chill ran down Brad's spine. "What!?"

"Dude. We're sticky, wet, sweaty and your dick is two inches away from my muzzle. You do the math."

Brad gave out short yelp and scrambled off Brent.

WHAM!

Only to get slammed to the ground, the bigger canine boy suddenly on top of him.

"You're right," the husky laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "Size doesn't matter but clearly, you don't have anything else to prove otherwise." He winked at Brad. The young boy's heart fluttered and he almost heart a faint bell-like chime when Brent's left eye closed briefly.

"Now come on," Brent said, rising to his feet and dusting off his bare knees. "I don't really want to be standing around sticky for the rest of the day. Plus, I'll bet your dad will kill you if you come home sticky like that."

Brad remembered that with Bart at home, he wouldn't have any reason to be hanging back in school. While he didn't think his father would particularly mind if he stayed back for a friend, Walter Delacroix would surely blow a gasket if he found out his son's uniform was covered the sticky residue of a sports drink.

Groaning, Brad rose to his feet and was glad he had packed his blazer into his backpack. Only his shirt, slacks and underwear were soiled.

"Let's go get all that washed up," Brent said, offering his paw. "It won't be dry by then but I'm pretty sure you won't mind walking home in your sports uniform, do you?"

Best idea he had heard all day.

Eagerly agreeing, Brad took Brent's paw and the duo headed back into the gymnasium. It was only when the stink of the locker rooms hit him that Brad realised he was still holding Brent's paw. While his reflexes told him to pull away, there was another part of him that didn't want to insult Brent by any sudden movements. A very small part also kind of, sort of, maybe, possibly liked holding the big husky's paw.

When Brent pulled away, however, every fibre of his being was replaced with the undeniable sensation of being left alone and missing the husky's touch.

"Alright. We've got enough time before the rest of the team gets here to do two batches. One for our white clothing and the one for your slacks. You okay with that?"

Brad numbly nodded as he probed that odd feeling of absence in his very soul. His lips quivered as he watched the big husky peel off his sticky shirt. A fit of laughter escaped him when the husky got stuck halfway and flailed about a little as the stickiness had almost bound his shirt to that muscular torso. Like watching a present slowly being unpeeled, Brad found himself eagerly anticipating another inch of juicy, muscular, fur-covered flesh.

Brent tossed his shirt to the side and instantly began pulling off his shorts. A white jockstrap barely contained the monster inside and Brad felt that sensation in him evolve into a yearning he never felt before. He wanted to see that cock. More... he wanted to touch it... feel what a real man felt like.

"You going to get undressed or do you want me to turn around?" Brent asked.

Shaking his head, Brad furiously tried to unbutton his shirt while not-so-subtly trying to keep his eyes on Brent. A deep blush formed on his cheeks as Brent turned around, revealing his sculpted, bubble butt. When the jockstrap came off, Brad almost wailed in despair - a realisation that both confused and frightened him.

Brad found himself undressed and desperately trying tell his own cock not to get too excited. For that purpose, he kept his white pair of briefs on. It barely held the growing tent but it was subtle enough to just look like a bulge.

"Didn't get into your underwear, huh?" Brent asked over his shoulder. He pulled a laundry cart around, somehow managing to block his crotch area with each movement. Brad was steadily growing frustrated for reasons he couldn't describe and absently tossed his clothing into the hamper.

He walked beside and just a little ahead of Brent, trying to cast a glimpse of that cock. Whether it was the movement of his legs or the presence of that hamper, Brent magically seemed to keep his privates from view like some crazy censorship conspiracy.

Something in Brad was telling him to pounce the husky there and then, slam him against the lockers, give him one good, lock kiss and then touch, feel, fondle and do all sorts of crazy things to that cock.

"Given any more thought to what you're going to do for the prom?" Brent asked suddenly as they entered the laundry room. The aroma of manly sweat was replaced by the overpowering odour of bleach and laundry soap.

"Um... Not sure I want to go anymore..." he answered, slowly bringing his higher cognitive functions back online. "Especially if I'm going to go with someone who isn't important to me."

"Hey, take your brother!" Brent laughed, opening on of the top loaders and throwing in their sticky clothing. "You know how many chicks would want to do it with twins? It's like a threesome with the same guy! I bet it'd blow their minds!"

"You'd think so..." Brad murmured.

"No payoff with the girls for just being twins, huh?"

"Plenty of payoff," Brad chuckled. "Not enough places to 'bury the treasure'."

The husky threw his head back with a laugh. "Ha! I like that one!" He grinned broadly at Brad. "But I don't see what that's the case. I mean girls have two holes, right? Three if you call the mouth." He winked that dreamy wink back at Brad. "Too bad guys only have two, right?"

For some reason, that sent off alarm bells in Brad's brain. "What?"

"Nothing," Brent answered innocently with his arms crossed.

It was only then did Brad realise that Brent was standing completely naked and with no laundry hamper to block the view of that cock. As if peering down the rabbit hole for the first time, Brad slowly tipped his head down... and found himself staring at a flaccid, fur-covered cock. Unlike the sheaths of most canines that were fused with their lower bellies, Brent's looked like it was a cross between human and canine. The pink, mushroom head poked slightly out of the furry sheath like that fuzzy container wasn't big enough to contain the monster.

And it was a monster as well.

Eight inches flaccid.

For a canine, that was damn impressive.

Though... Brad didn't know why he knew so much about canine anatomy...

"Something up, man?" Brent asked over the roar of the washing machine.

Brad massaged the side of his head slightly. "Just... a little headache," he lied. He had a headache alright but it wasn't the head attached to his neck.

Brent didn't miss that.

"Heh, thinking about a girl you like?"

