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SWIM MEET

Copyright 2007 by its author, Hunterwolf.

The midday sun beat down upon the furs gathered around the olympic sized swimming pool at Mosshall High, each of whom secretly harboured wistful thoughts of plunging into the sparkling blue water to escape the sun's wrathful gaze.

The hubbub of sound rose and fell like waves, an ironic paradox to the unruffled surface of the water in the pool. The anticipation and excitement was infectious, and several groups of furs already had their banners and posters waving proudly.

Generally the students (and staff) of Mosshall High viewed and interacted with each other without much difference, exceptions given obviously for the niche cultures that come part and parcel of every school, and their interactions with each other. Jocks versus geeks, loners versus everyone else, the cool versus the uncool, and so forth. When it came to Inter House sports, Mosshall High found itself split into three factions, each fervently supporting their particular House. But while rivalry was at its peak, and apart from some harmless pranks, there was no hostility on any front.

At the start of term, each student was placed in a particular House, these Houses named after various pillars of the community. Danson, Coalridge and Paton were each graduates of Mosshall High, who had gone on to achieve great things in their respective fields of interest, taking of that success and giving back to the community that had reared them.

On this sweltering summer Friday the Inter House challenges would come to a close, the final event being the Mosshall High Swim Meet. The noise genereted by the throng of students outside reached into the locker rooms, where the air was filled with its own electricity. Hopes, anxieties and nerves mingled and coalesced into something which was almost palpable.

A timber wolf walked casually into the locker room, shoulders bobbing in time to the music he listened to through his Mp3 player. He paid little attention to the furs already there...or so it would seem to the casual observer. For behind the shaded eyes he watched furtively, secretly, using the relative safety of the dark tinted lenses to run his eyes admiringly over the furs present. Most had already changed out of their swimsuits, a navy blue speedo with a trio of red stripes running at an angle from the left hip to the centre of the crotch, but some were still pulling their speedo's off, and it was on these that the wolf cast his eager gaze.

"Roan! You'd better hurry up and change if ya wanna compete!" a lynx called out to the newcomer.

The wolf nodded absently and made his way over to a clear bench, calling back over his shoulder nonchalantly:"I've got time, Alex."

"Don't worry, Alex," a lithely built cougar snapped, casting an amused glance Roan's way. "Mr Cool always ends up the last to leave the locker room and the first to to reach the finish line." The last was said with a hint of sarcasm.

The wolf flipped the cougar the finger over his shoulder and dumped his togbag on the bench, casually switching off the Mp3 player and removing the earphones. Several snickers and chuckles accompanied the gesture.

Roan was one of the loner crowd, keeping to himself and aquitting himself well in every endeavour he undertook. His grades, while not remarkable, were above decent, and his behaviour endeared him to the staff of Mosshall. Most of the students recognised him, but very few knew him well, if at all. And that seclusion suited the 16 year old wolf just fine.

Though his back was to the other students, thanks to a couple of built in mirrors on the sides of his sunglasses, Roan could still admire the view. Firm butts, washboard abs and not to mention the ripe fruits each male carried nestled between his legs got the wolf's blood pounding. His admiration and desire for other male's bodies was another reason the young wolf enjoyed his loner status. That way it was unlikely anyone would stumble upon his secret, the one thing he guarded closely, above all others. His love for males and the equipment they sported!

Joining the swimming team had delivered its set of problems to the wolf, but he had quickly found ways around that. He did not wish a repeat of his tryouts. Clad in speedo's and surrounded by lithe, hunky males likewise clad left little to the imagination, the bulges in the front tempting his fantasies, the butt hugging rears begging for a pinch or a carress. For a wolf just stumbling into his sexuality, these forbidden fruits mere inches away stirred in him primal longings that he had found difficult to control. The resulting hardon pressing against the speedo he wore was fortunately not noticed, thanks in part to his crouching on the starting block.

The tryout was over swiftly, Roan focussing his energies not on his throbbing crotch but on his arms and legs and breathing, the extra energy aiding him in his completing the laps first, securing himself a place on the swim team. Removing himself from the pool afterwards, though, had proven a bit more difficult, and had required careful timing in his dash from the pool to his towel, with emphasis on doing so quickly and ensuring the dash was not so frantic that it would draw attention to him.

