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The flask on the Bunsen bubbled with a quiet gurgle. The color of the solution inside was mostly clear, though there was a slight blue-ish tint to it, reflecting the color of the flame beneath of it. Behind this particular lab station was a young fire-type student--a Quilava to be precise. He picked up a small piece of paper, some powdered acid piled into a small mound atop it, and poured it into the flask, watching it dissolve.

That solution's color turned to a light pink now, and it stopped bubbling for the moment, some small vapors of heat still rising from it. He sighed out--the chemistry lab was excruciatingly boring. Looking around the Quilava watched the other students dutifully at their work. What tools, he thought, yawning to himself, fanning his hand in front of his face.

His lab-coat rustled over his uniform, the white cloth having a few stains upon it from spilt chemicals. It didn't fit very well, it was borrowed from the school's supply like all the other chemistry tools. The Quilava swung his feet back and forth from his seat upon that lab-stool, sighing out as he waited for his solution to once again come to a boil.

Looking around, the Quilava located the instructor for the class, a stern Zoroark, who was over helping a Swoobat boy with setting up his equipment. Happy with the distance from the professor, the fire-weasel pulled the sparker down towards his lap, clicking it a few times. It made a pretty cascade of fire-sparks onto his lap with each squeeze, the tool used for lighting the Bunsen burner. That Quilava was a bit of a fire-bug, after all. He couldn't help but be attracted to things like lighters and matches, though thankfully he hadn't burned any buildings or trash-cans.

Another click of that sparker, its sparks cascading onto the Quilava's covered lap. He looked up once again, both for the professor and at his flask, which was now giving a small bubbling from the base. The lab manual stated that he should turn the heat down once it started boiling. And so he did, turning that dial backwards and stemming the flow of gas. The weasel watched disappointedly as the flame from the burner turned orange, lowering down to just a centimeter or so in height, flickering and licking at the base of the flask. Inside, the color had changed to a darker pink coloration.

Sure, the reaction was interesting for a rudimentary chemistry course. They had to keep it so, for students of their age. Even so, that Quilava squirmed in his seat, not content to stay still and baby-sit his flask for the full length of his class-period. A dark-furred hand placed itself on the fire-type's shoulder, fingers tipped with red nails.

"Mm, looking well, Quinley. I'm surprised you've managed to sit still long enough to get this far," the teacher. The Quilava nervously slipped that fire-starter in his paw towards his lap, squeezing his thighs around and over it, hiding it from view. He accepted that praise however, with just a bit of apprehension--the Zoroark was rather rude in it, after all, and he felt a bit uncomfortable with the paw on his shoulder.

"Thanks Mister Zachery," the fire-type muttered in reply, looking down on the fire-resistant desk and his lab-papers upon it. The hand on his shoulder gave a firm pat.

"Keep it up, then. Don't screw around--there's only ten minutes left in class." With this, the chemistry teacher wandered off to check on a gaggle of other students, whose stations seemed to be producing a quite a bit of white smoke.

"Idiot," muttered Quinley under his breath, clicking the flint-steel sparker a few more times. Against the white cloth of his lab-coat those bright yellow-orange sparks fizzled, leaving a small burned mark upon it. He checked the instruction packet once again, "remove from burner after 5 minutes of low heat". Had it been five minutes even? Whatever, class was almost over, and it should be fine to remove it now. Putting on a heat-resistant glove, he grasped hold of the flask, lifting it up and setting it down on a second stand.

The burner below flickered orange, its flame growing a bit now that the flask wasn't blocking it. It seemed brighter too, though the fire-weasel was too busy reading the next portion of the manual to watch its flickering, wavering form. Quinley read only the very first word of his instructions before feeling the ginger heat running up the sleeve of his lab-coat. His eyes flicked over to it and widened--he had caught fire!

Standing up, and knocking backwards his stool, the Quilava beat at his arm, trying to extinguish the engulfing flame. With that failing, the weasel yanked hard at the buttons holding together its front, popping them off as he stripped the lab-coat off of himself, tossing it on the floor and stomping on it a few times for good measure. At very least the fire didn't spread any further, though most of the class was looking at him now, instructor included. The Zoroark gave a loud sigh, bringing his hand up to pinch his nose.

"Quinley, stay after class," he grumbled. "Everyone else, keep going. There's still five minutes left in lab." The murmurs roaming about the lab died down, and soon the class was back to work, hoping to finish before the bell excused them. The Quilava reclaimed his lab-coat from the floor, examining the sleeve. There was a definite blackened mark upon it, and as the weasel touched it with his hand a hole appeared as it turned to ash in the blackest portions.

Uck. No good--they'd have to replace it for sure. Not that it wasn't already in need of replacement; the coat had more than a few "spills" on it that probably made it dangerous around certain chemicals, too, though there was never much of a push for the replacement of coats that were still intact. Folding the lab-coat up (sleeve towards the inside so it couldn't be seen), Quinley threw on a spare and worked to clean his station up. That Bunsen burner flickered with an orange-blue flame, and the fire-type gave a glare at it--he was in trouble because of the thing, after all.