Blushing and turning away, Brad didn't reply as his briefs became uncomfortably tight. His cock was pressing up against the fabric. He was too proud to adjust himself even as precum began staining the essential white of his underwear.

"Don't be like that," Brent laughed. "Come on man, we're friends, right? You can tell me who you've got to hots for."

"Dude, I've only known you for two days."

"Funny..." Brent whispered softly. "Feels like I've known you my whole life..."

Brad's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't bear to have Brent take those words back or call them nothing because for some reason he couldn't fathom - but his cock apparently knew - he cherished every syllable that dropped out of Brent's gorgeous, totally kissable lips.

"I... I don't think it's a good idea..." he murmured softly.

Brad was starting to feel a little hot under the proverbial collar. Sweat was staring to roll off his shoulders even if he wasn't normally a guy that sweat a lot. His muscles felt a little cramped and as he made a few subtle movements, they would have the blood rush out of them before just filling up again. Every inch of him wanted to move, to get him out of that place away from the husky that... well... he wasn't quite ready to admit to anything yet.

Apparently, Brent thought otherwise.

Two, huge, muscular arms wrapped around his waist, their soft fur brushing against his bare skin. "I do..."

Brad moaned as the pressure against his cock intensified.

Rrrrrip!

His cock burst from his briefs, a proud, standing foot long monster that was dripping slimy, clear fluids everywhere.

"Holy shit!" he cried.

"Brad..."

He spun towards Brent.

The husky's eyes stared at him dreamily.

"Kiss me."

...

They kissed.

Lesson Five: When in Doubt, Go for It

The next day was just a blur for Brad.

A blur that somehow formed into the shape of Brent Denton.

He couldn't get the husky out of his head! After getting home late after school, he had greeted his brother dully and then went straight to bed, fantasising about Brent. He didn't remember what happened after he had stripped in front of Brent but he remembered enough that he was seriously getting a crush on the husky!

It frightened him... but also made him a little giddy.

He had never felt this way about anyone before. Every thought, every breath, every cell in his body was dedicated to Brent. There was just something in him that kept telling him that Brent was the one for him!

As much as it scared him, he was comforted by the fact that Knothole High was really a very tolerant place. Well... not tolerant. More... accepting. Yes the jocks used the word 'faggot' here and there, using 'gay' as a derogatory term but more often than not, the accused would just bound up to their rival, plant one on their muzzle and then walk away, tail raised in triumph. The offender would just woof and ask for the guy's number very loudly.

The more he looked, the more Brad realised just how gay Knothole High was. All that testosterone was being shoved right back into the very guys that emitted them. Either all the huge canines were comfortable in their masculinity that they didn't mind a little fooling around... or they really were gay.

But that was impossible, Brad told himself. There were over a thousand canines in Knothole High. Not all of them could be gay.

Could they?

He shook his head of the thought and sat down to eat his steak.

"Hey..."

His heart skipped a beat.

"Hey Bre -" He stopped himself when his brother sat down beside him. "...art. Hey Bart."

Bart gave him a puzzled look. "Why did you repeat yourself?"

He thought fast. "Because it's Repeat Day. Because it's Repeat Day."

"You're just an ass," his brother laughed half-heartedly. Then, just to emphasise the point, "You're just an ass."

Brad smiled gently and pushed his food away. "You feeling any better?"

He didn't look any better. Bart looked like he hadn't slept all night and he had this spooked expression on his face. That morning, Brad hadn't seen his brother wake up or take a shower. In fact, he sort of still stank. Kind of stank like wet dog.

"I'm... Alright," Bart whispered softly. "Listen... Um... Do you know a guy named Brent Denton...?"

At the sound of the name, Brad's heart fluttered.

That did it.

He was in love.

Or at least had a crush.

A crush on a guy.

Damnit.

"Yeah... He's a good friend." Brad coughed. "Listen, Bart... About our deal..."

"Let's call it off, okay?" Bart finished for him. An example of that twin telepathy. "I... I really don't think I'm going to get a girl by prom..."

"Does that mean I win?" Brad asked, grinning broadly.

"I guess..." Bart took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "Brad... There's something I need to tell you..."

Before he could finish, however, his phone rang. A quick glance at it and Bart excused himself, walking out of the cafeteria before answering the phone.

Brad was slightly relieved that he didn't have to go through with that stupid bet but also disappointed and worried about his brother. When Bart didn't come back for the rest of lunch, Brad went looking for him. It just seemed like his brother had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Even during one of the classes they usually shared, he was absent.

Now he was getting really worried again. Did Bart end up getting sent home again?

When PE came rolling in at the end of the day, Brad approached Coach Steele and asked him if he had seen his brother. The Coach sadly shook his head and honestly wished that Bart would get better soon. Apparently, he was an asset to the tennis team.

At the end of the day, however, Brad's heart fluttered when hung around the tennis courts eagerly awaiting for that gorgeous husky that had stolen his heart without him knowing it. Sure enough, there was Brent making jokes about 'ball boys' while the rest of the team giggled on.

Brad just sat on the bleachers, watching the big canine move. He still couldn't believe how someone so big, so enthusiastic about his health wasn't part of a sports team. Brent looked leaner, more proportionate and goddamn sexy. Some teams had bigger shoulders, bigger legs or bulging arms because of the muscles they emphasized but Brent was just perfect all around.

Perfect...

Tennis practice ended and Brad ended his ogling, heading down the bleachers to leave. He wasn't ready to profess his affection to Brent yet. He wanted to pass it by Bart first... then maybe their dad.

"Yo! Brad!"

He spun as the husky bounded over to him.

