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My GYM PARTNER'S BRO IS AT STATE, HO!

THE SERIES

PORTION I

by Eightane

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"Young ladies. Young men. I welcome you...

There was a clatter down the corridor. Huge sneakers, and bare petite feet, together in a 2-3-resonance of pace.

"No matter what anyone's said to you, we deal in expanding your understanding. Let there be no confusion..."

The two pairs of plods followed the words. It was a faint noise from their locale, but growing and exponential when they turned a sharp right and one less wall could shield their differing ears.

"Mr. Garver's class is not a lecture house. It's bright chances at contribution, continually. All of this year, I'll be watching you involve yourselves. Correspond, solve things amongst your peers. This is use of your time befitting what you aspire to. And it's not up for debate..."

The ape picked out syllables here and there, where one couldn't before. A few more paces and the orange ball of monkey fuzz did too, tail swishing, not from eagerness like a dog's. More of a signal. No one would see it now, with all rooms filled, but they would.

"Count yourselves fortunate." The professor went on, droning his intro with animated tones for such hogwash. "Learning history this way, you thread knowledge together. We share the past, after all, and I-"

The door swung open; no, more accurately, blew open. The rubber stop at toe-level saved the frame. Green glass wobbled but held.

It was all eyes on them. Twenty-five some-odd college freshmen, gazelles to leopards to a monitor lizard. Neophytes in this grand institution, most thirsting to learn and justify tuition. And their two tardy additions didn't clash with that last idea, either... Even if the eldest in the room, at his teaching desk, already had cause to disbelieve that.

He took off his specs and dropped them in his pocket. His eyes were fine; no lenses, it was merely style. At least two students shrank back in their chairs, however... They were the flunked returners, who'd seen Garver pull this stunt before. The meaning - and disdain - was clear. "Ahhh, I thought it felt sparse in here. And there I was thinking you'd chose to sit out the whole day, knowing you've already screwed up." He had a twitch in his whiskers; the two thick brooms that made up his sandy moustache, a balding walrus with a navy bow tie and a three-piece suit in caramel, versus two pieces of crap waltzing in like being late was customary.

But if intimidation ever found its way to Will, it bounced off his immunity. The 6-feet-plus of gorilla rolled up one sleeve, then the other; said nothing, spotted a desk in the room's left-center, and lumbered over, smooth like a suave ambling bulldozer. The professor may as well have said sky is blue and sugar has calories; it was about as incidental.

His shorter bro, though, had a chronic mouth and wielded it. "Don't mind my dude there, hah. Our Uber drove a Tercel. Do the math." He ended with hissed chuckles; more of a slight lisp, infusing his tenor. The tank-sized 'rilla hummed, and bass made the door's glass recall its trembling.

Mr. Garver, it seemed, had his muses for the day and semester. It would be too easy. As was his comeback, rapid-fire. "We don't do math, this is history. Like you, if this repeats itself."

Now, Will broke his handy silence. "You have your show to run, we're aware. Take it out on the driver though, attack the source. He's easy to find, it's the green hoopty backfiring all across town."

The walrus had enough. His hands hit the desk, didn't pound it and they weren't fists, but the way his greyed fingermeat wrapped around the lip, it was a sight more ominous. "Give me one reason not to kick you out before you draw another gasp and steal air from true students."

Well now, this would be a time for the truth. "A little thing called the Silverback Trust. You know, the shitload of funds donated to build this wing and likely swell your salary? My dad was a damn sight proud. He even forewent the tax breaks."

Snickers puffed up from around the room; blank faces had become smirks, a little admiration here and there for the chutzpah, some shades of partial envy as well. A femme wombat had her eyes on the simian, rather wishing he saw her back. And Garver's countenance sank, joining his heart. The return was defeatist. "Goody. We have our entitled guest for this quarter."

"And his guest, the spindly dumpster! Y'all don't know-" Jerr started, every phrase with bounce. "-But I'll cool it, we gotta start somewhere." He was casual but nowhere near dumb. "A'ight, we missed by maybe a minute, wanna press reset big guy?" He had open mouth; a laid-back chimp butch enough but with suspect tongue; and the last two words had an air of their own, to be determined.

Three or four peers wore faces of slowly realizing, tickled. The puzzled blubberbutt could have steam-cooked corn with his ears right now, but, money talked, and his was to listen. So the decision was made. "Ignoring the 'why', I'll start over. Young ladies, young men, I welcome you."

Jerr's hand went up. Will of course had position next to him, and his giant mitt calmly reached out, closed over chimp's wrist, and lowered it. Warm and familiar.

It's not like Garver missed this. "At least you've got couth, Silverback, but let's let the monkey dig his own hole."

Jerr busted a gut laughing. The walrus made a fist after all, and slammed it like a hammer.

The chimp calmly straightened; or his posture did. Stammers came while the laugh died down. "I just-*ghm*-... gotta wonder, you not believe in gentlemen, sir? Or is it a 'when I see it' kinda thing?" He laid paws flat and drummed the desk. It sounded full and rich, no matter the tiny hands used to start it. He quieted himself, but barely in time.

Garver played along when it suited him; that would be now. "So you can say something I don't retch over. Too bad you'll never hear that term told to you."

"Oh I can be gentle, dawg..." Only slight hints of temperance lived in Jerr, and so kept him from lifting hands and slipping a finger through an OK-sign. In his mind, he did it over and over. There was imagery within him, of possible sights behind that desk. All things in due time.

The class academic - a moose girl of twenty, valedictorian in high school but delayed by two years for the bundle of joy her boyfriend now doted on at home - brushed her green-and-black highlights from one side of her face. An Egyptian glyph tat under her right eye stretched with every blink. "You seem fun. I want you to last here, if you can get it together. Moderation goes far."

Will's lower jaw furrowed, a show of no love but mute agreement. He laid a hand on Jerr's shoulder, another kickstart to that monkey's submission, in this case not spitting fire at being called out by... Well, her. Problems were easy to solve for Will, school or elsewise. Jerr cast eyes over to him, quieted. Will took a deep breath, his chest swelled, and three voices in the room sighed richly; one was the best bud he touched. Across the seat aisles, one albatross snickered more than most... Moptopped, black shirt and shorts over white quills, he knew who he'd be chatting up on arrival of lunch period. The statuesque ape happened to glance his way, thus spotting the nod given oh-so-subtle in this house meant for learning.

Will smiled back, eyes narrow, and Garver's tone went south in a hurry. "Fine, another chance for the slick dual dingleberries. Do you know where you are?"

Jerr said "History." Will added "Class."

"And what are we here to learn?"

Will spoke "Tidbits of-". Jerr supplanted "The past."

"To start with!" He was poised to expand on that, but Jerr had sensed a rhyme...

... He added a third to round it out. "And views of dat ass."

Below his cap, eyes skewed. They went nowhere but center of the walrus' desk, and not to the surface either. There was an angered query - or questioning fury - on the face of their professor. Will just reached over, rubbed Jerr's cap, and his lean stomach. "Pardons, if you can. Coffee and his branch of the primates don't blend." The ape had vocabulary to him, for sure, rare for such an overhuge mongoloid. He didn't seem to mind copious touch on his friend, either.

It didn't mean much of squat to Garver; this was the last straw. "You seem close. How'd you like spending your lives flipping patties or cleaning gutters? There's always job openings, you can share the torture and you won't need me to get there! How fortuitous."

Yes, it might have been an ultimatum, but Will had profundity behind him. Clasping hands together, elbows on the desk, the girth of his arms just thrived in this and in sight of everyone. "What we needed was to show our colours. Say we walked in and sat like perfect socialites, it'd be easy on you, like for your teacher, right? I mean there's no possibility you had youth, where you CARED about lessons but saw a lot to glean from your age group. Sure as you're hunched over there waiting to go on, you never, ever had reason to invite new bonds, eh? Being blank and stern was ideal to make the most of who surrounded you." This, and he sat back, creaking the locustwood chair with several hundred pounds' worth of him. There was no dismissiveness, no rude gesture to bookend it. He'd simply said a piece, about a man with great veneers put up over loneliness. It traced 'professional' bounds, came off as part of procedure. Some it just didn't fool.