The cougar was right about one thing, though. And it wasn't that he was always first at the finish line. True, his skill in swimming was impressive, and he won more often than not, but he was no olympian swimmer. No, the truth in the feline's words was that the wolf was indeed the last one out of the locker rooms, something that had become so ingrained in the wolf that it had become ritualistic. On the occassions he could not complete this rite, he found himself incomplete, unable to focus on the race as he should.

The assembled male nakedness, where nothing was left to the imagination, save perhaps for how a particular male would look engorged and erect, gave Roan a sinful pleasure, a feast for the mind. Then, once the last fur had left, Roan had the privacy he needed to tend to his arousal, sitting in a toilet cubicle or, feeling daring, laid out on his back on a bench or leaning against the shower wall, tending to his own pride and joy, the slick, quivering meat sliding through his paws and the sudden, exultant rush of release, leaving the body satisfied, and allowing the soul its own pleasure, that of the upcoming race and the desire to perform, to win!

The last race was the one Roan excelled at. Freestyle, butterfly, backstroke and breaststroke, one lap of each. Up for grabs, the coveted House Trophy. The race could mean the difference between victory and defeat for each of the Houses, for they were all practically tied for points. Were Roan to win, it would undoubtably mean the House Trophy for Paton House, a victory he was happy to allow the House Captain to accept. The knowledge was enough that he had been a pivotal instrument in securing the Trophy, but at the end of the day it was teamwork, for all competitors in the games played to date had given to their respective Houses' position. There would be cheers and slaps on the back, but Roan was, after all, a loner, and that branding still meant something, despite the House comraderie.

There were a number of furs who would have loved to see the wolf step out of his self imposed solitude, but they respected his wishes and didn't force the issue. As for the rest of the school, today he would either be a hero or he wouldn't, and regardless of the outcome, in a day or so he would lose his status and become the loner once again. He was at ease with that, and so, it seemed, was the rest of the student body.

His attitude, ironically, granted him more attention than it should have. Respect, sometimes grudgingly given, but respect nontheless. During the House games he gave fully of himself, dedicated himself to winning, to scoring the most points for his House. He was a team player, and though he brought in the points, he did not hold all the glory for himself. He supported his team mates, gave credit where it was due and accepted his losses with grace and dignity. And when he scored big, when, for a few hours, he became the hero of the hour, he did not flaunt it. He remained faithful to who and what he was. He did not don the Jock's bravado or the Cool guy's self importance. He punched the air and cheered and smiled and waved and congratulated everyone else, and then he became himself again.

Perhaps his steady nature made the other students secure. For in him they saw exactly what was laid out, a friendly fur who held himself above no-one else. Still waters ran deep, so it was said, and beneath every calm veneer could lie a seething mass of emotion and shadowed halls. Would the students, and the staff, for that matter, view him differently were his sexual preferences to be made public? The thought haunted him, ate at him, and so he kept it buried, allowed only himself to revel in his desires, in his forbidden acknowledgment of who and what he was.

Who else out there hid such dangerous secrets? In all those faces and facades and posturing, what lay beneath? Was that outward display to the world all there really was? Possibly, but Roan thought otherwise. Many of his fellow furs held secrets close, probably not as damning as his, but secrets nontheless, secrets they thought harmful enough not to share. Harmful, not to others, but to themselves.

Roan chuckled. Everyfur out there looked at him as somefur who did not make of himself more than there was, but in reality it was a facade, an illusion to hide what lay within. Was that hypocrisy? Or simply the height of irony? The wolf shrugged and opened his togbag, dropping his Mp3 player inside and pulling out his speedo and towel.

"Well lookit!" the voice, harsh, unfriendly. "Last one out yet again!"

Roan turned around and sighed, allowing none of what he felt to display on his features. The wolf, tiger and fox who had entered the locker room stood there, arms crossed, staring at him. Football jocks...well, the wolf and tiger were. The fox hung around with them, but wasn't on the team. A swift glance around the room proved the trio right. At some stage the last of the furs had left, leaving Roan to contemplate alone.

"Shouldn't you be out chasing tyres or something?" Roan quipped, addressing the wolf standing in the middle of the trio.

"Shouldn't you be jerking off while sniffing other furs' jockstraps?" the fox shot back, his eyes narrowing.

"You want a front row seat I take it?" Roan snapped back.

The fox jumped forward, growling, fists clenched, but a heavy paw fell on his shoulder as the wolf halted him. The fox glanced at the wolf beside him, then shot a venemous look at Roan. "Smart ass!"