Cutting the gas, the critter rested the back of his knuckles against that flask, testing its heat. It had cooled down to just a few degrees above room-temperature, and its once pink color had turned to a deep, dark amethyst purple. Some small crystals had formed at the very base of the flask as well, precipitating out of solution as its temperature dropped. The goal was to ice the solution even further, and to create even more of the colored acidic crystals, though with such short lab-periods only a few students had done so.

Pouring the flask out into the designated waste-bucket, Quinley rinsed and returned to his lab-station, removing the goggles around his eyes and blinking away the rings they had left upon his face. The weasel rubbed under his cheeks, trying to get the blood flowing back into them. Overhead a buzzer rang, and the rest of the class slowly began to file out, having either finished their lab or failed some step along the way.

There was a sweet, strange smell in the air that irritated the Quilava's nose. Probably a Bunsen not properly turned off. Seeing nothing better to do, the weasel wandered from station to station, twisting tight each valve, though the scent remained. It was starting to give him a head-ache. He had half a mind to ask the teacher what it was, though Mister Zachery was busy closing the lids and labelling those dump-buckets with their contents.

The weasel made his way towards the bank of windows on the wall, cracking one open. A warm summer breeze blew into the room, carrying with it the scent of flowers to displace that sickly sweet smell filling it. Quinley sneezed with the bit of pollen coming in with it, wiping his nose on his shoulder.

"Ahem." From behind the fire-type, the Zoroark cleared his throat. "C'mon. We need to replace your lab-coat," the chemistry instructor said, staring down at the shorter Quilava, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Unlike the borrowed lab-coats the rest of the students wore, the teacher had a fresh and pressed version, bleached bright white and stiff. Being the chemistry instructor, it made sense that he'd spend a bit of his own pay upon an executive laboratory coat.

Either way, the bright white fabric contrasted with his grey-black fur, and the darker portions of his pectoral-fluff peeked out of the wide "v" collar. His mane was pulled into its usual pony-tail, the spikes of it slicked down to keep it tidy. A single silver ring was attached to his ear, a sharp contrast to his jewelrylessness elsewhere.

"Are you almost done staring? You've got class after this, don't you? Hurry it up."

Quinley blinked a few times, shaking his head. His brain felt a bit foggy for whatever reason, like there was the beginning of a headache forming.

"Sorry sir," he muttered submissively, starting to follow the Zoroark as he left the laboratory class-room and entered the hall. Several kids loitered about, looking through their lockers and chatting idly with each other. The dark-type kept careful watch upon his query from the corner of his eye, making certain the fire-weasel wouldn't slink away. That Quilava made no moves to do such--perhaps he didn't even realize the chemistry instructor would be disciplining him for the destruction of school property, no matter how accidental it was.

As they wound down the hallways, students gradually began to file into their classes. Passing time was nearly over, and the next period would be beginning soon for them--the Quilava would be late, it seemed. The chemistry lab was a rather new addition to the boarding school, and as such was located away from the older lab and its closetful of supplies. Said closet was located near what had been repurposed as the sportier section of the boarding school, with a wrestling mat and sauna installed for athletes. It seemed as if the place had gone through quite a bit of remodeling in the recent years, just after the current principal took office.

Regardless, that supply closet for the chemistry lab was never moved, and so it was situated between a weight-lifting room and the aforementioned sauna; a small room just a small bit larger than a janitor's closet, behind a locked wooden door. With a twist of his key, Mister Zachery unlocked that room, and motioned towards the Quilava with his arm outstretched. The boy did nothing, at first. His eyes were a bit glazed over, and he wobbled on his heels. The walk had that normally-in-shape fire-weasel dizzy and lightheaded, and he fell upon his rump when the Zoroark turned around to see the issue.

"Uhh... can I go to the nurse, Mister Zachery...?" the Quilava asked, blinking a few times. "My head really hurts..." he mumbled, rubbing his sensitive nose. It was a bit wet, feeling slightly irritated from both the pollen and whatever fumes had been floating around the lab. In addition to that dizziness, the fire-weasel's vision was a bit blurred as well, seeing a white and grey form where the Zoroark stood, with slight flicks of red mixed in with that grey.

"You'll be fine," responded the chemistry teacher, grabbing Quinley on his shoulder and pulling him up. What a troublesome kid, he thought, ought to teach him some respect. "What size was your lab coat?" he questioned.

"It was..." the Quilava began slowly, blinking a bit. His hands seemed to have fallen asleep, though there was no reason for them to. Flexing his fingers, the fire-type mumbled something under his breath, before finally blinking enough to focus upon them. "Uhhh... a small," he managed to come up with. Why was it so hard to think?