Garver twitched again; between irritated relent, powerless notions, he rubbed his brow. "You're not a pushover with psychology, then. Be that as it may, I'm going to start talking now. And this is a one-man show."

Jerr's tail kinked so slightly. Will nodded, which was much more visible and also the best right answer.

Finally, agreement seemed comprehensive. "Ex-cellent. We start for serious then." He strummed his cuff links on his left arm with fingers from rightie. "I elect to kick my students off with things gone untaught too often, by that virtue unknown. Who here can tell me anything about the War of Spanish Succession?"

Will, versed enough in this and more, wanted to lift that jackhammer-arm and its hand... But he'd done enough already. It would fall to a milder person right now. That happened to be the albatross, whose antsy rise of right wing neared cartoonish. "Yes, Rodrigo?" Garver spoke in nicer ways than he'd likely ever give the primates here.

From the name, it might be ascertained what gave the bird dude his wisdom. Replies were smart, and... Kind of went uncommonly. "It started over lack of faith in the king of Spain at the time, Charles second." He rattled it off with both arms out; one of the emotive sort. "Turns out the poor sod was inbred so bad from all these monarch families keeping IT in the family, and the riches and titles with that sort of arranged weddings. Good thing there's no genetics beauty contests... Except they kind of all are... Anyhow, he didn't have the fortitude to rule well, they cut down the few duties he could do from pity and good intent. He sure had to love gettin' the baby treatment, and gettin' it good-intentions style, Christ what a sorry lot. Plus the country had wartime and other troubles; it was one of those things where the ship was already going down but they threw on another captain just to sink with it. Neither one was Columbus." There was nerve in all his gabbing, no malice, all ego, shades of crazy. He already had Will smiling, knowledge and cajones in the same body, that man's bread 'n' butter. Jerr and the rest hinged on his every word, no reason not to. "Then he died, no kids, no heirs. And with a kingdom huger-than-huge at the time, all of Europe sought to place their own choice on that chair. Didn't matter, he had a will, and gave it all to a family member. Your guess why they didn't check that first. The powers that be didn't like his choice... If, eh, y' pay me for telling the whole thing for you, I'd prefer it be in Dr. Pepper. Bottled. Yeah, it goes on a ways from there."

Garver had his hands locked. Walrus' right thumb twiddled the side of the other, picking out a dust fleck. The returning, less-ambitious students balked right about now; it was FAR from good when the professor showed this out. "By which you mean it's a major world conflict, yes, that's a way one could put it. Not wrong at all." There was a change in his eyes; subtle, almost growth of his pupils. Dilation, unable to judge this oddball just yet. He looked out to the class, and sipped his mocha. Warm mug in-hand, he picked out his first non-volunteer. "You, the tall one at middle-back-left... Percy Rutledge, I think you were? Was this among your curriculum?"

Albatross, ape, moose and monkey, many others looked on the 7 feet of Javan Rhino. He had a shy layer, but it was mostly his blush while he tried to play up brains. "N-nah, don't think so. They mostly had us on woodworking and farm-support stuff in Iowa."

The walrus whiskers sank a bit. "Teach what you use, they used to say. Good on them for that. But..." He stated it like jagged blades of air; the dense answer had a hand in that, but more to blame was the clatter, a low rattle at Will's desk. It stopped quickly. Students scratched all the time. Teacher smacked his chops without sound, seeing the culprit, just remembering before. "... Joe Cousin or whomever became King Anonymous. Who knows the name?"

Will chimed in, one hand scratching this chest; it spanned twice a seat's width. Jerr's eyes were missed, darting up and down to the greatest ebbs. The dark fur ruffled under 'rilla shirt. "Philip, already a Duke, thereafter over more than Anjou." He liked the cut of Percy's jib, even if the pose - a golden boy strut even sitting still - didn't bode well. He thought to have fun two ways at once, cutting joke and some mild heat like he felt in his drawers. "I got a mini-library back at home upstate, you can send him there for coffee and some reads. Careful though, touch-football might break out, I'm a freak over it." He rolled some vowels, soft as his deep notes allowed, while the entendres kept on.

Funny thing is, the rhino hadn't caught on, even when half the room did, but already he sat offput as fuck... His own confusion over why didn't help. He took the ape's friendly line as all-jab, and did verbal stabbing-back of his own. "Well tell him I don't need his tutor-wannabe hand to hold. We got here as two tadpoles. Let's see who jumps out to the damn lilypads first." He almost stopped before the last word's end, and coughed; it was one time, a spit choke, and abated.

But Will saw already... He was right. Yep, no two ways about it. So he just followed the shitflinging, desk rattling once more and not again, now determined toward fun. "Something the matter? Frog in your throat?" He put it out through some serious low-tone lusciousness. There arose laughs from odd ends of the room; one pupil wasn't laughing, but only since no one saw him, nor his sky-blue cap. He popped back up in his chair; he couldn't've moved ass more than an inch, but all he hid sitting tall again was his chimp left hand. It wiped something on a chair leg, and the nearby albatross caught the only look by anyone of the soft-whiteness oozing down the leg's wood. He smirked, and if Will had seen this, he would've more than he did. Jerr held pretty much ninja-level skill at hiding J/O by this point. Rodrigo's look was to Percy, who wasn't close to happy. Rhino dude shuffled once, a self-soother which saved them all from seeing him launch up and go for that smug ape's nape.

Will enjoyed getting to him; sweetened by imagining that evident prick in lighter clothes. Like none. He could take the big galute's hole; hell, he could bust in ANY swingin' dick's back alley, from here to whim-fuck-you. Jerr shivered light through his lean spindliness, while his nerves told him just how much of Will's fifth-load-today he still felt swim on his tail's buried skin. All this happened while Garver's fingers tapped his huge damn desk. "If YOU BOYS want that to go anywhere, it isn't. I miss nothing in these four walls, understand?"

Only Rodrigo snickered.

The blubbered teach' tried to go on teaching. Will calmed, masked his heavy breaths of post-fun... He and Jerr and the bird shared knowing why. "We have the time... And the conflict, and what started it, and who won in the end. How many nations lost?" He sank over the desktop, trying to menace. He wound up lying halfway-forward, tipped by his weight's balance. He had to push off the desk to correct. He'd deny embarrassment, but for now it was his. "A-and... I mean, countries who sent in troops and didn't fight for Philip to accede."

This was the moose's cup of tea. An easy time for her to shine, listing them off like mad. "The Netherlands, Austria, Hanover's regime, England and Bavaria were premiere forces. With respective allies." She placed a sharpness on the end of it, caught up in pinache. Jerr sat just marginally stewing, wondering why she didn't go for the curt-gold and twirl a lock of hair like an abject b-

...-Garver was returned from 'furious' now, humoured duly. Not satisfied, though, as the rise of his brow told. "A respectable start. You could just say 'Hanover', it's how that kingdom was known in its time."

She must have knew this was formality, and not to internalize; but she sat herself higher, a 'well, actually'-typed poise. Resentful tones began. "My family traces back to Hanover's east, we had our own name for the mother country. Doctors who are overtaxed have added baggage, that's a fact."

Will's neck stiffened. He didn't care that she was self-important; hell, a man like him couldn't judge that. But seeing Jerr's tail slap the floor, his eyes narrow as letterhead, there were indicators. Things would not be so sweet, if there was bad blood now or at any point down their learning road. Another student piped in, left-center of the stuffy room, a sniffly white wolf. His violet eyes could bring awe and delight, though they were contacts. "Sorry but *snff* is that normal? I'm just curious, never heard that *snfffck*... before now."

He took a moment, after the second whiff; no sound but everyone saw him swallow. A handful of students winced; Faith flat-out grimaced. "Well it doesn't matter, we still do it that way, and that was gross, take a Benadryl next time." She barely split the two ideas. Her distaste of his issue AND his question converged like a cloud of flies.