Roan sniggered and turned around, leaning forward and thrusting his ass out at the trio. "So you do like my ass!" he crooned, then his voice became acidic:"How sweet,"

The rush of footpaws alerted him and he spun around, ready to defend himself, but the tiger was faster, and as he turned stars exploded behind his eyes as he face met unyielding fist. Roan staggered back and tripped over the bench, yelping in pain as his head and shoulders struck the floor, his legs draped over the bench.

"Watch your mouth, filthy little faggot!' The tiger snarled.

A sharp retort formed on Roan's lips but died as the flames in the tiger's eyes flared up. Deciding discretion to be the better part of valour, Roan wisely bit back his reply. His head already hurt; he didn't need more pain, something the tiger would gleefully administer given half a chance.

"Pretty brave words for a cock sucking little queer," the wolf said, coming to stand alongside his buddy and smiling sadistically down at Roan.

"You'll have a hard time proving anything, Kole," Roan replied, meeting the football wolf's gaze unflinchingly.

"I think our standing in the student community is a tad higher than yours, despite your brief lived fame," Kole smiled.

"Still, your situation is more tenuous, and a more believable scenario than mine," Roan grinned. "Best be cautious, before your precious reputation is ruined."

The tiger reached down and hefted the wolf upright, spears of pain lancing their way from the wolf's shoulders at the abrupt tiger-handling. The feline seemed ready to lay into Roan some more when Kole's paw rested on the tiger's shoulder:"Easy, Kirk. Let's hear the little runt out. At the very least it'll make for an interesting fairy tale!"

Wolf, tiger and fox broke out into laughter. Roan merely grimaced.

"What I don't get, and I'm sure many other furs don't either, is what a twinky little fox is doing with a couple of hunky football players? I mean, you guys run around in your private pack, admitting only either big breasted chicks or other footballers. So a more plausible story than my oh so obvious homosexuality is that Foxy there wanted so badly to be included in all that testosterone that he became your fuck fox in exchange. I walk in on the three of you humping it out and get beaten up as a warning not to reveal what I've seen!"

Roan grinned at the three furs and would have doubled over in pain had the tiger not been holding him up. The fox, fury etched deeply on his features had delivered a viscious kick to his stomach and followed it up with a sharp jab to the kidneys. "I AIN"T NO FAGGOT!" the fox snarled loudly, and before either Kole or Kirk could intercede, rammed his fist into the wolf's chin, snapping his head backwards.

Roan felt himself fall and hit the bench then roll off onto the floor, where he lay gasping, eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted in pain. He heard Kole talking, saying:"Easy, Tyris. Don't hog him all for yourself! Kirk and I would like to get a paw in edgeways, ya know!"

"That'll have to wait."

The voice was new, and laden with threat. Roan wanted to get a look at the newcomer, but any movement caused him pain, and he whimpered despite his resolve not to show weakness.

"This doesn't concern you," Kirk snarled.

"Yeah!" Tyris lamely added, starting to come off his adrenalin rush.

"I've been told," the newcomer stated, voice like steel, cold, hard, "that my greatest weakness is butting in where I'm not wanted. I like to think of it as a character quirk, myself."

"That kinda quirk is gonna get you in hot water, bub," Kole growled.

"You think you can take me on? Even with three to one odds?"

Silence.

"Beat it," the newcomer stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "Or I'll beat you!"

There was some angry, sullen mumbling from the trio, but they left, their footfalls trailing away. Once in the corridor outside they began talking loudly, arrogant and empty words aimed at bolstering their deflated pride. Their voices faded away, and silence descended on the locker room, broken only by the haggard breathing of a wolf curled up on the cold floor.

Roan felt a presence near him, the scent of sweat, not the harsh stench of it, but rather the subtle aroma that tantalises, entrances, hints at something unknown yet desired. Redolent of masculine energy. A gentle hand of his shoulder, and a voice, no longer steel and ice, but velvet and warmth. "Are you ok?"

"Um...yeah, I think so. My spleen is as yet undamaged, I think." Roan chuckled despite himself, and grimaced as it incited fresh waves of agony.

"The stalwart loner to the end, I see. It doens't hurt to show your frail side, ya know?"

"Well then call those idiots back. I'm sure they'll be appreciative of my frail side", Roan snapped, lifting himself off the floor and trying to ignore the sharp pains exploding in his body. To make matters worse, a headache was beginning to manifest itself behind his eyes.