Out of the corner of his eye, the student watched as the Zoroark turned, digging through the coat-rack to find that particular size. It was a popular one, no doubt--most of the students at the school were from small to medium sizes, and that left just a single spare small. It was a ratty thing, very well used. The cloth, which should have been white, had a distinctly yellow tint, aged, and was spackled by a smattering of (now neutralized) chemicals.

Its age had a definite smell, too, musty like mothballs. One might have even flown out from its pocket when the chemistry instructor gave it a shake, some flakes of a caked-on substance falling to the already dusty floor. He tossed it backwards towards the dizzy Quilava, who missed the catch, stumbling backwards again. This time he manages not to trip, though he backpedals slightly. That thrown coat lands behind him in a crumpled heap, and the fire-type turns to face it, bending forward to pick up.

The floor rushed towards him, that off-white, speckled tile seeming to leap up towards his face. With a loud thud, the ground hit him, and the weasel-'mon's vision grew dark. To him, only a moment passed between that darkness and opening his eyes, yet he was no longer in the hallway outside the supply closet. The room he was in was dimly lit, just a single light overhead gently humming away as it irradiated the pantry-sized area.

Secondly he noticed the heat. The hallway was cool and pleasant, perhaps even a bit chilly for a fire-type, but this new room was warmer. Much warmer, in fact. The Quilava brought a hand up under his neck, as if to hook it under his collar and fan his chest, only to find that he had no collar. No undershirt, either. Looking down, the critter realized that he was quite nude in this hot little room, starting to sweat some from both the heat and nervousness of his situation. At very least, a small white towel covered his lap, keeping it modest.

Quinley was still dizzy. His head throbbed, and eyesight waned. Hearing a click of a door from across the room, he turned his sight to see a fuzzy grey blob enter the room. A rush of a cool air entered with the door's openness, followed by an increase of heat as it was closed. Breathing in was difficult--the air was saturated with moisture. Sweat was starting to soak the fur on that Quilava's neck, and he exhaled as that grey-colored figure approached him. Through his bleary eyes, the critter managed to make out the sharp snout of his chemistry teacher.

"Mister... Zachery...?" he wondered aloud, blinking and trying to focus. The heat was most certainly helping any--in fact it refracted the dim light in the room, blurring it even further. Based on the coloration of that dark blob the weasel could assume that the Zoroark (if that even was him). A paw slipped over his mouth, covering it from speaking any more. How did I even get here, wondered the Quilava.

That answer was known only by the other member of that sauna, the very dark-type who took advantage of that student's moment of passed-out-ness. As that boy had hit the ground, thudding with a loud faint, the Zoroark had smirked. He was intending on "disciplining" the fire-type for ruining that lab-coat, but that timely collapsing definitely made his plans easier.

Picking up both Quilava and lab-coat, the dark-type returned to that supply closet, stripping down the young, unconscious student's body. He unclasped each button upon the weasel's uniform, sliding his free hand beneath that shirt and stroking the boy's chest and stomach. His belly-fur was soft, a bit thick as well. Combing his red fingernails downwards, the teacher tugged that shirt out from its tuck, stroking just above the fire-type's groin while his other hand undid that belt and button combination upon the critter's waist. Unzipping the front, he pulled those downwards, slipping Quinley's shoes off from his feet, then following up with pulling free those uniform pants.

"Mm..." the Zoroark rumbled at the base of his throat, his lips curving at their edges up into a perverse smile. The boy was wearing a white pair of briefs, and hid a chubby bulge behind it. Unable to resist any further, the dark-fox bent himself forward, pushing his pointed snout against that bump, sniffing deeply through his red-dotted nose. That boy was just budding as a male, and his specific scent pulled with it strongly of sweat and just a light hint of something spice. Austin licked his lips. Oh, the troublemaking student would be a lovely one, for sure. No sense in sharing him with the principal this time--he wanted that kid all to himself.

Pulling off Quinley's shirt and bundling them with his pants, the Zoroark stowed them away into a hidden little alcove within that supply closet, draping the lab coat over that student's almost-naked body. With the underwear-clothed boy covered, the fox left his closet, carrying the student just a door down to the sauna-room, cranking it up to maximum heat and stripping that lab coat off both himself and the still out-cold fire-type.

Placing the Quilava into that heating room, the Zoroark draped a white towel over the male's lap and left, going to strip himself down to his bareness. Pulling off his lab coat and the underclothes, the instructor stowed them away in a cubby, not bothering to even take a towel into the sauna. He tapped the thermostat, double-checking the heat. As hot as it could go. His and Quinley's body would be drenched in sweat, and the moisture of the sauna air would cling to each hair of their body.

Austin gained a somewhat silly smile, reaching a grey-furred hand down to his crotch, scratching beneath his balls. Oh, they were ready alright. Though unintentional, that Zoroark had a load that was a few weeks in the making. Grading student's papers, after all, took an unfortunate priority. Before entering, he poured a cup of ice-water to dump on the heater. No sense in a sauna without a bit of steam, after all.