Rodrigo had his own sidenote to speak. "Gross, eh? Allergies are common, I dunno how they are in the mother count-*COUGH*"... He had forged that cough, fake and loud, and where it cut off the word 'country' left VERY little meaning unknown.

Faith saw red. Garver was the only one of all these souls in the dark, either too old or too aggravated to parse the dickish slam. He went for the academic side. "Handle your social crap later, all of you, don't take cues from our gorilla." Will barely scoffed, it was sticks-and-stones to a 'made man' like him, so he slid a foot that had been sideways at seat's-leg to flat-across. Anchored even more in this place, he didn't need approval to belong; he scratched his balls in the house that forefathers built, they and their dough. Jerr paid great focus to the castle-sized bounce in the sack Will de-itched, while that spidermunk's face went flushed, but from putting his hand over two storied lips. Rodrigo's quip had Jerr in laughs that could choke a horse. The Spanish 'tross had done a great place-putter on her, and it struck paydirt with her silent murder-wishes wrote all over her $3 mascara job. Jerr'd buy that bird a Coke, or... Hell, it could always be that Rod' liked the other thing with that name, and even if Jerr didn't he could put down cash for an 8-ball to help a man party... To good ends...

The walrus could never detour enough to miss one current event: Jerr absent-mindedly stared on the bird, and a few others nearby rockin' the figures and chromosomes of dudehood. Garver incorporated it in desperate shifts to lessonville... He blared them like he'd just gone deaf and lost knowledge of volume. "Those nations paid dearly for wanting a piece of the royal bread. Poverty entrenched itself all over them, pronounced for decades after. What if YOU had no bread to break with your new friends over there, smiley?"

Jerr never even diverted his eyes, they just stuck to the group of guys like glue. His voice held trace apathy for teacher, but slight as the hump in his desk-obscured crotch. Orange curls tinily brushed his pink tool, licked at his inches while he wanted his tongue on at least five parts of six dudes in this corner, thick with high 'n' tight 'do's and square jaws and some piercings, assorted and just Enriching... All of 'em, the collective, the fly-damn-choice, as he strove to get back on track. "I'd find a way, don't worry... I get'chou about the poor s.o.b.'s... Sucks about their mess. Hope some of 'em had bread, I know I like mine like I like my clique: Puffy, and rises when heat's applied!"

It's not as if any of those he watched overlooked him, what with the teacher bending over him, now about ready to pick him up by the chin and burn those cheeks with a paddle, really light up those hairless pillows at a twink-grade vacant crack. He missed days when the state gave no shits, and order could rule... Now, the most he had power for was to look down, scowl and point at the door. And this he did in earnest.

But Jerr stood up, on his chair, and there was someone nearby to help his case; Rodrigo interlaced pleas with the chimp's.

"It's a flub, m' man! Carried away, hyped to be here, that's all," Swayed and swaggered the monkey, lithe body loose like a stretching swimmer. "You won't see more, honest as fuck!"

"Yeah leave him be, he's green and lovin' it!" Went Rodrigo. "Betcha he'll be just as up for absorbing the class, give it a college try, remember the ape saying it was coffee?"

Garver's eyes never moved that fast, ANY time before or since. "If you think that pile of FECES called Silverback has good weight with me, you're paying ten times less attention than this wadslurping waste!"

Faith giggled. Percy too. In fact a cavalcade of other students took to this, jumping on the chance to rub it in. Rodrigo bucked the trend and went through irritated notions like a slideshow, first feeling bad for the pair of fun-lovers then shocked at what he'd heard. Garver might as well have called the chimp a fruit. Rod' hankered to speak up and humble that two-ton suited sop.

But Jerr snickered, and Will, and like a balanced scale, the more they laughed the less the asshats in the room did the same. There would be no more interruption alright, after Will let loose with the moment's message. "You knew it's perilous going that close to specist. And bashing my bruh over lifestyle, well that's a free ticket to a pink slip." He scratched his chin; fingers worked their width through teak stubble, mahogany trunks of coarse manfuzz. Each slipped from combed back to strong, erect, unbent, the might of pure, expressed protein around a mouth that breathed wintergreen mints masking a skunky dawn smoke. "I'm to strike a bargain then, you gave me the chips to. We keep from slowing you down further - and he will go calm if I say, trust the guts out of that - and you show the right polish."

They had him trapped, for sure. He could've sucked a lemon so hard it turned sugary... Separate from them, though, others had no such deal struck, and Faith tapped him on the shoulder. Toward her gingerly finger he turned. She smiled her fakest. "I changed my mind, I hate you. It's gonna be a weak year if this is how you do school."

"Nah, it's how I mend the split ends when school tries to do us." He put one fist into his chest; she saw his pec valley but the attitude had sailed that ship, thus the cause in her mind for backing off, not 'won over' by that sophisticate. Will had nothing invested, save for staunchness. "Try an open view and you'd see what that means. Or go the opposite route, but I won't recommend that." Dead-level like his shoe rubber on the floor, this was a courtesy phrase. Half a step below a warning. He didn't think he'd avoid fitting the jackass mould, he'd have to be stupid-oblivious to. But being 90% reaction here, 10% plans to net bro'ships in this U, he stood defendable ground. She stared like her brain didn't know how to eject shock and slap on 'bloodthirsty fit' in its place, though in that twitching instant, firestorms lay imminent. Will gazed back at her, waiting with a smile for the burning flood.

Rodrigo clapped, twice, and then it came back to him this was still college. But another one dissented with them, the heart of a bear in the back row; a panda, so a strong stance but weak voice, empowered though unsure. He fiddled with his gold earring, in the right of the two half-moons he heard by. "Hey, y'know, ehhh... I get kinda hyped up when I'm nervous, heh... First-day jitters or whatever?" It would seem, by this bear's challenged talking pace, he had some of those himself. "I got here mega-early so I could set up in my frat, um, and I missed orientation, and if you did... If you... Uhhh, r'gonna live on-campus, I could take you, y'know, around, and stuff, and things." Chuckles wafted up around him; always someone there to prey on any weakness, and Percy led that orchestra. Redness hit the black-'n'-white cheeks, but he wasn't skittish rather than unsteady of mouth. Will cracked his toes, hearing 'I could take you', then seeing how the friendly chap shaped up. Thick neck, thick thighs. No kind of big boy was better than the kind that could be their own anchor.

Garver shocked everyone, by taking this well and not as more misfires among his young-adult lemmings; he whiffed a hand in the air underacted-ly. "That's a fine idea. While I fix our directive, go on. You're dismissed." His whiskers twitched as they itched.

Bear butt squirmed in its seat. Will's lips curled the slightest bit in; Jerr had a fine peep at the only desk in there that was angled now. Something pushed up on it... From that far a ways underneath. But panda's fidget was a dire fear, and he asked on it. "Y-you're putting us out?"

"Hah. No cause for a heart event, Willie. See, that... Charming to someone ape gave enough facts at the first question. I think today's outline would be redundant to his high hat." He softballed the slights; he wasn't trying to debase more than discourage, this was the land of casual dissent; he'd seen at least some of this many other times, other classes, and now had the bonus of his coffee kicking in to full effect. He tightened his bowtie, enjoyed the crinkle. 'Charming' in his case had meant maybe some poor sod would admire Will's swagger; Jerr thought he'd meant him, but cared zilch since he had eyes glued to the desk his best bro threatened to punch through, splinter, with only rising pressure. That dong had the desklegs twitch, the push of heartbeat through a teak tower of veined manlove, putting weaker objects through the same strum. So rigid Will's head didn't mash, but stamped real wood. Laminate came leaking up in the new divet. Jerr contemplated how much damage Will could do by picking up that desk, chucking it on the wall or body-checking it to smithereens, versus if he just picked it up and fucked it to pieces... The effect? Jerr's decadent sigh as his 'laminate' ran all down his dicklet and chimp pubes, a sea hemmed in with rust-brown reeds.