Before he could reply, he was being encased in a massive, muscular, furry hug, pressed into the valley of thick pectoral muscles with his chest rubbing against the firm ridges of a defined six pack. The scent of sweat, man and dog was mixed with a faint pinecone smell. Brad inhaled that scent deeply, his eyes fluttering briefly in tandem with his heart.

He was pushed away from that tremendous chest to meet the husky's grinning face. "Dude, you weren't going to leave without saying hi, were you?"

"Like you wouldn't have chased me down," Brad laughed back. "It's like you're after my ass!"

Brent smirked at that. They both knew it was a leading remark and they were both too intelligent to know where it was leading.

"You want to stay out here for a while and wait until the guys finish showering?" Brent asked.

Again, they both knew what that meant.

"Yeah."

They sat on the bleachers, just watching the normally busy school winding down as the extra currircular sports left and returned to home in anticipation of the prom in two days. Brad was well aware of the proximity of his hand to the bigger boy's paw and was very subtly trying to slide it over so that their pinkies touched.

Brent threw that plan out the window... Simply by taking his hand, holding it firmly and resting it on his thighs.

His heart fluttered again.

"So... Does this mean we're boyfriends now...?" Brad asked gently.

"If you want," Brent answered with a smirk. "Of course, we could just be fuck buddies." His eyes said he didn't want to be fuck buddies.

"First time I've ever heard you say 'fuck' without you quoting someone."

Brent leaned in, nuzzling him tenderly. The touch of his fur and whisker not to mention the proximity of his lips to Brad's made the world seem almost like a dream. "Well we can change that..." And that dream was suddenly shattered... when Brent began thrusting his hips lewdly at Brad, uttering 'Fuck' with every jerk.

"Fucktard!" Brad laughed, pushing him away. They regarded each other, eyes locked and smiling. Brad felt like such an idiot just smiling at the husky like that. "You know... I'm not even sure if I'm gay or not."

"Liking a guy doesn't make you gay," Brent replied with a smile. "This could just be a fling. A little crush. Yeah, I like you too but who knows what the future holds, right? We might have a traumatic breakup. We mind end up getting girlfriends. But the important thing is..." He took Brad's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Right now, I like you, Brad. I really like you. Not going to say 'love' yet. Still early for that."

Brad nodded sagely. "Yeah. Not love. Yet."

Their smiles turned into smirks.

One of the tennis players greeted them, waving at them as he departed. Brad was tempted to pull away but Brent - being Brent - lifted their intertwined hand-and-paw, using that to wave at the players. As if realising that they didn't have to hide in front of Brad, two of the players actually kissed before going their separate ways. Another one gripped the ass of a fourth and the two ran towards the carpark.

"Is everyone in this school gay?" Brad laughed.

"Everyone human."

He regarded the canine curiously. "Huh...?"

Brent gave him a knowing smile. The sun caught his brown and white fur in just the right way that small rainbows broke the light from the droplets of sweat that matted his fure. "Let me show you something..."

Brad let the husky guide him into the locker rooms which was now quiet and devoid of life. Tiny droplets of waters would occasionally break the silence, bringing a soft staccato of delicate splashes. The odour of the room's common residents still hung in the air but with Brent so close, the scent died and blended slightly with the aromatic husky's odour.

They went to one of the far corner lockers. It was unusually large and as Brent unlocked it, a mess of supplies spilled out. Brad realised from the numerous bandages, protein shake bases and copious towels that this was Brent's locker. Pressed right up against the back of the locker was a mirror.

Brent slid in behind Brad, holding the boy's waists gently in his paws. Slowly, those paws slid over to Brad's belt buckle.

"Whoa, wait -"

"Trust me," Brent whispered in his ear.

Trusting a guy that he knew for just three days?

Sure, why not?

He was in love.

Brad relaxed and Brent worked to wiggle his pants off. Once the school slacks were on the floor, Brad blushed a little as his cock made a very visible, very wet stained tent against his white briefs. Brent hooked the elastic rim of his underwear and slowly, very delicately, pulled it down.

Part of Brad was a little scared that Brent wouldn't like the look of his six inch cock.

To his surprise, Brent didn't seem to care and simply pulled off his own shorts. Brad found himself wanting to pull away from the mirror, to turn around and see the husky's cock. When he saw the husky pull off his jockstrap, that yearning grew more...

Until Brent gently brushed that same jockstrap against his nose.

Brad's eyelids fluttered as he took a whiff of concentrated, odour de Brent. His cock twitched in anticipation, shivers running down his entire body. Brent pulled the source of his magnificent scent away from Brad's nose, gently cupping the jockstrap against Brad's cock.

"Put it on."

"Huh...?" Brad asked, partially drunk on the husky's scent.

"Trust me, Brad. Put it on."

So Brent was into underwear was he?

Sure.

Brad could dig that.

Grinning a little foolishly, he took the jockstrap from the husky and wiggled it up to cover his crotch. The warm fabric made him shudder all the more. It was almost like actually rubbing his cock against Brent's.

"It's a little big..."

It was really big. Brad had to hold it up just so that it wouldn't fall embarrassingly onto the floor.

"You'll grow into it."

"What...?"

Brad found the husky's lips pressed against his lightly. One finger lightly cupped his chin and turned his head back towards the mirror.

"Just watch."

Brad's eyes swivelled back towards the mirror. Brent's paws slowly slid over to his crotch, cupping the jockstrap there and holding it in position. Having the big canine's paws so close to his cock just made his pulsing manhood jump in delight. He blushed a little when he cock pressed up against the fabric of the jockstrap, eager to have Brent touch it.

Brent squeezed lightly.

Brad let out a soft moan. Liquid fire coursed through his veins at that moment, weakening his knees and bringing on a swoon. Brent's strong, free paw caught him and held him still.

"Just keep watching."

Brad kept his eyes fixed on the mirror...