Roan managed to get to his feet and leaned heavily against the row of lockers behind him. He brought a paw to his muzzle and winced. Blood marred his fingertips. Raising his head he looked at his rescuer, and a mixture of guilt and fear played across his mind. He hoped that neither of those emotions were visible to the black stallion standing before him, togbag over slung over one shoulder. The horse was regarding him with obvious concern, his eyes gentle, caring.

"You gonna be able to compete?"

"Uh...yeah...yeah...I think so. Nothing broken. Just bruised," Roan replied. "Thanks," he added belatedly, the word sounding lame to his ears.

"No problem, Roan."

Roan studied the stallion before him, pretending to be in the process of recalling something. In truth, he was, for the umpteenth time, deciding that the equine before him had the most perfect body, in both build and contours. "You're Gan, right?"

"Yup," the horse replied, dropping his togbag next to the wolf's. "Danson House's champion for the swim meet."

Roan chuckled. "My saviour is my nemesis, eh?"

Gan laughed loudly, the sound music to the wolf's ears. "Only on the battlefield, wuff. And that battlefield is outside, and very, very wet! Until then, we're still fellow students." The horse smiled, a comraderly smile that bolstered the wolf's spirits, made him feel safe.

Roan picked up his speedo and towel and laid them on the bench. "Why don't you get changed so long. I'll just sit here a bit and gather myself. Clean myself up a bit too. I'll meet you at the pool."

Gan shook his head. "I don't think so. The three stooges might come back after I've left. Safety in numbers, so they say."

Roan's heart skipped a beat. He needed the horse gone, so he could change and prepare himself in peace. With the horse right there, naked, any arousal might be noticed. Roan's mind raced as he tried to figure something out that would get the horse away, if only for a few minutes.

A metallic clunk snapped the wolf from his thoughts and he glanced over at the sound and suddenly wishing he hadn't. Gan had started getting changed. Already his shirt was on the bench, his jeans as well. The loud noise was the belt buckle hitting the bench. Now the stallion stood, wearing nothing but a white jockstrap, his fingers hooked into the elastic, preparing to shed those as well! Roan felt himself harden, and he swore mentally.

Gan gave the wolf a quizical glance. "You should get changed."

"Uh...yeah," Roan stammered, his eyes fixed on the stallion's crotch, on the outline framed so tantalisingly behind the white material.

The stallion slowly pulled down his briefs, allowing the wolf a clear view of the majesty that, until now, had lain hidden. To say the stallion was well hung would have been an understatement. His cock dangled like a long, thick sausage, framed from behind by a pair of the most perfectly rounded, smooth balls ever created. Masculinity redefined, that was what the stallion was. Roan could only imagine what the stallion must look like when engorged and in heat!

It was with great effort that Roan managed to tear his eyes away from the site, but though he didn't look directly at the stallion's crotch, he kept casting surreptitious glances that way as he fumbled around in his togbag, pretending to be looking for something. His own cock was hard, and every movement stimulated him further. This was not going well! In any other situation Roan would have been more than happy to be as hard and eager as he was right now. But the problem lay in how to be rid of his erection without anyone noticing!

"So what was that little altercation about?" Gan asked, pulling his speedo on, the delightful treasure once again vanishing behind a thin veneer of cloth. So close, yet so far.

"Oh...um...heh...you know how jocks can be," Roan forced a chuckle, glad that temptation had been removed. Though the damage had already been dealt.

"Sounded like it was a bit more than jocks being playful, Roan," Gan said, sitting down and regarding the wolf critically.

Roan stared at his togbag, struggling to find words.

"Think of it as my reward," Gan said, smiling softly. "What happened?"

Roan sighed and sat down, staring at the floor, unable to meet the stallion's gaze. "They've got this thing about me being...gay." The last word was uttered almost under his breath.

"Did you say "gay"?"

Roan nodded. "For some reason they think I am, so they came in here to rag on me. I wasn't feeling up to playing along so I opened my big mouth and ended up paying for my cockyness."

Roan idly picked up his speedo and started toying with it. So focused was his mind on the speedo that he jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder, and Gan's voice came from behind him:"You should get changed. It's almost time for the race."

"Yeah, I know," Roan sighed again, still feeling his erection , and the stallion's closeness wasn't helping matters at all. Just knowing that the horse's crotch was mere inches away, almost touching his back, was driving him wild. "Give me a couple minutes, will ya?"