The walrus teacher wrapped up, not for all, but for the favour he was doing these. "The little monkey boy can absorb it from his other half, anyway. It doesn't take a Mensa group to see they're close." Jerr sat, hearing while diverted but thinking 'man, if you knew how right that came... Hhhh, daamn..." Garver didn't see what his ape dude did before, nor now, where something was being unclasped. Will unzipped and unleashed, and slow-tugged. Jerr held legs tight together - he'd never cross them - and wrapped his tail over them like corkwood. Garver ended his descriptors. "You're all three marked good for the day. Go on, get them oriented."

Sighs and protests showered their ears, again a team effort in this classroom. He tapped the desk, just with fingers, and the returners went quiet as dead crickets. The rest took longer but settled down too, at least before Jerr put more glad tidings through his high-gloss twink voice. "Tch'ahh we owe you big, chief! Even if I know my orientation, hahah... Won't hurt to get another crash course." His head swooped, and came back; it was hell for him to show the walrus he meant it with eye-contact, just since he couldn't also stay glued to Will's hidden delight. Thick in 'rilla's hand, long from the distending desktop down through an amazon of black forest. That chimp's mouth knew just what the pucker he sat on did too; ALL about that whopper, every branch of arterial bliss, like hot vines on a steel monument. It would take the school's best math whiz - whomever that be - to even ballpark a guess how many would get their own intro to worship...

Garver's growing glad streak hiccupped, but didn't die. He rolled eyes as deep as how mired they were in getting behind, but Jerr hopped out his seat, tagged Will on the haunch, and he knew these two were headed out, and out of his (receding) hair. For today. The moustache straightened in professor's smile; he looked down and shuffled papers, their directive. Didn't see Jerr's friendly haunch-rub on Will skew under the desk. Didn't hear the light *pop* of the desk returning to flat, for how Jerr's quick hands did his dude a solid and moved the heatsword down to comfier leanings, just straight-across-under that balsa book-and-armrest. Jerr stood between the blonde-'stached professor and a true magnum putting one 'eye' straight toward either, or both. The slithole opened on throb after throb, closed on every between. Will's teeth showed out from his lips' fold-in; awakened by the bear, helped and hid by his wingdude, open to the charms of an older, wiser chromedome... But they could spend all day with equal thoughts of chances and future run-ins.

Jerr saw Willie-bear move his legs, a little jello in their chub while he slid out. They met eyes and Jerr's hands held thumb and pointer out, 'shooting' him with handguns. He half-clutched his chest. Will snickered, while one burly arm was still and one wasn't. Not even the bird had caught onto him; Rodrigo's tickled-pink voice came up and hit its highest heights, trying to sound like an old-west maiden. "Oh land sakes, he's done shot the sheriff! Catch me, I feel a faint come ovah!" He swooned, and the reactions varied from "HAH!" to "Shut up." Neither one amounted to shit with him; Jerr looked his way, cackled and winked, gettin' into this 'tross man's style.

Garver didn't miss the unruly pipe-in though, if anything. "Rodrigo," He bellowed, and all took heed. Faith's lipstick wound up into a smile. He went on, just not where she thought or hoped. "... I believe you and Willie are both resident? You want to bow out as well?"

This, though, Rod' knew as not the same token of esteem that let the other three free. The blubberbutt had ways of convincing you your life was about to get harder. The albatross held his cringe down, and answered his own, matchless way. "I......... Shhhuuuuure! If they get lost I give 'em a boid's-eye view." A put-on Jersey accent. No one much cared.

Walrus man blinked, once, still as a fencepost elsewise. "... Fine. The campus is half a square mile, but who am I to be thinking."

Jerr's laugh put his tongue out his lips, and there it stayed while he swiveled, assisted Will for another few moments and brandished those finger pistols once more, to play-plug Rod'man right in his faked pioneer-dress. The bird stood up, looked through the top of his 'lids, and play-died like a boss. Jerr's hands may have squeezed his 'triggers', but that tail did Will the service; wrapped, squeezed and loved, every vein's place remembered, relished. The monkey sweat through a chest teeming with fur, never wilder than when he crossed both types of screwing-around, neither needing a description. But now he did the least-pleasant thing he'd had to since stepping bare toes on this property: helping Will conceal the miracle and zip back up, get decent where he could get his thick ass off the chair. The brass teeth moved sluggish. Jerr kept the sound low and sorrowful hide-job slow, reaching from behind Will, so raking massive beefstick with palm on every millimeter's progress.

Rodrigo stood himself up, or jumped back up straight, and looked to Jerr like their energy would give each other runs for their money. Competition so chill it could keep meat for weeks; write your own joke here.

They were gathering, the four strong souls headed to the door. Only one person besides brought himself to stop them. Even if it got him in trouble with the teach' Percy could give two shits. "Watch it out there, apeman. Wouldn't wanna trip over some pebbles on your hopscotch tourney."

Will stopped on a dime; swung right, like a bouncer who just heard insults for his mom. He glared, with a grin. It had been a while since the rhino felt slick at the collar; perspiring, he looked in the face of straight-on, secure butchness.

And then that square jaw gave him a hint of tongue, and from green eyes a wink. It was Oscar-worthy.

He darted up from his seat, grey skin heating up, rolling back sleeves, arms ready as all fuck to see how that bigger guy could tease if he laid on the tile bloodied.

There would be no way. And not just from how Will outweighed him by a scoffing, just-as-safe monkey's mass. Garver was the one to shut this down. "Going somewhere, rhino?"

Percy swayed a bit, never quite steadfast in his brown boots. "Yyeaahh Mr. Garver, just gotta use the john!"

Jerr, like the rest, knew the crummy put-on this was; he still did like Will and taunted hornhead's ignorance. "Why didn'tcha say, broverfull? I'll help find it, hell, if it's mellow I'll help y' get it gone too!" Mellow meaning yellow, and another reason his tongue itched ten times worse than a set of walrus whiskers. He tipped head up once toward Percy, welcoming a closed mind to an open season. He saw hellfire in the seething return, but it was calm. Metered and reserved. Nutless, even.

Garver coughed. Will looked down to his chimp, by his left arm, while Rodrigo took to his right. There would be football tryouts, a day forward yet NO sooner than his next full-blown assault on that monkey's dudehole. "Embarkin' time. Do you see the green pastures?" The phrase was washed in optimism, there being every reason for it.

He'd clutched the doorknob, almost crunched it in his face-sized palm. Jerr clapped, laughed and bumped his bro with cheek, once upper, once lower. Where he lacked all subtlety, Will made up for it; unknown to all but his bud', a goal was reached alright. The desk-cloaked O' back there had been a deep treat, and with how thick his damn jizz ropes, it might be hours before enough dripped from the underside to show the janitor his job was about to go south. For four years.

The door closed behind a quartet, joking, warm on each other in this short a time. Garver had lessons on the mind; just now, he'd broke through that clutter to really think of them on-campus. Frat life. Absorbing those clowns and their man shenanigans.

He'd badgered the panda about heart trouble, but now his chest he clutched. It was gas, certainly. It left him, and he got to his job. Percy had eyes trained like a demon on just where the primates HAD been. Faith read through her textbook, some, then leaned up, shutting it hard. They both saw no more detours, but nothing was behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So it's Willie huh?" The monkey peered out from Will's hip, behind them; Will was in center, monkey left, bird right and the panda made the 'tail' of their traipsing. "Sweet name dude, a fountain o' nice thoughts! Funny you and m' best dawg here got that close a first, heh."

The bear laughed, snorted, and his paw hid his smile in courtesy. "I dunno, unoriginal parents?"

Will walked on amused, took it in stride. His shoes pounded floortiles, and in other classes, ears sensed and heads perked, that much noise in the power. "I can buy that about mine. Jerr's in the same boat, his forebears liked the alliterative."

"Hah, yeah! Jared Joshua S. puttin' pipes to the test!~" He laughed off his own abstractness, making clear on purpose what they could see him as. When his eyes traced Rodrigo, there was reaction alright. The panda, maybe not so much. Sure he wore the earring, among all of them, but style can have its own bearing.