The door opened with a click, and the Zoroark entered with a quiet pad of his bare feet. The floor was warm, made up of long planks of wood--wet in the steamy air. His quarry, on the far side of the sauna, seemed slouched over, just coming to. Perfect. The chemistry instructor doused that heating element within the sauna, a cascade of steam and the soft "ssss" of evaporation filling the small room. His nostrils were assaulted by that scentless vapor, the metal of his ear-ring gaining a foggy covering.

The Quilava said the teacher's name faintly, and he smiled, before pressing his hand over the boy's mouth. Pert lips met his palm. Oh, he'd have to do something with those. Had that critter been more prone to consent the Zoroark could and would spend hours of his day pressing his adult lips against the younger student's, tasting the plumpness and budding spice of them, that special flavoring as the boy gradually aged.

Austin slid his palm downward, turning it so his fingers slid across and brushed the Quilava's cheek. As it delved underneath that 'mon's chin, he placed his thumb against those lips, pressing inside semi-forcefully, though the dazed and confused fire-type put up little resistance. The other side of his lips were just as plump as the front, though as that thumb curved inwards the professor felt that light bit of saliva, and rubbed the tip of his thumb against the student's gums. Finally he entered further into that mouth, forming a fist underneath the boy's chin and pushing up slightly, making the victim lift his head as the Zoroark's thumb depressed his tongue.

The fox came to a seat next to the weasel, reaching over across himself to keep that hand situated nicely upon Quinley's warm, moist tongue. The arm closest to the fire-type lifted up and around, slinking behind the Quilava's neck, pulling into an uncomfortably close hug. Had the student's mind been clear he would have protested no doubt, but that double-dose of fainting-dizziness and fume-induced headache made him slow to think, slow to react, slow to protest. And how could he now, with his tongue pinned down by the Zoroark's thumb, his lips wrapped about said thumb's trunk, giving an instinctive swallow and suckle upon it as his drool filled up his cheeks.

He was relegated into an object, just a toy for the Zoroark to get his rocks off from touching and fondling his body. The adult pedophile, for that teacher truly was one as much as a few other persons in the boarding school, tugged off the towel over Quinley's lap, exposing his tight white briefs once more, this time the bulge even more pronounced with the critter's thighs touching each other. The fire-type exhaled out with a loud breath, almost shaking a little bit as mister Zachery played with his waistband.

"You're probably too loopy to understand but..." the queer adult began, his lips against the Quilava's ear, breath washing against the tip. The heat of the sauna seemed to pale in comparison with his exhales, that tip of his tongue flicking against the very edge of that ear. "...there's nothing quite like stripping off a young boy's underwear after feeling him up," finished he.

That hand slid around the waistband, one thumb slipped underneath of it, the other four fingers running across the elastic until they came to its front. He extended those bent digits, grasping forward and cupping that bulge before gently raking his fingertips and red nails back upwards, stroking gently, tracing the outline of that bulge in great detail.

It was almost more arousing for the Zoroark to close his eyes, creating a mental image of the boy's package before he'd even uncover it for the first time. His fondling continued, building up that mental image. It was brown in color, tannish, like the rest of that Quilava's stomach. He could feel how it was adjusted inside that under-clothing, the flaccid shaft of that length draped over a gentle, plush ballsack. It pointed right down between Quinley's thighs, the tip of it almost in line with them.

Austin's middle finger rubbed down that outlined shaft, mentally adding small details. A bump marking the glans; his digit dipped lower. Finally he came to the very tip of that modest sized boydick, rubbing the front. Uncut too, though having just enough of that stretchy foreskin to cover his tip and maintain a tight pursed ring right over that glanstip. Through the fabric of those undies, the dark-type gave a soft little pinch, tugging upon that shaft's overhang.

"Mmeh..." came a weak response, that about all the dizzy, confused, and all-around quarter-conscious Quilava could make. That fire-type shuddered, closing his unfocusing eyes as he was fondled through his underwear. Even if he couldn't voice his discomfort he felt, his body-language was unmistakable. There was a distinct shying away from the teacher, though unable to move much more than an inch with the adult's arm wrapped all the way around him, and his head was pinned by mister Zachery's other hand.

Shamefully the boy's body responded to that stimulus. From behind that cloth enclosure it began to stiffen, filling up with warm heat and fattening. The Zoroark added these details to his mental image, before opening his eyes. His lips hungered for the taste of the boy's neck, mouth drooling for the chance to flick a tongue across that soft bit of furred flesh between jaw and shoulder.

With that mouth-holding hand, the chemistry instructor tilted his prey's head, leaning his head downwards and brushing his lips against the anterior triangle of the Quilava's neck, his snout pointing the critter's spine, lips upon his slowly pulsing artery. The taste of sweat met his lips and tongue, that subtle flavor of boyhood that glistened upon his fur with slick, silky sheen. Austin's fingers curled about that critter's filling bulge, cupping the digits so that his fingertips held the boy's entire sack and thickening shaft in his hand, nailtips brushing against that puffy Quil-taint.

