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M y heart rate quickened pace every time I walked into the locker room. Every single time, no matter if it was brimming with jocks and geeks changing into their red-and-white P.E. uniforms, or whether I was in there alone for a quick post-game shower. In addition to causing a heart rate surge, however, the former also possessed the ability to make it skip a beat. Or two. Three, tops. Bear, wolf, fox, skunk or even fellow hyena: it didn't matter. To be in their company, so comfortable and frank and scantily clad answered the question we all have grappled with at some point in our young lives: what is the meaning of life? We debated this topic just a week ago in my philosophy class, in fact, and if I had the balls to say it, I would've raised my hand and answered: "Uh, bros, the reason to get up in the mornings is in the locker room after gym class. Pay closer attention sometime, it'll do ya some good." I knew at least a few of the guys would've said "amen" to that; we did go to a boys-only high school after all.

But I didn't have the balls to say that...it was too obvious. I knew everyone knew I liked the D anyway, even though I never explicitly told anyone. But still. I mean, I suck cock every Thursday in the upstairs boy's bathroom, not even for money...not like anyone knew it was me, anyway. I guess it was that gentle sway of my hips, that subtly delicate way I moved my hands when I walked, the fact that I let my pants sag around my hips to give the guys a peek at my undies almost constantly that made my presence holler to the boys: "Yeah, I bottom, so what? At least I don't cry when I do it, like you would!" Unless, of course, I was imaging proclaiming that to one of the big boys. And gee, were there some big boys in my P.E. class. They might be able to make my cry.

During this particular gym class, the twenty-five of us partook in some "exhilarating" exercise routines. We often participated in sports during class, but today was one of those "work-out" days. I liked those days. It promised more one-on-one contact, and today was especially exhilarating because my partner was Bradley, a hulking muscle-chub of bear whose eyes were almost always hidden under a thick mop haircut, topped with his favorite black-and-yellow baseball cap. He was a shy one, and pretty dumb too. He didn't know any better than to clump around the hallways and bowl over freshman with his backpack when he turned too quickly. He had a deep, uncertain voice when the class bell rang and he said: "Uhhh, good work-out bro." He slapped my butt when I stood up from the mat.

I beamed a grin at him. "Ooh! Yes, very!" I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "You're the best work-out partner I've had yet. And I think I've worked out with every guy here." I chuckled in my head. "Are you on the baseball team?"

"I'm on the wrestling team," he said, dislodging a wedgie from his jiggling, butterball rump. "Why?"

I scratched my head and blushed. "Oh, cause...cause you slapped my butt. I didn't know if you played baseball. They do that a lot, don't they?"

He furrowed his brow and squinted in thought. "I think they do that in football more." He rotated his torso and shouted: "Yo, Lance, who slaps more butts? You or Scooter?"

Lance, a horse of the severest vertical proportion, looked to Bradley angrily and then to Scooter, a cougar who was arguably the buffest guy in the whole class. "Dude, what the hell are you talking about?"

Bradley frowned. "Shorty and I want to know who slaps butts more: baseball players or football players. I just thought you or Scooter might know since you're on the baseball team and he's on the football team."

The horse looked to his cougar pal and shook his head. "Dumb wrestlers," he said as they trotted off to the locker room.

I strained myself to reach up and put my arm around the bear. "Hey, don't worry about those guys, bro. I remember now: football players do do it more than baseball players. You're right!" I patted him, matting his white and red-trimmed t-shirt to his sweaty back. "Come on, let's go change."

He smiled down to me and tousled my hair when I removed my arm and we walked to the locker room.

The space was buzzing loudly, the sound of laughter was most rowdily punctuating talk of how the class had just gone, what was for lunch, and after-school hijinks. The cold cement, metal and wood that the room and its fixtures were made of were unforgiving to the ear and caused every noise, not to flow, but to pang sharply. I shouted up to Bradley: "Bring your backpack over to me! Let's talk some more!" He nodded and obliged.

My spot on the bench was right in the middle of the middle-most bench. I liked to be in the middle. The middle was warm. Perhaps a bit warmer and sweatier because everyone's body heat seemed to flow to it, but whatevs! I liked it. The bear took a seat next to me on the thin lacquered bench.

My shorts were festooned low around my hips--in fact, under my hips--allowing my butt to pop out and my cheeky boxers, with their silly smiley face print, to billow from the top. The silky rice-hole mesh fabric of my gym shorts pooled around my thighs, yet stayed taught on top of them, accentuating my chubby muscles and making them glimmer in the fluorescent overhead lights. I leaned over, bubble butt hanging out in the open behind me, to untie my sneakers. When they were off, I looked up to the bear and said: "I've always been interested in wrestling, you know. I wish I was bigger, like yo--" Bradley looked down at me blankly. "I mean, I wish I was more muscular, like you. I'm so small: they don't call me 'Shorty' for nothing."

He slid his silky, shiny gym shorts down and revealed his massive package all wrapped up in a teeny blue jock strap. "I thought they call you 'Shorty' 'cause you're always in your basketball shorts."

I bit my lip. "Uhhhh...yes and no." I slid my shorts down too and tilted my feet inwards to each other. "It started as an insult when I was a freshman. All the upperclassmen used to make fun of me because I'm little. Even now that I'm a senior, it seems to have stuck."

"Aw," he said in his low, slow voice. "I think your height is cute."

I blushed hard under my fur. "I think your height is cute, too."