... This would very much be evident, when Willie talked on, still wobbly in pacing. "Good to know you, uhh, are proud about it, yeah. My girl says she likes that I, y'know, wear this gold up there... I've had guys get the wrong idea. It's not style."

Well even narration can get it wrong, apparently. Jerr's brow twitched, wanting to go on schpiels about how the idea shouldn't ever be wrong. But he respected boundaries. "Cool, man, you do what's good for ya." He walked his lanky way, while discerning what the bear hinted he wanted them to ask. "... It's not fashion, huh? Somethin' badass?"

Rodrigo chortled; not that it was funny. This chimp - after maybe a half-hour from even meeting him - entertained like no one else. Willie half-smiled, seeming even shaky with that, but not fearful. "... I guess you can say that. My uncle was Navy. Spent, well, his whole adult life out in the sea and stuff. He wore this. I only saw him, like, a few times, but he was always nice. Really interesting guy, and all. Asked him to leave me this when I was a kid, and... When he, uh, got a bad strain of pnemonia and it didn't get checked in time... It's my piece of him." Strangely there existed no dread in his telling; or maybe not so bizarre if it meant he found peace a long time ago, and took it well. Jerr saw this, and a monkey's heart soared a little, when a guy took loss like a man.

Will walked tall. Respectful of bonds, and he was fully-alright with mentions of gruff sailors. "He ever bring you souvenirs? Could be a hood ornament, a shirt, someone's hand if he was the big guns. SEAL-type."

Jerr chuckled and it trilled, embodiments of chimp joy. He patted the gorilla's forearm; mostly to feel the girth, as if it weren't seared to his memory from years of yes. But Willie shook his head, slow. "His money went into bottles. I never, well, judged him. Sea life's a bitch." It was high time to get on a nice topic. "So I got a question that, ummm, I don't think I need to ask, but... Yeah, but it... Err..."

The albatross with them had discernment, and knew where it was going. He stood in for the bumbling, cute panda. "... You guys are pretty damn gay, right?"

Classrooms all through the building wondered where the tremendous, roaring laugh came from.

Will settled down, and 'slipped back in the pocket' like a stock car racer, close on the bird, to spank the hell out that ass. The feathers were almost jumped out of. Gaydar was another thing comparable between chimp and great ape; they both knew when results would be fine. The winged one rubbed his hind, a wee smirk grew into a nervous grin, and well-received was the phrase to describe this. Will spoke over his observing it. "Fucking bingo, you're on the ball there." And damn did he already want balls-deep in that. "Known since I was barely at the age to sprout curls around this Ahhh-real-monster."

He put his hand on the grounds; soft, half a basketball that jutted out from denim over top of him, nothing but meat beneath. A gun that could grant protein so hard and fast, it peeled paint off walls. Jerr had seen, and took. Willie could guess most all of this. They neared the exit, sunlight beaming through the rectangled glass on heavy metal doors. Will wished to play more, stick his QB-hand in the shorts and whip out true majesty; but again, it would be postponed, until he knew the place better, its corners, hideaways, where he could take it out, take a bro out to 'dinner'. Instead... That hand moved in his right pocket, and out with it came a hard case. Aluminum, like a clamshell wallet, but not the right girth. Thicker, sort of in the vein of snuff cases.

Willie had a gentlemanly nod for him. "'Bacco powder, eh? I haven't seen those in years."

Here, the tall primate could tickle his own fancy even more. "You would think, right? But this compact has finer use." True to his word, when he undid the clasp, it was far from tobacco. Nor was it green, like the herb he and Jerr did buy into. Two sacks lay next to each other, made of latex. Squeezed a bit flat by the case's shape and intrusion, tied off on one end. The contents were off-white.

Anyone of college age knew it on-sight. Willie's head retreated on his neck a tad, but just a visceral 'straight dude' reaction. Rodrigo's walking kind of hiccupped like the panda's tongue tended to... His beak-jaw could have cracked the floor, hitting it. Things weren't really cranked up to 10 in complexity: Will had used rubbers, and what they held, they held fast. By the time Rodrigo's reaction shifted to "Daaaayum!", Jerr became a ball of energy, climbing all over Will's back, rubbing face on the footballer's scruff, breathing like a bitch but talking a blue bro streak. "Yehhh gimme dawg! Y'always know when to pull that, you fuckin' sense m' thirst! Fuuuck those FATass loads, musta rocked your bedsprings makin' em!!" He apparently knew just how these often-treats were coaxed out, the few times they didn't sleep curled together on damp or crusted sheets. One-handed shuffle, deluxe edition.

Will couldn't quit his happiness, taking one out the pack, untieing it. Jerr's bottomless waist went all on his back, the small of his strong spine and black-furred musclecurves. The li'l monkey's short guyhood throbbed its damndest; when that condom was done untwisting, end opened, the smell hit him. His eyes danced, pupils flared out. "Duuuude I call dibs!"

"Uh-uh. You know how this travels." Will butted cheek into his bro, playful as ever in a vital arc, careful not to spill a drop. "First the maker, then the taker." With that, he brought the untied one to mouth-height, and opened wide. It poured down his gullet, his large throat, while he squeezed from the other, 'tip' end. Like a yogurt pouch.

The swallow, and hum, were transcendant. Jerr's tail beat the fuck out of himself, kinking and crimping in crave. It whipped just next to Rod's beak, and the bird recoiled, but with guffaws. Even if it had hit him, the beak's like Percy's dumb horn, no nerves. He could watch sans-fear the monkey's meltaway into uncontrolled want. Will had gave himself his midday snack, and now worked on untying Jerr's half. Both had come out of nowhere else but that anaconda, swinging in pants where he freeballed. Jerr's nuts, bare as Garver's hairline, seemed to expand and contract, one sure sign that the product of 'Y' was just a tongue away. Will freed the open end of the second rubber; Jerr pawed at it that very second, took it in his lesser hand, and stuffed it in those lips like nectar of the gods. To him, it was nothing but.

Rodrigo licked his own yellow mouth. Willie looked away, nowhere close to sprung but amused and okay with it. They reached the doorway, and Will rammed it open with a casual shoulder, just as Jerr finished licking out every drop. He stuffed it down his shirt; the body heat from its sitting on Will's hip hit his ribcage. He cooed against 'rilla's temple, half-dude and half-boibitch. Their two new friends had the first good peek of the real him...

... Willie walked around them, getting level with Will. He looked over the quad and guided them through bullet points. "Over here, the front corner with the line of, uhhhh, I think elm trees, that's 'slip-lane'. Popular hang spot where they let you burn cigarettes. Heh, you'll eh, see lots of edgelords get together there and stunt the canopy."

Will blew air through his lips in a scoff. "So they 'slip in' and waste time?"

The response had denial, and certainty. "Nah. The spot's quiet in August, 'cuz they, like, drop these fuzzy seed pods, and when it rains and you skid on one you're taking a real..." He paused, snapped fingers to recall a word, and it clicked. "-Tumble!" He jigged his arms jokingly, hut-two-hut-two like vaudeville. They ignored the cornballness, by now seeing his knack for that. And with more to tell, he rounded out info as the sun beat down in their traipse away from all shade. Plaza-level openness was greatest where they now crossed, grey cement and patches of wiregrass in neglected cracks. "The fashionistas meet here Thursdays, right at this spot on the walk. Don't even stand near 'em when they do, unless, y'know, you want a mouthful of fake nails stuck in your teeth." That DID get a laugh from Jerr; the panda felt better, maybe a bit taller.

... Who knew, besides the gorilla, it was for more than the at-last good delivery. Jerr explained while climbing all over the big, broad bro-shoulders. "They try to clock any of us, and I make sure the next day they're shittin' their charm bracelets! Hahah, ain't got time for that bad noise! Triflin', weak-ass..." Speech faded when he wrapped his slim arms on Will; beaucoups of comfort, feeling true brawn, making him forget the queaze of weathering adamant chicks. Faith, a few minutes back, had steamed his collar... But now he'd be listening to the bear, enjoying the ape, hangin' with them and the bird. Antidotes for the double-X that always beguiled him.