... and couldn't believe his eyes.

The burning warmth that seeped through his veins... Rather, his veins. He watched them press up against the skin on his thighs. Were the heat slowly pumped itself through his flesh, he could see the veins popping out! Where the thick, purple snakes touched, the muscle thickened and grew. Right before his eyes, he watched his thighs harden and bulge out, pressing against one another.

"Oh my..."

"Watch..." Brent soothed.

He watched.

The veins crawled down to his calves, twisting out of view but he could feel them pumping more and more mass into his muscles. He shivered with an odd sense of delight as muscle pushed up against skin, drawing his flesh tightly. A grunt escaped him as the veins disappeared into his shoes. He desperately kicked them off.

His toes began pressing up against the fabric of his grey socks, stretching the fabric. Brad was half dazed when his big toe burst out from the sock. The hole quickly grew bigger as the rest of his foot slid out of the hole, pushing his sock down towards the middle of his foot. The sole of his feet erupted out of the sock as well, effectively turning it into a pair of ankle warmers and some tube of tightening fabric settling in the middle of his foot.

He felt the warmth suddenly creeping into his abdomen and Brad pulled up his shirt. Awed, he watched his reflection slowly grow veins that crawled up his belly, cutting the vague shape of a chiselled set of abs. Muscle quickly followed the template of his veins, absorbing them as they migrated further and further upwards.

"Oh god..." he moaned, blood pumping fiercely into his heart. Uncontrollable pleasure burst forth from his chest the instant the veins coalesced over his chest. With an audible rrrip, his chest burst from his shirt, throwing his collared school shirt to the ground in a burst of muscle. A pair of square, firm pecs bounced above his chiselled six pack.

Brad was in euphoria. The heat inside him was just constantly building and building. Deep inside each of his muscles, it felt like there was an iron hot rod that he was trying to contain... but he didn't want to contain it. A growl rolled from his widening throat as his shoulders exploded outwards and he flexed both biceps for the mirror. Huge, watermelon-sized bulges appeared against his arms, veined and juicy.

"What's is this...?" he whispered, grinning at his new, amazingly ripped body. His jaw broadened a little, taking on a distinct square shape.

"It's you," Brent answered, curling his arms again around him. Both paws pressed down on that jockstrap which now fit quite snugly around Brad's junk. "It gets better."

White hairs began to spring up in the valley of Brad's chest at a rapid rate. The young man watched in total awe and fascination as the hairs rapidly populated his pectorals and crawled down to his abs. It was like watching a forest grow in fast forward. It seeped down the crevices of his abs and disappeared into the jockstrap.

He had to know.

He pulled at the jockstrap.

And grinned.

He spun to face Brent, wrapping his new, muscular arms around the husky.

"You like?" the husky asked with a soft chuckle.

"I love." He planted his lips lightly on the husky's muzzle before pulling away the next second. "And I'm not talking about the sudden, unexplainable muscle growth."

Lesson Six: Pick your Targets

Normally, someone would be totally freaked out about the fact that he turned into a black and white husky with chiselled abs, a perfectly proportionate body and killer smile. But in reality, Brad was disappointed that he went back to being boring old, Brad Delacroix at the end of the day.

Sure, the sex was great.

Hell, it was fucking great.

He remembered every moment of it.

His ass still tingled from the hard ride that Brent took him on and he was just about to return the favour when Coach Steele interrupted them. The Coach didn't seem to mind catching the two canines screwing on the locker room floor but he reminded them that it was nearing six o'clock and their parents were going to get worried. The Coach offered them a ride.

Brad wanted to ask what was going on but every time he opened his lips to ask, his left hand reminded him that he shouldn't care. Grasped tightly by the towering Brent, Brad just didn't care. When he got back home, he jumped straight to bed, grinning broadly.

He wanted to tell his dad and brother that he had a boyfriend but in reality, what could he tell them? He turned into a muscular, sweaty husky and had some wild sex in the locker rooms? So he just avoided them.

The next morning, he practically sped out of the home eager to get back to school and see Brent again. More than anything, he wanted to ask his boyfriend to the prom. Okay, so some part of him also wanted to rub his prom plans in his brother's face but first, he had to get his date to say 'yes'.

He took the early bus to get to Knothole High but even after thirty minutes of before-homeroom-searching, he couldn't find Brent. The tennis courts, locker rooms or even every classroom, he didn't find him.

Five minutes before the first bell heralded the start of the school day, he rammed into someone he wasn't quite expecting.

"Bart!" he exclaimed, beaming brightly.

His brother looked a little spooked... but also a little relieved. In no way did he seem any better. Thick bags lay heavily under his eyes and it looked he had replaced his eyes with puffy, partially rotted tomatoes. Still, the smile on his face had this tinge of 'I'm glad to see you' and 'I missed you this morning'.

"Hey there..." his brother croaked softly. It sounded like he either had a frog in his throat or he was going through puberty again. He actually looked a little leaner now and definitely with a little more muscle. Whatever training he was undergoing was certainly working.

The horny canine in Brad's head suspected that his brother might just be in the stages of being turned himself and that excited him.

"You don't look so good," Brad observed. "Want me to grab Coach Steele so he can drive you home?" He purposefully mentioned the Coach because he just instinctively knew Steele had some part in the transformation.

"No... No," Bart answered, shaking his head lightly. "I... I just came to tell you that..." He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I've got a date to the prom..."

Instead of a burst of annoyance, Brad felt excitement and pride instead. "Really? That's great! I do too!"

His brother looked surprised. "You do?"

"Well... Assuming they say 'yes'."

Bart chuckled softly. "Oh... So you don't have a date yet. You're just holding out, right?"