His teeth slid against the Quilava's furred flesh, lightly scratching with his canines as he nibbled upon that neck. The thumb hooked under that undie waistband started to pull it down. The frontal fabric was soaked through with sweat already; the steam of the sauna only increasing their moistness. That red nail of the Zoroark's thumb slowly traced Quinley's shaft, touching the tan member directly now as he exposed it. Bringing that waistband down lower, the chemistry teacher hooked it beneath that taut sack, leaving it there as he withdrew his hand from the student's mouth. The print of his thumb was saturated with the fire-type's saliva, leaving a small trail of spittle from plump lips to thumb-tip.

It snapped as he brought that hand down lower, bringing himself off of the boy's neck, exhaling hard on on Quinley's cheek, stealing a kiss from the dazed male. His lips pressed softly upon the weasel's pair, wet with drool and sweat, the humidity of that hot sauna air increasing that touch even further. With that barely open-mouthed kiss the Zoroark's fingers grasped gently at the Quilava's half-flaccid member, slipping between shaft and pouch, and pressed his wet thumb right against that frontal ring of bunched foreskin, sliding in both his nail and digit into it, stimulating that wet, covered glans.

A humiliated moan was fed into his mouth, not anything the fire-weasel was conscious of, just a simple instinctual response to the pleasure of that stimulation. Though that critter was just beginning to transition through puberty, his tip seemed to drip with more than just the moisture of sweat--a slick, thin line of fluid leaking from that gradually swelling tip.

Mister Zachery slid his tongue outwards, pushing against and between Quinley's lips before intruding upon them. He wiggled that taster into the Quilava's mouth, brushing against the boy's teeth and further, tasting the hardly-reactive fire-type's tongue intimately. Turning his head, the adult forcibly deepened the kiss, his lips coming to seal completely against the student's own, sharing heated breath. His thumb continued that slow circle around that sweaty cockhead, still hidden underneath that stretchy foreskin, creating a bulge wherever that digit was.

Suckling upon the Quilava's lips, the Zoroark pulled himself backwards with a soft pop. That suction had pulled Quinley's head a slight bit forward, and with its release it slumped backwards, the critter's face flushed from heat. Despite being a fire-type and supposedly more suited to high temperatures he was sweating and huffing intensely from the sauna's warmth, barely able to focus more than half a foot in front of him.

Austin pulled free his thumb from that foreskin, lifting his hand up to his lips and tasting the mixture of sweat and pre that had coated its form. Exquisite. In fact, he might just have to get a taste straight from the source. Bringing his arm back from behind the Quilava, the dark-type slid himself off the sauna bench, standing in front of the fire-type student. Had Quinley been able to focus even a few feet in front of himself through the steam and fogginess of his dizzied eyes, he'd plainly be able to see how worked up the Zoroark was. Angling slightly upwards between his legs was a deep grey shaft, also uncut like the Quilava's, with a slight flash of red from his crimson-colored glans peeking past the rolled-back foreskin.

Kneeling down, Mister Zachery placed his muzzle right against Quinley's chest, slowly sniffling down it as he inhaled that sweaty scent of just-turned-teen. His nose slid down further, at a snail's pace, enjoying every last centimeter of that sweetly salty smelling skin. The boy's sweat accumulated just underneath the Zoroark's nose, a short distance away from his lips. Even the slightest flick of his tongue up and he could taste that salty boy-essence, and the teacher was not shy at all while he sniffed and licked a trail down to the Quilava's groin.

At long last the Zoroark reached his destination, his chin feeling the upturned tip of that half-hard member against it. Pulling away from that sweaty groin--regretfully--Austin tilted his head down and gently laid a kiss atop the Quilava's foreskin-covered tip. Here his sweat was just barely overpowered by that boyish flavoring, the barest hints of apple-spice of a fire-weasel's precum intermixed with his sweat. Closing his lips around that bunch of foreskin, the teacher first gave a gentle suck and tug with them, pulling it taut before sliding his tongue into it, rubbing against the frenulum first before that taster swirled around and slid along the top-side of Quinley's glans.

The stimulation to his member seemed to stir that fire-type to life just a little bit--he wasn't just an object to be played with, or so he wished. A weak hand dropped down to the Zoroark's head, trying to push the adult away while he gave a weak cry of displeasure. It did little to change how he was treated, the warmth of that hebophile's mouth beginning to surround more of his member until his foreskin was rolled back by the chemist's tongue and lips, and some paws had placed themselves on the Quilava's hips; they grasped ahold of that underwear waistband and tugged it down further, all the way to Quinley's ankles.

Taking more than just that glans into his maw, Mister Zachery bobbed his head down further, sliding this tongue along until he reached the Quilava's base, giving a low gulp as he suckled the student's entire member, not that it was a difficult task. The pubescent boy was not very well endowed--he just had a proportionate member to his small size. Two hands rested on Quinley's knees, lightly squeezing them before spreading them apart, causing the fire-weasel's nuts to drop downwards between his sweaty, furry thighs. His molester did nothing with them, for the moment, simply content to bob and suckle that boyhood until it reached a full, humiliating erection in his mouth.