He brought his voice down to what he thought was a whisper, but was actually rather loud. "Are you the dude that gives the blowjobs on Thursdays in the upstairs bathroom?" A few of the guys near us seemed to be eavesdropping, but continued shuffling through their lockers.

"Who, me?" I laughed nervously; the only way he could've known was if he had visited me on some Thursday afternoon. So I brought my voice down to a real whisper: "Well, umm, yeah it's me, you got me. Why?"

He continued loudly, sliding his socks off his feet. "You gave me a B-J last month. When you just said 'uhhhh' it sounded like how you were moaning. Remember?"

Truthfully, I'd suck six or seven cocks a day when I was offering them. "Honestly? No." I grinned.

He grinned back and laughed stupidly. "Huh huh huh. You slut." He winked. "You seemed quieter than that."

I shrugged. "I guess it's always the quiet ones, right? That's what they say."

He looked at me inquisitively. "Who says that?"

I laughed and slapped his back. "They! You! It's not important." Voice low, I continued: "What is important is that I can finally pair a face to a cock!" Although I saw every guy's junk when we changed, it was hard to match them up with the ones that slipped into my mouth in that bathroom stall. "You're the only guy that knows it's me, you know. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

I turned to him to seal the secret with a bro-fist, or a nod, or something, but he was looking to the other end of the locker room at Lance. "Yo!" he called out. "Lance! Remember you wanted to know who sucked our cocks? It's Shorty!" He picked me up off the bench and hugged me tightly into his pudgy, fluffy side, smiling like a dope.

The room was quiet for a change as my heart dropped; and by the looks of it, so did Lance's. And Scooter 's. And the two skunks'. And the three foxes'. And the five wolves'. Everyone stood still, looking at me and Bradley, double-blinking awkwardly, mouths slightly agape.

Finally, Lance's voice pierced the embarrassing silence. "What are you talking about, bear? I ain't never let no cock-sucking hyena bitch near my horsehood!" He formed a cup with his hands, put it near his package, and thrust it forward.

Scooter added: "Yeah! Why don't you gay boys go hump each other and leave us out of it! We don't want to know about your sucking! We know you suck already!" He laughed and elbowed Lance. "Hey, who do you think is the bottom?"

The horse flicked his wrist limply. "I bet it's the 'yena. I've seen his hole when he bends over to change. I saw a butt plug in it one day!"

He, Scooter and other others erupted into laughter. Bradley, however, was not amused. He stamped over to Lance and pushed him against the locker. "Bro! You'd better knock it off!" Lance flinched violently. "This dumb wrestler gonna mess you up!"

I jumped around excitedly at the fight and Bradley's upper hand. "Yeah Lance! Don't you call me a bitch or he'll mess your shit up!" I tilted my head cockily and smirked at him. Everyone laughed, not at me or Bradley, but at Lance and Scooter.

Bradley picked up their book bags and stomped out of the locker room--still in his jockstrap--and threw them across the polished wood floor of the basketball court. He came back and demanded to the senior instigators: "Get going. And Shorty's never gonna suck you two again!"

I grimaced. "Well, hang on there champ, let's not get too hasty here...I like to--"

The bear frowned at me. "You're better than that, dude. You're a sweet guy with a hungry mouth and the totes hottest bubble booty around. You don't need to suck these assholes."

I looked up at him innocently. "But can I at least suck their assholes?"

He laughed loudly as the others chuckled good-naturedly at our exchange. It was nice to know people were cool with me and what I liked to do. But then he whispered for real when he said: "You can suck mine."

For the next three consecutive weeks, Bradley was always the first to get his B-J, and for three consecutive weeks, I swallowed every last drop of his thick white cum. Lance and Scooter never showed up again...maybe when they apologized I'd give them what they needed, but I actually assumed they finally figured out they could just suck each other off and leave little, quiet old me alone. Bradley's dick was fat enough that I didn't need anyone else to help me get off anyway. And he was so enthusiastic, too. He'd chuckle his deep, dumb chuckle--"Huh huh huh"--as he slid his cock through the hole and let it rest on top of my muzzle, making me go cross-eyed to get a good look at it. Then I'd stick my tongue out and lap at the tip, making sure to hold onto it with both of my paws because that was the only way I could handle all of it. Then I took the tip into my muzzle and sucked. Then another inch. And another. Until finally all 11" was tickling the back of my throat, pushing the boundaries of how much one hyena could physically put in his mouth. Then, with both hands at the base of his dick--and with a couple fingers poking and tickling his fuzzy ball sack--I twisted them around and brought my head forward and back. Forward and back, forward and back it went, polished with a little spin every here and there. It was a guaranteed-to-make-ya-cream technique that had my massive chubby friend moaning loudly until he finally did just that: creamed. And he gushed it, the first shots coating the back of my throat, salty and nourishing. He filled my mouth with his jizz--and I mean filled it--so I slid his cock out and let the rest paint my face white. I enjoyed the feeling of warm bear cum on my face as much as I liked it in my mouth or up my ass. Actually, I'd never had warm bear cum up my ass. When the climax was over, I slid on my back under the stall and into his. He looked down at me with his baggy pants and boxers around his ankles, dick still glistening with my spit.

"Ever fuck a hyena in the ass before?" I asked with a smirk.

"Duhhhhhhh...no," he said bashfully.

I grinned. "Want to?" He grinned back and nodded "yes" eagerly. "Shall I go back into my stall and spread my cheeks for ya?" He continued to grin and nod, so I pushed his cock into the hole, still hard and slippery, went into my stall and assumed the position...