"Pretty much!" Brad laughed, absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess we'll see whose date is hotter tomorrow, right?"

"We sure will," Bart chuckled softly. "We sure will..." His eyes suddenly seemed so clear as he straightened with the ringing of the day's first bell. "I'll see you around, Brad."

"Later!" Brad replied, waving for after his brother.

The rest of the day was quite dull as Brad desperately searched for Brent. He purposefully took window seats and hoped that he could spy his boyfriend out the windows somehow. No dice. When lunch came rolling around, he headed into the locker rooms, looking for Brent.

Nothing.

He walked over to Brent's corner locker, running the memory of watching himself change into that muscular, well-proportioned husky as his boyfriend's paws ran all over him. The touch of their tongues as their muzzles collided in passionate lust still rang fresh in his mind. Brad had to adjust himself a little.

His eyes caught sight of something white hanging on top of the locker. Curious, he gripped it, feeling the elastic fabric of a jockstrap and pulled it down. His heart froze for a second as he brought the jockstrap to his nose and took a good, long whiff.

It was Brent's.

He just knew it.

Shivering with delight, he quickly removed his pants and tossed aside his underwear. He slipped the jockstrap on and even though it didn't fit very well, bringing up his pants and tightening the belt firmly seemed to hold it in place. That and his boner was more than enough to hold it up.

Brad wandered out of the locker rooms and was a little surprised to find the blinds to Coach Steele's office were shut. Usually, the big, floor-to-ceiling windows were open and it was possible to see the Coach inside doing some paperwork. Once again, curiosity got the better of him and Brad walked over to the door.

He knocked once.

Someone grunted inside. "Come in."

Brad pushed the door open.

Part of him was surprised to see Coach Steele's bare, chiselled chest sweaty and the tremendous scent of_canine_ male in the air. The Coach was making some rather powerful thrusts under his desk and from the loud slurping sounds, someone was under the desk.

"Come on in, Brad."

Unable to keep a grin from his face, Brad stepped into the office and took a seat. His cock was pressing up against Brent's jockstrap and his own pants, screaming at him to throw that desk aside, toss his clothes in the corner and stick his cock deep into whoever was under there.

"How can I - urg, that's good - How can I help you, son?" Coach Steele asked, barely conscious. His left eye was shut, probably trying to keep his lust all bottled up in the presence of Brad. His other one was had this dazed film over it, making him seem a little unfocused.

"Don't need to hold back on my account, Coach," Brad answered with a grin. "I don't know what's going on but seriously, I'm in!"

"That's - oh fuck - That's good to hear... Rare to get... shit boy, you give good head..." The Coach shook his head slightly. "Sorry... Little distracted, you know?" He gave Brad a lopsided grin which Brad eagerly returned. "Rare to get someone so... fuuuuuck... So willing... Urgh..."

"You kidding!?" Brad laughed, spreading his arms out wide. "It's the best feeling in the world! I love it! Why would people not want this?"

"People are scared of... of... of... Slow down kid..." The Coach let out a soft sigh and the slurping sounds faded. The undertones of a paw running over a thick piece of stick, precum covered meat replaced it instead, followed by the sound of a dog's tongue lapping up at the Coach's manhood. "That's better... Brad, son, people are scared of what they don't know... If it's something they don't understand, there are usually two approaches... Either kill it or dissect it. Either way, death is around the corner."

"That's morbid..." Brad commented, his boner dying just very slightly.

"Tell me about it... But in the end, all we Steeles do is just bring out what's already inside everyone in Knothole High."

"You mean you can't just turn anyone?"

Steele shook his head. "No..."His eyes suddenly sprang open and he arched his back. "Oh shit! What're you - Oh! Oooooh!" He let out a soft moan and began thrusting his hips upwards. "Fuck boy... that's... aww yeah... just like that..."

Brad was fully hard again. What he wouldn't give to see what was under that table!

"Why do you think Knothole is so selective on who enters?" the Coach asked, barely able to get the words out. "We... Urgh..." He face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain. "The screenings... the tests, the interview... It's all to find the right kind of person."

"Right person?"

"Your scent, son. Some people just... have the scent. We call it the 'Steele Gene'. Gives off a special... fuck... I'm getting close... A special scent we Steeles pick up. Every human we pick to enter the school, teacher, student, janitor, they all have the gene. And we Steeles... we just active them."

"You picked us out because of how I smelled?"

The Coach gave Brad a lewd grin. "Among other things... Oooooh!" He moaned and from the look on his face, he was really getting close. Brad wasn't ashamed to have his hand down his pants and seizing his cock. "Your family... is also important... Got to be... all males... Hard to find these days... Can't have a mom running around... Females don't have the Steele Gene."

So the Coach picked people who not only had the Gene but also came from a family that only consisted of males.

"Wait..." Brad began, a grin crossing his features. "Does that mean my dad and brother..."

"Yeah, Brad..." Coach Steele suddenly grit his teeth. "Oh YEAH!"

The table jolted beneath him and actually jumped a little towards Brad. A huge torrent of white semen exploded from under the table, gushing upwards and splattering Coach Steele, completely covering him. Brad was hit with the overpowering scent of male sex and he could feel his alter-ego, Brody if he remembered correctly, slowly coming out.

He told Brody to be a little patient first. There was the rest of the school day to go and it'd be hard to find clothes without Brent to give him a fresh supply. Brody complied but made his cock twitch in anticipation.

Brad grinned and slowly removed himself from his seat as Coach Steele lapped up the fifth burst of cum from his partner.

"Thanks for the info, Coach. I'll be back."

"Glad to have you on the team, Brody."

His whole body shivered at that name.

He liked it.

Brody.

Lesson Seven: Know Where to Run

Bad news waited for him back home.