With his nose buried against the Quilava's crotch, Austin could feel every pump of blood that filled the length thickening between his lips. The boy's warmth, just barely a bit hotter than the sauna air, was slowly seeping into that shaft's core, spreading throughout and heating the soft dribbles of precum as they were secreted. The student's length gave a soft twitch, and the muscles in that pubic groin flexed against the chemist's nose--seemed as if instinct remained when the brain shut down from heat.

The dark-fox pulled his lips off of that member slowly, savoring every last moment of that shaft as it trailed out from his mouth. Those sensitive edges could feel every minute detail of his victim's erectedness; the slight curve towards the left and up, the way his glans angled from its shaft, turning upwards as well, that hot sweaty-slickness of his bare, exposed tip and the smoothness of the foreskin that surrounded it.

Popping off of that prick with a soft plop, the Zoroark gave one more smooch to the boy's tip, licking clean the small droplets of precum that formed as his lips had left. He slid his nose down that shaft now, laying a gentle kiss upon the pubescent student's sack, grasping hold of it with his teeth and gently pulling it aside as his nose dipped underneath of it, inhaling and pushing against the fire-type's sweaty taint. Oh gods, the scent and moisture of it was everything the teacher could have wished for and more. His tongue slicked out, extended all the way to Quinley's closest rim-edge and worked its long, lapping path back up, cleansing and grooming the young boy's puffy, furred taint shamelessly.

He kissed and sucked at that soft, malleable flesh, starting to drool just a bit, not only from his mouth but from the cup of foreskin surrounding his own tip. Between those sweaty thighs was the strongest place of that fire-type's scent yet, and the aphrodisiac affect was impossibly strong. Smooching harder, suckling that taintfur into his maw and bathing it clean of sweat and oiled musk only made the Zoroark even harder, his dark-grey member giving a twitch and a sputter of precum down its sweaty shaft, adding to the moisture of it and his bottom. Saliva replaced sweat, and soon the student's between-thighs was soaking almost completely with that, and the Zoroark gave a pull on those thighs, sliding the critter further forward, exposing more and more of his backside.

Quinley had a troublemaking streak, and was undoubtedly punished by the principal of the boarding school many times, though that seemed to have no effect upon his taut pink ring. Perhaps the Arcanine discipliner never used that bottom in punishments, or it could be that the Quilava was able to rebound from said punishments with ease. Either way, as the Zoroark tested that rim's pliability with his tongue he found that pucker tight and stretchy--sweaty like the rest of his and the student's body.

One hand left the fire-weasel's knee, sliding up his inner thigh and a single digit took the place of that tongue as it withdrew. That grey, red-tipped finger pressed into Quinley's pucker, feeling the boy above start to squeeze and clench just slightly, only mentally aware enough to do that as his body and mind fought the ever increasing heat of the sauna. Sweat rolled down the student's furred neck and chest, stickying the fibers of his pelt together, their color darkened with dampness. Back and forth that digit rubbed against the Quilava's entrance, circling the ring and pushing just a half-inch inside before withdrawing again, tormenting the boy.

Austin's other hand dropped towards the Quilava's ankles, slipping one foot out from the hole in his briefs. The Zoroark forcibly spread Quinley's legs even further, slinking between them as he added a second digit to that backside, and pressed them on opposite sides of his pucker, spreading it apart and turning that dipped-circle into a thin-widthed oval. That hand previously upon his student's foot moved back towards the fox's shaft, grasping the foreskin near its very tip, bunched together and squeezing shut as he moved. His glans was surrounded by warm precum leakage, and with the only exit blocked it continued to fill up and increase in heat.

Sweat dribbled down the Zoroark's neck and back, his pony-tail acting like an insulator for the heat. Imperceptible to his own nose, having grown desensitized to it, the dark-type's dominating musk filled and overpowered the boy's slight scent in that sauna. It added to his dizzied confusion, his neck feeling weakened and unable to hold his head up straight so it nodded around aimlessly, eyes upon it blinking rapidly and without pattern.

Quinley's mind managed to put together that something was coming, at least, and connecting it to the Zoroark he perceived that he probably didn't want whatever it was in the slightest. Try as he might, he couldn't lift up his heavy arms, and let his head fall backwards, the back of it resting upon the hot wood of the sauna's walls. The motion displayed his nape once more, wet where the pedophilic Zoroark had kissed.

He felt something at his backside, something beyond the pair of two fingers which had been toying with and stretching his ring. Whatever it was, it reminded him of the principal's punishments, and he shuddered in anxiety. He had never been punished with anything more than a "plug"--and it was doubtful that the stern chemistry teacher would be any less gentle than the large Arcanine was.