Will, more open-minded, sent this topic off with a friendlier joke. "Nails in the teeth, I can take. Doc's always said my smile could use more enamel."

He grinned, having Jerr's cute-ass bro-snicker in his ear, blowing breaths in raised pitch but cool control. The chimp indulged him, enjoying that he could. "'Bout the only thing not perf' on you, homez~ Hear that, fellas?"

"We know," Rodrigo butted in with the kindest tone, "You were stuck like glue to him the sec' you walked in on Garver. I'm likin' it." He meant this many ways. The primates guessed every one correctly, and their heads lay even closer to one another. They would speak short blurbs and tidbits, about bits, and hair, and mansweat, while Willie stopped their stroll, extending an arm. Looking out, there were concrete nine-stories on flat land, some figs or ficuses, more paths with names etched into the stonework, of alumni, dedication years, so on. Three statues and a fountain. It all blended together, examples of paint-by-numbers college planning everywhere you look. It's what they all saw it as, and the bear put words to the feeling. "If there's soul here, it's not in the layout. Tell you the truth, umm, it's best to just say what's happened diff places, not overexplaining the, ehh, well..."

"Fuck out of it." Rodrigo finished for him.

"Yeah, you got it. See that stairway into the auditorium? Nahir, a beaver dude, caught his belt loop through the rail last March, you can explain to me how that even happens. It trapped him a full hour while they called the no-shit, honest-damn-medics out here. Giant, like, bandage scissors is what it wound up taking, plant or hair shears don't take out True Religion knit. The, uhh, penguin on horseback at the East end? He'd be headless right now if the rhino in there, Percy, hadn't been stopped, he had tape and a cherry bomb one day." He remembered in the classroom. "... Oh, heh, right, you eh, already met him."

"Correct." Will said pretty flat and low. "I might have to put in some face time, chip away at his shitheel streak. Call it a personal project."

Rodrigo went particularly impressed, face dipping and eyes big. "You're an anti-bully? Hah, well choice goin' champ-nuts! That clearly don't go extinct after high school, hate to say."

Will's green gaze, meantime, went slighter. A handful of motives. "Never, but you may get a shock, finding how you can break them down."

"You always could on the field." Willie said with eloquence... It seemed he talked a little more, and better diction, today, and just in the last five or ten minutes... A boon for him. "I heard you're lord of football, in your neighbourhood. An up and comer."

Jerr giggled, rubbed his cheek on Will's and rubbed other parts on the 'rilla spine, having aftertaste from their 'snack', ignoring the inner push to make jokes out of the 'up' and 'come' accused of his bro. Will himself confirmed, through one nod, loitering on the gesture like a king of old. "It was never up to question, I'm here to show who they'll be sending to the Colts in a year or two. Just paying my dues."

"Hell yeah, then!" The panda started to slap Will's back, but saw there was a spidermonkey clung to it for dear life and sweet fun. They needed to go on anyway; beyond the tall dorms, classroom midrises, bleached granite and bermudagrass, there was a highway, a wide crossing, and row houses on the other side.

The bear betrayed what those dwellings were, in one question. "You guys thought of pledging anywhere?"

Well... About those houses: literal frat-pads, and "Row houses" would be flattering, and historic. These were more 'bungalow', lined as if a regiment of vinyl-sided soldiers, small windows on the first floor and a half-one as a vent for the second, AKA the attic. Sized like the floorplan of a studio in New York. Dingy at the ground, not power-washed since Reagan was commander-in-chief. Low spots in the dirt led to dark layers on the overground tops of bricked foundations; at least the mold was outside. Not one of the twenty or so brother-houses got by without a damaged shingle, a crumbled porch step, something or other giving it 'character'.

Exactly what the simians knew it would be. Love at first sight for Jerr; he had his li'l fist in the air, pumping toward any and all of 'em. "That's a ten-four fuckin-'A, big bear! Whose dick I gotta throat to find out which ones like their dicks throated!?" He put accent on the gayest places, no embarrassment. Feeling frenzied, he climbed down a tad, put his nose at pit-level to Will, stuck it in and huffed. Coming out he was high as could fucking be, eyes lazy and heart aflutter, only musk and sweat were the drugs.

Even he wasn't ready for the answer from an albatross. "Sigma Ki." Rodrigo found himself anxious to spill. "Mine, bro."

Jerr's monkey snout turned towards him; the Spanish bird may have been cheeky, but the chimp's tail swerved in air, tongue peeked out from his open maw while it breathed once and deep-

Will said his piece. "So that's nailed down. I'll haul my stuff in tomorrow. Just the needed's. Helmet, pads, Xbox. Massage swing. Pullup bar. Drawer of plastic bananas." Their Willie-bear looked jolly, knowing his frat was down the way, Beta Mu. So none of this would touch him.

He was so sure.

Though beyond that, other things occurred to him, not as mentally-distinced from. "You guys have fun. I'll help you pack in the belongings, and things, y'know... Might help my mind away from how I know this place."

The three with him went more level, made curious. But Rod honestly beat up his own gums saying it when he figured it out. "OHH, comprendo. You're a halfback."

Will's chest blew a chuckle up his thick throat. "I've been on more than a high school team, but never heard of a halfback."

"Twice the push, eh? Ya sure you're not one, King Kong?" The bird swatted his shoulder, flattering and flirting. "Nah, though, it's for the people who either drop out, flunk out or head for the penal system, then come back next year. They're here, but spirits are broke, so only part of them's back."

Jerr covered his head with his hat, then returned it up; this was the furthest it ever gets from his scalp. "Sunny side of it, sounds like. But penal sys-"

Will detoured his detour with optimism. "I pity them, but they're not relevant. I'm out here to make something of me, and make someone who's man enough to be worth this. However many." He slapped his hip, hard as lightning; could be signaling his mass front and back, or might mean that pelvis moved like hydraulic car crash testers. This was left to the eyes of bird and chimp beholders.

Bird and bear looked over at their new pair of pals, and in no time knew the filthy days would dwarf how it had looked to start with. Will's words were honest as all fuck, about which he meant to do... So the chimp AND this brave bastard put adventure as priority. School, sure, but... Hell, anyone here would say that.

They checked the street and crossed. Third from the end, on this soulless real estate that more-resembled Communist blocs, were the Greek letters Sigma and Ki, almost shouting them in from ten yards left. Panda-boy would be going a separate way from the rest; for now, they stopped outside the curb."Will, yo," Jerr leaned in, still smelling aftershave from that morning, though the scruff filled in so fast on the footballer. "We get situated, and you and I, Guilty Gear tourney, they can watch. I told you I'll scrub you."

"Hah! I've done more scrubbing to hotdog you once than you've wiped any floor w' me." He beamed pride through pearly whites, and Jerr just barely crumbled, tongue and tail unstill. It wasn't all the time you'd hear slang or abbreved words from the QB; when you did, it meant you were put in place. Jerr's buried pink circle hungered, knowing his.

It got a meal, in the form of finger. Will sensed what his bro itched for, and bringing arm around back of that cool-talkin' fruit, substituted his ring finger for his turgid mass. Jerr's every muscle went limp. His chin fell to Will's broad black-shirted shoulder. Gorilla punched with one finger like most dude-lovers would fist. Just smooth pokes, but a digit made to hold and run balls to victory was the size of most men's zone itself. Jerr sputtered soft, low gushes from mouth-to-'rilla-ear, how he loved fingerbangin', loved everything on his Greek-god-shaming powerhouse of a chum, a damn jizz factory, and him bein' the truck that takes loads-

The panda shone bright-red, even in the shade of elms over the houses. "Heh, I, uh... Well, see you in class!" An embarrassed him swung around, good will on his face, which Rodrigo saw last. Breezes rustled leaves over them; the smell in the air wasn't foliage, but had righteous stank; seemed to them it could be swirls of brewski's spilled at the sidewalk, hot rubber on the road, a li'l of each other's scent with early fall putting heat over them and under their shirts. In the grass that spaced each dorm by a foot, there was more than one wrapper reading 'Durex'. Unkempt grounds and party vibes.