The instant he saw the flashing red and blue lights in the distance, he knew something had happened.

When Brad pushed past the police officers, he found his dad on the couch, holding a crumpled note.

"He's gone, Brad," Walter choked, tears running down his rugged face. "He ran away..."

All the note said was 'I've gone to a better place'.

The investigators noted that the handwriting was totally different to Bart's normal script and kidnapping was raised as a possibility. In fact, it was a high possibility and Brad was interrogated fiercely. One of the officers, Officer McManus, was particularly interested in how Bart was at school and his last words to Brad.

Kidnapping turned to 'eloping' but a 14 year-old eloping...?

That just seemed absurd.

Bart sat on the couch, hugging his father tightly as they were questioned. When the officers had finished their line of questioning, they left. Bart noticed that there were quite a few big, burly canines in the unit and all of them sniffed the air before leaving. They gave Bart a look and he winked at them just to test the waters. All of them winked back. One even grinned, patting him on the shoulder and said, 'We'll have you back with your brother soon, son.'

That comforted him.

He guided his father to his bed and went to his own. There was a storm of possibilities swirling around in his head but he wasn't quite sure yet which one was correct.

It was at that moment, that his phone rang.

He answered it without thinking.

"Hey Brody."

His cock was instantly hard.

Not only because he was called 'Brody'... but because it was from Brent.

"How did you...?"

"Just trust me. Come to the locker rooms at school. Gates are wide open and so are the doors. I'll see you soon."

He hung up.

The jockstrap around Brad's crotch seemed to tighten a little and he had to adjust his shirt collar. He could feel Brody's excitement rolling out of him. Throwing caution into the wind, he bolted out the door, ran to the nearest bus stop and rode it all the way back to Knothole High. He was practically brimming with energy the entire trip and Brody was banging at the borders of his body, begging to get out and leap into Brent's arms once more.

But Brad kept him in check, barely.

The bus was full, after all and the last thing he wanted was to go all werewolf on these poor folks.

When he reached the school, true to Brent's words, the gates were wide open. He bolted through, crossing the parking lot and heading straight for the gym. About halfway, his feet began to ache in his shoes. Brad stopped, tore them off, ripping his socks off his feet and ran the rest of the way barefoot. His tongue was hanging out by the time he entered the locker rooms.

There was that scent of male sex again.

But above it all... he smelled Brent.

Leaning casually against one of the red lockers, muscles brimming past the gorgeous reddish-brown fur with a white chest crest and naked with his 14 inch cock sticking out and proud from a furry sheath... was Brent.

Brad grinned and sauntered over to his boyfriend, slowly unbuttoning his shirt partially because he wanted to jump straight into the sex and partially because it was getting tight around his chest. His husky caught sight of him and grinned broadly.

"Hey Brody."

God that name...

So tough... so masculine...

So him.

Brad grinned and cupped the husky's balls in his hands. "Noticed you're all canine now." The husky's cock had lost that mushroom-like head and was now a pointed rocket of penetration, dripping with precum. A knot was already starting to form at the lip of his sheath. "When do I get one?"

Their lips touched briefly. Brad groaned softly, his voice dropping several octaves with every note that rippled out of his lips.

"Be patient, Brody. It's all part of the plan."

Brad moaned softly as his cock pressed up against his pants, already slowly tearing away at his school slacks. Brent's eyes looked down curiously as he spotted the piece of white jockstrap in the midst of cheap, dark grey uniform fabric.

"Are you wearing my jockstrap?" he asked.

Grinning, Brad wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him into a deep kiss. As their tongues pulled away from one another for a breath, he said, "Are you complaining?"

Brent chuckled and gently guided Brad over to one of the benches, settling him down lying on top of him. "Not at all, Brody."

A deep, primal growl ripped through Brad's chest as the rest of his shirt fell away with a titanic rip. Brody was coming out, a raving animal desperately wanting to fuck their boyfriend. The bestial husky was thrusting their hips into Brent's, moaning softly. Frustration emanated from the animal as Brad held on tightly, grinning a little sadistically as he wanted this moment to last forever.

"Fuck... I love that name..." he murmured softly.

"It's your name," Brent answered, nuzzling him gently while his paws slowly slid up his singlet.

Where his paws touched, firm, hard muscle pressed back. One ab at a time, his chest grew hardened and defined. Brad's spine twisted and lengthened, growing vertebrae. Brad cold feel his progress as his sensitive nipples rushed upwards, running through the forest of Brent's thick fur. His nose slid between the valleys of Brent's pecs, rolled up that strong collarbone, over the corded neck muscles and finally met his boyfriend's lips without the husky having to leaned down.

"Say it again..." he whispered.

Brent leaned down, his lips hovering right over Brad's ears. "Brody."

"Ooooh yeah..."

Brody surged out, empowered by the sound of his name. He shoved his tail right out of the tip of Brad's spine, wagging it excitedly as his thighs merged with Brad's. Massive, quads grew to match Brent's, the perfect, hard lines forming in just the right way that as the two boy's thighs met, they fit perfectly together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Shit..." Brad moaned, putting his new legs to good use. He wrapped them tightly around Brent's waist, lifting his ass high enough so that the husky's dripping cock just touched his hungry ass. "I need you in me, Brent..."

"Anything you say..." Brent smirked, drawing out every syllable of, "Brody..."

Brad's whole body shuddered as Brody's strength ripped through his chest. His singlet tore down the middle. Pectoral muscles twice the size of his head burst forth, thick, white fur cresting the edges and running down to his crotch in a pristine, white, treasure trail. He let out a loud groan with the expansion of his arms. They lengthened and broadened, veins pumping new life into his biceps and forearms as he curled them around his mate.