The something lifted just a centimeter over his entrance and Quinley inhaled through his nose, barely able to breathe with the steam and moisture which filled the room so thickly, amplifying the Zoroark's muskiness. Something warm and slick dribbled out from where that object touched his taint, leaking down a slippery substance over his stretched open pucker. He thought he could hear whatever that fluid was drip and 'sss' on the wooden boards beneath him, but the sound was drowned out by the adult's lustful exhale, breath brushing over his cheeks. When did Mister Zachery's face come that close?

Before he could even begin to attempt to think his lips were violated once again by the Zoroark, pushed up vilely against the teacher's own in a firm smooch. A wet, sweaty-tasting tongue intruded into Quinley's lips, sliding alongside his own taster, wetting it down with the adult's drool. He gagged softly, almost choking on that saliva as he resisted swallowing. As the dark-type pulled backwards that spittle dripped out the corners of his lips, running over and soaking his chin with wetness.

The Quilava breathed hard, trying to catch his breath between that kiss and the heat of the sauna. His mouth was stolen once more, this time to muffle that sudden squeak of pain when Mister Zachery pushed his uncut tip against his backside, foreskin piling against that ringed hole as it was peeled backwards from that crimson glans. Quinley mutely squealed, unable to move or breathe as he was penetrated into.

Austin's sweaty body came down upon his own, their closeness heating up the fire-type even further. His mind was in a complete haze, hardly able to focus on anything between the hard, uncomfortable kiss he was receiving and the penetration to his backside. His entrance stretched and widened further as the Zoroark's malehood intruded into that tight tunnel. He could feel hot squirts of the adult male's precum pump and coat into his walls before the fox stopped his inwards pressing. Quinley squinted open an eye, trying to focus in front of himself. He caught the vision of that instructor looking at him and held the gaze for just a half second before the scene grew blurry again.

Two hands fell down onto the Quilava's legs, grasping them near the bottom of the thighs and pulling them up. They felt heavy to the fire-type, though the Zoroark seemed to have no problem positioning in that humiliating crossing right over his grey hips. It seemed as if that was what the chemist wanted, as his hands returned to the weasel's hips, gripping them at their side and pulling them down on his shaft as Austin thrust forward.

This time Quinley's squeal wasn't able to be muted by just that mouth, and the Quilava fed his molester his outcry, a tear rolling out the corner of his eye and down his cheek, mingling with that sweat that soaked his fur through. That was it, then, he wasn't a virgin any longer. The sweaty crotch of the pedophile teacher had made sure of that, leaving that fat dick buried to its hilt inside his pubescent rear. It stretched and heated that boy's body up even further, shamefully pleasuring him as it nudged up against a growing gland.

Once more the Zoroark suckled hard on the fire-type's lips, pulling off of them with a pop and a slimy trail of saliva leading from one to the other. The adult brought his head up higher, placing his lips against Quinley's ear and gave a low groan into it, nudging his groin against that backside with a small little thrust.

"Aahh... you've got a tight little boyhole, don't you, Quinley?" he groaned, breathing out over that ear. "Haa... yeaahh... I'm gonna make it nice and fitting for me, make it molded to my shape..." grunted the teacher, pulling himself backwards slowly before suddenly pressing back to the hilt before even removing himself halfway out. A pair of grey nuts padded right against the Quilava's bum, not even a centimeter over the wooden-slatted bench the boy rested on.

Unable to do anything more the Quilava shied himself closer to the wall he was pressed up against. It was hot on his back and fire-vents. That thrust into his backside and subsequent sliding along his prostate brought forth a shameful splurt of precum, the lubricating liquid spilling out the bowl his foreskin had made and messing the fur right below his belly-button. Mutely he sniffled, both because his rump was sorely stretched and because he was afraid when that soreness started to subside.

"Mmffh... you hot little cocksock... I'll make you enjoy it as much as I do," reverberated the Zoroark's voice in Quinley's ear, terribly intimidating. The teacher pulled himself back out further, holding still for a moment as his cocktip was right about at the boy's prostate gland. From here he gave a slow back and forth grinding against that button, each nudge against causing a clench and twitch from the student's backside and short prick, more of the Quilava's precum splurting out and making a mess of that tummy.

That student's face flushed bright red, overheated from the sauna and from the embarrassment of actually enjoying what was happening to him down there. The soreness of his rear had diminished itself to a low throbbing of displeasure, and that back-and-forth motion was actually pleasurable. Inhaling that sweat-musk filled humid air, the student tried once more to move, only to find himself lacking the energy. It was completely sapped from him, the humiliating words said by his teacher only making the sexual abuse worse.

While Quinley's motion failed to move his appendages, most notably those legs wrapped the Zoroark's hips, he did manage to unintentionally clench down upon that intruding member, squeezing around the uncut shaft and tightening up his passage even further. His back curved just slightly, filling the corner between the bench and wall as the Quilava shrank backwards. That curled form grew even hotter in its compactedness, and he breathed in heavily, panting with lidded eyes as the adult rutted his behind.