Jerr's monkeyhood coulda popped off right there with the least touch. Willie-bear was leaving them, and now they were three, more in common than before. Rodrigo stood close, and happier. Smugger. "He didn't think you missed orientation, y'know. Excuse to sail away."

"Oh we know," Will provided, with arms back together, akimbo. He leaned face back to Jerr's, mumbled an order but made it loud where their bird heard. "I'm bringing it by, your lips got company." A cryptic thought, but the spidermonkey knew his language. Will's fingering-arm unhooked itself from Jerr's asscushion, rose at the elbow to his pal's orange face. The ring finger was flaunted. It was closed over and sucked.

Rodrigo swayed, grabbed his bulge once, to adjust. "F-fuckin' hell, got him tastin' his own garden..." He started to say they should head for cover.

Will beat him to the punch. "You want to lead us by the place? I see I've got some beating to do, and not meat." Rodrigo assumed it meant sweet, hot mansex. Will had Guilty Gear in mind... At first, then both.

So the rest of the walk, albatross beak kept darting in and out of view: ahead of them, looking forth, then back. Will kept right on handfuckin' his bro. Knuckles slid up and past the craving exit, it swallowed them, time and again a hardy pace and push. Guys passed them, most cringing, glowering, insulting. Why care, they weren't about to try shit against a brick wall of a simian. At one point, a female closed in on passing them, a wombat. She'd been looking to her tablet, reading an e-book, and sensing them approach she laid eyes on them... Went startled, crossed the street 20 feet out, stayed on the other side's walk. Much as she pretended to ignore them, Jerr's little smile fanged up a bit. She could deal with it like the dudes did, it wouldn't kill her.

The Spanish bird loved each second, but had a brief stay of skeptic's-heart. "You really think that's good out here, guys? Don't want to land in jail, they don't even let you hackeysack while watchin' Wild 'n' Out. Savages."

Will's laughs were like pleasant huffs stirred together. "Nice hobby, and yeah I've thought it through. School can't touch me due to money. Flakes can't touch me from body."

Even more motive for the bird to look him up and down. "I so see it. Here's a bargain: I get you set up here, and trust me you want that, if you go shirtless in the den. Skins only." He made a gesture that can only be told as showing he'd reciprocate, and how.

This was the most he'd heard either guffaw yet. "Y' sure you don't wanna ask we breathe while you're at it?" Jerr quipped, compromised by a giant digit blowin' UP that tender canyon.

They were two doors down; a few more moments and the rug was theirs, under Rod's webbed feet. A spotted doormat, and it wasn't design, just where Four Lokos of yesteryear left stains. Rod put handfeathers in his right pocket, pulled a key and the lock clanged through disarmament.

Warm air blew over them, tepid like outside. But in Will's nostrils, ramen and PBR and Funyuns. Jerr blew wind from heated lungs across his bro's 'rilla ear. He practically grinded Will's back now, slender monkeyness on that beef like a plaster cast. Looking around Will's cheek, the jet-on-gray, he saw shit that quite frankly was just as macho as what he rode on back of.

... Table full of snacks, none of them health food. Four-guy couch in faded navy blue. A green La-Z-Boy, most of its upholstery fuzz flattened in diverse directions. Teal walls and thick shag flooring in gold and brown, hiding dinge dang-well. Pieces of a weight bench took up the far corner, unassembled, pretty useless. A brown tiki statue loomed next to the entry to the kitchen, scratched all to hell at the belly; whatever explanation there was, they may never know. There was PBR alright, an open can, three closed ones on the table with craft brews on every side like backup dancers. And next to a 'spool' between recliner and couch, where Jim Beam stood with Jack Daniels, and their buddy Bacardi. Then, empty on a wallshelf tacked up over nothing, were past-downed Jager and Schnapps, big-ass bottles, booze versions of trophies. More was there to see, but these were the straight-ahead first impressions. A flop house, a bach' pad, and the open beer wasn't on the glass like all the rest, but in a sizeable hand. Wrinkled, jade and pockmarked, it was a tortoise's, who sat there eyeing them with what looked like contempt, wearing plaid boxers. Withering, brought out of a happy-place to see new squatters under his roof.

But it belonged to him no more than any. And he tipped his beer, stood slow as leap year and removed the preconceptions he was mad... Just stonefaced. "Aloha, fuckers. You've entered Sigma fly."

Rodrigo moved in on him, leaning down to the table of brews. They were still cold, sweat on his hand as he procured one. "Don't let the can farm fool you, we're sophisticates. Some nights there's even Monopoly! Yeah, the game no one likes playing but if you don't own a board, you're a communist." Mugging just a slice for the levity - to Will more, as he'd fast picked out who'd go for this most - his leandown put him at the shellback's crotch; he wasted no time sniffing it, nosing it. There was still little reaction upstairs on the guy, but a thread-width smirk didn't hide itself. The introductions came over Rod' burping the poptop, fizz clamboring up inside. "Quentin, meet Will, and Jared. They're an add to the posse alright." The turtle knew his meaning, and honestly, so did their guests-turned-roomies.

Jerr found it rich, and acrobatically tumbled over Will's shoulders, around back of his head, coming out perched at his other temple. "Fuck! I'll be anything you want if I'm lodged in this paradise!" He'd looked rightward; saw a wall with 60 inches of LCD, wires running to no less than five platforms. Two he didn't even recognize, but were sleek as anything Sony puts out. Cabinets lined the wall, bursting at the seams with game and Blu-Ray jackets. Then a pine box like a card keeper that he knew, on-sight without a trace of info, held implements for smoke... With good chance, also the provisions. There'd be nights wealthier than days, alright; for now, he'd join in the casual kind of hang. "Yo Quent', I'll pay if ya toss me a tall boy." He put eyes to the tortoise, and not at eye-level, but where boxers alone fought the 'good' fight against all-nude. There was firm shape to this guy, no matter the amphibian skin. Jerr's voice brought more wheeze into itself. "Looks like you got the arm for it."

"Heh. Well, you put it that way, so have at it." He reached down, picked up a soon-to-be-drunk PBR and it was deftly caught, in spite of a chimp's puny mitts. Quentin tacked on an endnote. "Sip deep."

It had airs of 'more-than-drinkin'-pal'. He might have stoic ways, but felt just as much... The bird was truthful as all hell. Speaking of, Rodrigo excused himself, with more oddball flair about his talking. "You go on, get chummy. I have a ticking time bomb I'll defuse with the fridge, I'm gonna have ribs show if I don't polish off that potroast."

Will, not full himself, felt a gut growl; strong as he was all over, the vibes shook Jerr, who felt all of it although he upturned the 24-ouncer and made a third of it gone in six gulps. Will talked over his best bud's heavy belch. "There's cooks among us. Hold still, my bigass heart."

Jerr chuckled through another hard sip. Quentin doubled his own smile, seeing something lower than Will's core. "That's not a heart, Tonto." He shifted weight, and had a bit to boast about himself, getting throb-happy like the jumbo ape he ogled. "No problem seen."

Will reached on himself, manipulated his mound. Bush sprigs dragged on his waistband. The dudes self-fondled but would straightaway explore. Just prior, Rodrigo exclaimed from the kitchen en Español, but switched back to their tongue. "Holy Mary, get yourself a plate of this, it's goin' fast! Has a good, green flavour to it!"

He leaked laughs; it was an 'herbed' roast, then. Jerr's mouth was busy gettin' sloshed, his eyes were hopelessly gone mad over the tortoise bro and his own, feelin' each other out by feeling themselves, hunting by flaunting. Will swung his head over to the kitchen, source of Rod's inviting, while bringing he and Jerr closer to green muscle. "Sounds like a happy meal! I'll be there, one thing first." He was inches from Quentin... Their meat, if unleashed, would outstick the space cushion, but lay half-down from cotton keeping back and snug. Feeling one another's junk temp through air. Will spoke now to their newest padrè, to the hot eyes behind stilled face. "Tell me you're not sports-honed too, and I call you a liar."