"Fuck me you stud."

Brent complied, pushing his cock into Brad's ass.

Brad threw his head back, completely lost in ecstasy as he felt the hot, molten rod of his mate press deep into him like it was a key fitting into the perfect keyhole. Part of him - the human part - knew that he was still a virgin in some sense but Brody knew better. And he wanted to be Brody. The massive husky so lightly caged inside of him begged him for release.

But he kept it back.

Just a little longer.

Brent slid out for a moment... then slid back in, nice and slow. Brad's moan of pleasure was drawn out until the moment Brent hilted into him, making his throat expel a grunt and his cock spew some precum.

"Fuck Brody... You're so tight!"

Fur sprang from all over his body, covering the thick muscles and accentuating them as they lined the curves and valleys of his huge, hardened body.

Brad couldn't hold back for very much longer. Brody's need took over and he was willingly pushing back on Brent's cock as his boyfriend pounded him hard. Loud grunts escaped him, his whole body rocked with the bliss of sex. Every inch of him felt molten hot. Every time Brent pulled out, that heat would cool for the briefest of seconds, solidifying the masses of muscles around him before he'd push back in and the heat would reignite, pumping more and more muscle into him.

"Brody... Oh fuck... Brody!" Brent cried.

Brad's lips pulled back in an expression caught between pain and pleasure as his whole face pushed forward. His teeth took on a distinct carnivorous appearance. The tip of his nose blackened and hardened, following the path of his face as it stretched forward. Fur rolled all over his face as his ears slid up to the top of his head, growing into large, triangular discs that swivelled back.

"Brody! Brody! Brody!"

Brad threw back his head letting out a blissful cry...

... as Brody...

Brody took over.

Lesson Eight: If you have Questions, Ask

Brent watched his boyfriend lapse into near unconsciousness beneath him.

His whole body felt sore for some reason but then again, he just did have some of the most amazing sex in the world. He leaned down and kissed his boyfriend's nose lightly and Brody's gentle, brown eyes just sprang open, glimmering beautifully like crystals.

"Duuude..." Brody groaned softly. "Fuck... What is up with your dick, man? I can't move..."

Brent chuckled and tensed his cock a little, spraying a little more cum inside his boyfriend and making said boyfriend arch his back in utter pleasure. "It's called a knot, hun. You'll get one soon."

Brody gave him the typical puppy-dog pout and clutched his semi-human prick. While it was bright pink and fully out of its sheath, it still had the distinct mushroom head humans were renown for. "But I want one now. Fuck me again, man. Fuck, I'm ready!"

Chuckling at his boyfriend's enthusiasm, he leaned down and kissed Brody lovingly. "Soon, hun. Soon. But you got to be patient." He winked slyly. "I've got plans for tomorrow."

Brody flopped onto the bench in exasperation. "Awww... But I don't want to wait!" Then he flicked his ears towards Brent, a curious look on his face. "Wait what's on tomorrow?"

Brent laughed and nibbled on his boyfriend's shoulder. Brody's huge, muscular paws curled around his shoulders, pressing him against that massive chest. The husky was bigger than he was and unlike his own reddish-brown fur, Brody's was black and white. He was still well-proportioned but unlike Brent, Brody had what it took to go pro. Not in a sport like football or tennis.

No.

Brody was going to be a professional bodybuilder.

They both knew that.

It was their plan.

Brent would take up biochemistry and go to college, maybe get a Ph.D while Brody would become a personal trainer, work out and compete professionally.

Oh yeah, they'd get married of course.

"You should know," Brent answered, licking his mate's cheek lightly. "It's only the biggest event in our year apart from graduation and the football finals."

Brody's eyes flashed with recognition. "Oh! The prom!"

Brent sniggered. "Yeah, the prom you big lug. Coach and Jessie has big plans for it. It'll be a blast." He straightened and pressed his nose against his boyfriend. "So... Will you go with me?"

The bigger husky just grinned. "I'd love to."

Lesson Nine: Celebrate Every Victory

Brad was still barely Brad... He was having a hard time defining himself between Brad Delacroix and Brody but he really didn't care that much. Alright, so he let 'fuck' slip into his conversations every now and then without any reason. So what? He was going to be Brody soon. He wanted to be Brody.

That was an established fact.

More than anything, though, he wanted to be with Brent.

And being with Brent had the advantage of becoming Brody.

What more could he ask for?

The next day until the prom was torture as he wanted nothing more than to rush to the school, throw himself at Coach Steele's cock and transform himself into Brody. Would be one hell of a surprise for Brent but he promised his boyfriend he'd wait until the prom to fully enter the world as Brody.

Brent was such a tease.

But that's why he loved him.

When the time finally came, he stepped out of his father's car. Walter Delacroix was still a little shaken up at Bart's sudden disappearance and while he put on a brave face, he was still deeply worried.

"Did you want to come in, dad?" Brad asked, knowing full well a bit of 'canine fun' was just what his father needed.

"It's okay..." Walter answered, choking slightly. "You go on ahead. I'll... I'll pick you up."

That was code for 'I'm going to sit here in the car and sulk a while.'

Brody... no, Brad... wondered how his father would react to his son suddenly coming back as a huge, muscular husky.

Deciding that was a question for later, Brad bid his father goodbye - and he meant goodbye - and strode into the auditorium. He stepped through the doors as Bradley Delacroix... and who he came out as...

Well...

He couldn't say.

Was it as Brody?

Was it as Brent Denton's boyfriend?

Or was it another member of the Steele Clan?

Whatever the case, he didn't care because there was no other place he wanted to be than at the prom.

He spotted Brent looking devilishly handsome in a teal tuxedo standing next to the refreshments. Brad, in his own plain grey tux swaggered over and caught his boyfriend in a surprise hug. Brent laughed and turned to his mate with a grin.