"Oohh... just a little more..." grunted Austin. Sweat dripped off of his body and onto the boy below, his male odor growing stronger and stronger as his arousal neared its peak. "Aahh... gonna bloat your belly with it..." he panted, that Zoroark coming closer to his much-needed release. How long had it been now? Three weeks? A month? Didn't matter any longer, supposed the chemist, it was soon to be just a few moments.

The weasel's hips flexed as that Zoroark's paw dipped down, grasping at the tip of the boy's foreskin and giving it a tug. He gave a muffled whine, his core flexing and squirming as strange pulses of pleasure shocked through him. His mind refused it, but his body acted, and with a little bit of stolen strength those sweaty boyish thighs of his squeezed up and pulled himself to Mister Zachery's hilt, smushing his rear up against that pelvis. Another jolt of shameful pleasure zapped up his spine as his inner gland was stimulated, pre splurting from his short prick and slickening up the fingers pinching at his excess flesh.

He gave a deeply embarrassed cry as the chemistry teacher began to thrust harder and faster into him, giving short quick thrusts that spread him wide and grinded against his prostate. Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, the adult pushed his hips hard against his backside and let out a long, loud groan. The rod in his rear gave a pulse, starting to twitch and swell. Quinley could feel it stiffen inside him, and the way the Zoroark's body seemed to mimic that caused him to shudder dreadfully.

A throb pulsed its way through that grey shaft, coming from the very root of that length deep within the teacher's groin to its tip. As that pumping sensation came to the front-edge of his teacher's shaft, the Quilava quivered further as he felt a thick splurt of something sticky gush into his backside. It was quickly followed by another spurt, and another and another. Just as that pedophile had promised, he was being cummed inside, and judging by the sheer amount of those twitches and squirts, his belly would soon bloat out a bit too.

Each gush of the chemistry teacher's cock caused the pressure in Quinley's rear to grow higher and higher, his tummy starting to bulge as the adult filled him up to the brim. He could feel his stuffedness starting to overcome that total filling, as some of the Zoroark's seed began to squish out past that dark-grey shaft, dripping down and matting the fur along his backside. The overflow began to drizzle down, right over his tailbone and dripping onto the wooden floor below, his hips pulled far enough off the bench that they were only supported by that hard shaft.

Moaning out in ecstasy, the instructor remained himself steady, buried inside that hot, squeezing bottom. Each twitching jet of release caused a shiver to run up his spine, though the adult male held still, stiffly hilted inside the younger boy as his plump balls relieved their stored and pent-up load. His eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard out of his nose with each gushing of seed that surged from him.

It'd been so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like--especially that feeling of orgasming inside another person--doubly so for one at that ripe age of puberty. Barely able to contain himself, Austin gave a stirring twirl with his hips, moving his shaft in a slow circle, swishing that hot load around in the Quilava's backside, finally pulling himself out with the last few pulses of his orgasm.

As if timed perfectly with it, the sauna gave a small buzz, and the fans blowing the heater's heat stopped. Seemed as if the temperature had maxed out its "safe" level. Only now did the Zoroark realize truly how sweaty he and his student were, their bodies completely soaked. The chemistry teacher stroked his semi-stiff length, squeezing out the very last droplets of semen and letting them fall onto Quinley's taint, smearing his gooey tip against that sweaty taint.

"Aahh... wasn't that fun, Quinley?" The Zoroark laughed tauntingly. The sauna seemed to be venting the hot air, and gradually the student was coming back to. "Hmph, I'll leave you your clothing outside. Don't be too late for your next class," said the stern teacher. Squeezing one last dollop of his seed off onto his hand, the chemist pressed gooey fingertips through the Quilava's soaked chestfur, marking him with that scent.

That boy could do nothing more as he lay there, exhausted by the heat. As the sauna vented, energy returned to his body, but by the time he could push himself up from his position the Zoroark had since left. Standing up on a pair of shaky feet, Quinley pulled his wet underwear back up around his hips, wincing as the back of them slipped between his cheeks, growing gooey as well. He trotted forward with a stiff, sore gait, exiting the humid room and inhaling in a precious breath of cool air.

As promised, a pile of clothing awaited that Quilava, partially folded. Bending down to pick it up was a pain, but it was better than remaining nude. Atop that pile was a note from the Zoroark. Somehow managing through his dehydration induced headache the student read: Please excuse Quinley for tardiness. He and I were replacing a burnt lab-coat.

A bitter taste filled Quinley's mouth. Accept the note or not? He set it aside, putting his clothing back on. It clung to his sweaty fur, beginning to stain through just slightly. The button at the top of his pants wouldn't clasp, and feeling his stomach the Quilava noticed a notable increase in his tummy's size. Sniffing a bit before giving a sigh, he sucked in as best he could and buttoned it, the pressure against his cum-filled belly a bit uncomfortable. Finally, he picked that note back up, stuffing it in his pocket.

It'd be better than going to the principal's office for being late--he was already sore enough.