"Sure, Roan. No problem. After all, you've probably should take care of that hardon!"

Roan started mentally, hoping to hell it hadn't manifested physically as well. He came to a decision amost instantly, out of pure reflex and inherrent defence and leapt to his feet, spinning around, his eyes flashing angrily. "What the fuck are you suggesting?"

Gan, his face deadpan, simple met the wolf's fierce gaze with one unflinching and seemingly unconcerned. "Do you know how long you were staring at my cock?"

Roan's eyes widened in shock, and he growled:"What the fuck? I - am - not - gay!"

"Yes, you are."

Roan staggered back, not because of the words, or even that they came from the stallion he had lusted after since he'd first laid eyes on him, but rather from the conviction underlying those words. He knows! Oh fuck, he knows! And somewhere, deep inside, something snapped, and from the dusty corners of his mind where they had been cast into shadow, the fears arose. His heart began pumping faster and he could feel the blood coursing just beneath his skin.

The wolf shook his head and snarled, stepping forward, raising a clenched fist. "Prove it, pal!"

Gan shrugged and held up a closed fist, opening it slowly, his eyes on the wolf's. And as the fingers uncurled and what lay hidden was revealed, Roan's world began to collapse in on itself. For sitting in the palm of the stallion's hand was the proof. Cruelly condemning him with its silence. He knew his features were displaying his shock, his guilt, but he couldn't fight it. All he could do was stare in shock and despair at the flash disk lying in Gan's hand. His flash disk!

NO! It couldn't be his! His memory stick was in the side pocket of his togbag. With a speed born of desperation, he ripped open the side pocket and rifled through the contents, his meagre hope vanishing like fog before the sun. It wasn't there! Fearfully he raised his head, staring at the flash disk, then at the stallion's face, finding the horse's countenance expressionless.

"What...what do you want?" His throat and mouth were dry, and he had to swallow several times to be rid of the discomfort.

"Imagine my surprise to find myself on that flash drive. Naked; in the shower, here, in this very locker room. In various stages on undress. Taking a leak. How the hell did you take these pics without me noticing? Or anyone else noticing, for that matter?"

Roan was stumped. He wanted to answer, to explain, to lie, but nothing was forthcoming.

"That...that...is mine. You had no right to...to look at the contents," Roan stammered.

"No right? And what gave you the right to take these pictures of me? I had no idea who's disk this was! It was lying in the computer studies room. Unattended. I thought I could find out who it belonged to by checking the contents. And I did. Your biology project, with your name. And of course, so much more!" Gan dropped the flash disk into the wolf's togbag.

Roan stared at the horse in dismay. "What do you want?"

"Very simply, to win the swim meet."

Roan flinched, as if struck, and looked away, grim realisation setting in. "You...you want me to throw the race. To let you win." His voice was soft, almost inaudible.

And suddenly Gan was directly in front of him, cupping his chin in his hand and lifting his head to stare into his eyes. There was something there, a flicker of something, but Roan was too distressed to recognise it. "If you throw the race, if you let me win, Roan, I will make sure the entire school knows of your secret!" A hint of anger tinged his voice.

Roan's eyes snapped wide. "What?"

"You will compete, wolf. You will swim and you will endeavour to win. I will not take part in something that's rigged, and if you take that away from me I will hand deliver you to those jocks, with the evidence!" Gan's voice became flint, the words spat out. "No, Roan. You will swim to win. And if you win, if you win, because I intend to beat you, you will have your prize."

Gan spun, snatching up his towel, and headed for doors. "Get changed. The race will start soon. And forfeiting the race will yield the same results as though you'd thrown it."

Roan stared after the horse, uncomprehending. He'd been found out, and the evidence had been given back to him. The stallion could easily have forced him to throw the race, but hadn't. And what prize? What the hell was going on?

"Hey!" Roan called out. "What...what prize? Are you going to tell anyone?"

Gan continued walking, pausing at the doors to peer out into the corridor. Then the stallion turned around and grinned. "I intend to win, Roan. And if I win, I'm going to fuck you. If you win, well, if you win, then you get to fuck me!" And that said, the horse turned the corner and was gone, leaving a very confused and stunned wolf alone, his hardon, which had dwindled during the confrontation, starting to re-awaken as the stallion's words sunk in. "AND NO, I'M NOT GOING TO TELL ANYONE!" Gan shouted back down the corridor.

**To Be Continued!!!

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