"What? Not afraid any of the homophobes around here will lynch you?"

"After tonight, I don't think they'll be in any position to fucking lynch anyone."

"'Fucking' is right. The show is about to start." Brent pointed at the stage. "Check it out."

The band - the school's assortment of student 'rockers' - jumped on stage. They thanked the principal, thanked Coach Steel and Jessie for all their hard work in organising the event and then thanked the audience for coming. Then they began their song.

Brad glanced around the auditorium, marvelling at the distinct lack of females. Hell, there wasn't a girl in sight.

That just made him grin.

"So will the music change them?" he asked. "The punch?"

"Watch," Brent answered.

A minute into the song, as everyone began dancing, a smoke machine kicked in. Whoever was controlling it wasn't very good either. Within minutes, the entire auditorium was covered in a fine, white mist...

... that smelled oddly like...

Brad grinned. "That's fucking genius!" he exclaimed, already feeling his pants tightening.

Brent sniggered and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. "Hold it in a little longer. I want you to watch this."

The song reached its climax and there was no denying the changes that was occurring to the band. The cock of the lead singer ripped right out of his jeans and he seized it in triumph as he let out the last, belting note of the song. He threw his head back in a triumphant howl as his features elongated into a distinct canines muzzle. His cum exploded out of his 14 inch cock, shooting outwards in a broad arc that splattered several shocked students.

The drummer slammed his drumsticks against his set, snapping them in two. He shot to his feet and clutched his head in his two hands, doubling over in pain. A huge rip echoed across the auditorium. His back exploded out from his jacket, unleashing a thick matt of black fur. Two, triangular ears popped out between his fingers and he straightened, turning the attention of his paws straight to his cock which he flopped proudly over the set, roaring in triumph with one arm flexed and the other clutching his spraying cock.

The two guitarists threw aside their instruments and collided with one another. They rolled on the stage, pieces of clothing flying in all directions as their bodies exploded out of their human shapes, tails wagging joyously and muscles rippling into new shapes.

All over the auditorium, students turned towards one another, stared at each other's cocks and then dove at each other's lips. Expensive tuxedos fell apart as polished shoes were torn to shreds. Huge clawed feet tore right through socks and leather. Cum flew around like confetti accompanied by blissful, lust-crazed howls, horny barks and the extensive use of 'fuck'.

Those students who weren't that far gone staggered backwards in horror until they slammed into the chest of a fully transformed peer. Said peer would spin around and shove a source of the incredible, manly scent that was quickly replacing oxygen in the auditorium straight into the student's face. From there, it was down hill... and up flagpole.

A few students actually tried to scramble for the exits but the teachers would suddenly be there, partway through their own transformation.

It was all over.

And it was just beginning.

"Fuck..." Brad growled, his own cock ripping out of his pants. The resilient tuxedo somehow still clung to his thighs, however. "This is the best fucking prom ever!"

"I know right?" Brent chuckled. "Even better than St. Aloysius."

Brad glanced at his boyfriend with a lewd grin as the collar of his shirt began tightening around his thickened neck. He absently flexed his left bicep, watching the bulge of flesh rip right through his jacket and the underlying shirt.

"You went to St. Aloysius?"

Brent rolled his eyes and ripped off his belt. Brad growled as his height outmatched his mate's and he kicked off his shoes. He gripped Brent's waist, spun him around and pressed him down against the refreshments table. Brent swept aside the untouched food aside as he lifted his cute, curled, fluffy tail.

Brad... No... Brody, yeah... Brody pulled out his thick 14 inch cock and pressed the mushroom head slowly through the tight, pink ring that was offered to him. The warmth of his boyfriend's flesh against his cock sent shivers throughout his entire body. A deep, rumbling growl rolled from his throat as his chest expanded, huge pecs ripping his tuxedo in two, two, permanently erect nipples pushing out between the thick, white fur on his chest.

He pushed a little deeper into Brent...

4 inches...

His thighs burst from his pants, leaving them in shreds and freeing his huge, tennis-ball sized testicles to hang out and churn with cum.

6 inches...

"Fuck, Brent..." he groaned, his tail flailing madly behind him. He began thrusting in and out of his boyfriend, every thrust bringing him closer and closer to his mate and closer to becoming completely Brody.

8 inches...

His face twisted into its new, perfect shape... One that had teased him for the past week but he knew he was always meant to be.

9 inches...

His shoulders broadened, straining against the remnants of his tuxedo. He took a break from banging his boyfriend and discarded the pieces, tossing them aside.

10...

He growled as his balls slapped his boyfriend's.

11...

"Fuck... Fuck Brody..."

12...

"Brody... I fucking love you, man!"

13...

Brody could barely control himself. His knot pressed up against his boyfriend's ass. "I... I..."

14!

He went for one last push -

"FUUUUCK!"

Brody arched his back and let out an ear-splitting howl. His cock exploded into Brent, spewing gallons upon gallons of cum straight into Brent's bowels. With every blast, he felt the mushroom head of his cock push deeper and deeper into his mate, tampering into a distinct canine point. Even without looking, he knew he had the biggest fucking dick in the whole school.

16 inches.

It was a record for all the Steeles.

And he fucking loved it.

And... and...

His sixth orgasms sent blasts of cum spewing out of Brent's ass.

Exhaustion weakened his huge, bodybuilder's thighs and he collapsed on top of Brent, drinking in his mate's scent.

"I love you, Brent..."

His husky turned to face him, drawing him into a loving kiss for one second.

"And I love you too, bro."

Brody took a moment to process those words... then smiled.

"Damn..." he answered. "I can't wait to get dad into this."