Quentin had cool ego, stroking that bulge now, just about to reach for another's. "Your friend there's right as he is cute. Hold a Lacrosse stick long enough and it gives you an arm."

Will closed in all the way. Green pecs touched the shirt tightly holding his in. Jerr got handsy, not even buzzed but didn't have to be, following that jade bicep down every leathery curve. Will gave a final preface to learning how this dude rolled with it, drool inside his domineer maw. "About to give you more than an arm alright, cut damn cockwarmer!" Whether he meant Quentin was swole, or that his own snipped piece was gonna mince that hole below shell... Both were fact. He reached around, grabbed up the whole dude and Jerr leapt off to save getting hurt. Turtle boy was tackled onto that couch, Will's game, and the 'rilla stuck hand in those plaid drawers. An instant liking for what he found, while Jerr guzzled beer and tugged what now had become stone-hard monkeyhood, four inches of pulsing yeah-fuck-him-like-a-toy support for this.

Rodrigo walked back in, crunching Starburst wrappers underfoot. What they did, he saw and his feet stalled on, froze halfway to them. He laid down his plate, the one empty spot of the table now taken, while "Fffuck, yeahhh..." trickled out his lips. Will hadn't yet upheld his end of the topless deal, but Rod sure blazed that trail, sliding out of his shirt into a bare state of soft, guy-next-door paunch and chest meat. Like pre out Jerr's twink dink, like hot manspit in Will's mouth, sinking through lips he put on Quentin's from above him. The boxers were pulled the fuck off, and not from the feet, just ripped free. Their shreds landed on Jerr's toes; he almost shot jizz right then and there, desperate and begging with true bass for Will to rape that green athlete switch. And it was clear as crystal Quent' would be all-vers., leaning in, acting like he fought Will. For control, not safety. Playing it out to enliven ape, make him grope harder, roar in his face.

Jerr emptied his beer as Will rose up just to turn that tortoise like frying pancakes.

Chimp crushed the finished can on his head, strong enough no matter spiderchimp limbs, as Will tore off his own shirt. Unzipped. Brought out the beast from prison. Ape throat boomed revelry, his manhood swung like a nightstick, lined up to fuck Q's vigor to wet remnants. The head itself performed a miracle, getting past that fly. No wonder only men were man enough to handle.

Rodrigo flogged a real log, his choad at 5 inches with prime girth. Jerr's can dropped to the carpet; his other can, that ass meat, wobbled in each pull of his hand on self.

Will's pants lay buttoned above eight-long of pure power, and smooth, Catholic ape meat broke into a dark green player's pucker, sport against sport, like football itself fucked the dog shit out of a lighter, bourgy game.

Jerr moaned pleasure with beer breath. "Hit that, man! Yeahhh!! Rock his damn guts, fff-ffuuuck Will! Lu'hh that shit, dude!!" It was 'love' he meant, through beer goggles; he'd started feeling it, while puny nuts dangled under his hand's speed. Not even a break in stroke pace while he dipped down to the table for another beer, helped himself. Not like Quentin would object, buried under quarterback, lats sweating all down the side of shell hexagons. His boxers, or their tatters, flapped in monkey's toes, cotton that had housed his dangle. More than one day, since laundry wasn't hallowed ground in chores.

Rodrigo's scruff blew around with his gasps; a loud 'bater, he almost drowned out Jerr's cheering. Fanning on his bro, gettin' drunk and rubbing tool, watching Will show their new 'mate that from him, randy comes the fuck out. Rodrigo thanked the stars - no suffering to his yelps while shakin' his gordo tool - he'd chose right, inviting these bastards.

But if he'd knew Jerr more than an hour, no way would he think the monkey wouldn't join the frick in. Jerr guzzled his second can, chugged it without even chants around to prod him on. He pulled shirt over his cap, expertly kept it there and secure; the times he'd done that numbered thousands. His drinking hand became his nip-tweak-and-twist hand. In harsh need, he stepped and vanished around the couchback. Two seconds later he leapt atop and gave Will all the help he never had to ask for. "Plunge him bro!! What's his ass feel like, how much give!?" This while he hung on the back, naked under hat, suspended over sweating men, one making a Fleshlight out the other.

Will had thundering tones, rough, fierce and shaking the damn liquor bottles just skewering Quent' so good. "Tons' worth!! Frackin' his hard pocket! RRRfggh!! PSI on this gun!!" Blistering pace. Tough as could fucking be. Raking inner walls of this dude's hole, head the size of Jerr's fist pounding fight out of the turtle anus-first. The scar of Will's cut pulled out on the shoves, shot back in like what he'd be unloading. Soon, now, with that Lacrosser's buns tight as manpussy gets, right for such a major pipe. And all this, Rod and Jerr almost blowin' their steam on viewing, from vanilla mansex. Simple as it got. True previews for ahead.

Rod was on the cusp of dropping rich white on the carpet... The short stack of chimp was barely behind. Will's paunch pressed the small of Quint's back, his brick-wall-pecs did much more, beating on the green lats. Salt-laden moisture coated dark ape chestbuds. Pre laminated his taker's hole. Drool was dropped on the couch arm from Quent', and on him from Will, right on the neck, electrifying bliss. Will drank in every moment of the dude faux-fighting him; strong will and resilient bod, this is what made a manbitch worthy. Jerr put pre' on his bro's back fur, flung from his hard stroking, a damn sprinkler. Will got irrigated, that turtle's hole went irritated, just more to tack on the good. Jerr watched their faces, took joy in all, motivated Will and had his thick, sturdy ass pumpin' thrusts in his peripheral. "Go on bro, wreck him!! Take that bodied fucker to town! " He thought of how turtle-boy's gland got bashed, swept up so brutal. Quent's eyes stayed hid by wince, his smile thrived and exposed. Wider, getting closer. Will's ass even got a few drips from Jerr, sendin' clear dick-rain so wild it made spray patterns.

Rod couldn't take it; even seeing them fool around outside couldn't prep him for this. His lungs filled, his scrawny legs bowed. Standing over the table, gasping, basking, at least one beer would be glazed by the gobs. Will hollered at his new 'ho, calling out facts. "Yerr gonna hold my sixth nut, shellfire! Clench those cheeks, RIDE power!! FFF-fuuck your ASS, man!!! "

And to lose it after five already that day meant jack-shit, no hit to pressure or amount. Waiting this long for his sixth made it a slow day, comparatively. The bird went spastic; elbows jerked, his snow-white nuts drew up and did their dirty work. "G-gg-goddamn, drill that dude!! A-... A-aahhhhh!! " It blew, and with strength; Will's thick leg took a spurt. Albatross tossed more, veins swole and huge on every blessed shot. Beak opened from each rope, moaning joy, unbelieving how hot things went. His brood landed in lines, strung wider far from him, fanned over carpet and table wood, couch legs and Will's working gams. A beer took some for the team alright; one had its name obscured, under blasts of climax that chilled on cold metal. It was strong as some BJ's in his past, maybe not the best ones, but to even challenge some meant... 'Holy fuckin' damn, these guys...' In his loudest mental voice.

Jerr's mind was in the same space, closing in on peak. Will's green eyes stared on the dude he screwed, daring him in silence, using beef and shove to show his grey matter's topics. 'Buck harder. Take it, scaly, it's inaugural. Fall for this giant fucker like it loves your tight tunnel! Learn how my team took it, the high school roster, every damn day!...' Jerr's tongue dragged through air, so out he felt he could lap at that chiseled, rough 'rilla chin. He had on past days, more than countable. His gut heaved, skinny and drawing musty air, whiffs of hops and sweat. Smelling Will's nuts even with them sandwiched by ape bush and turtle taint. Their scent would be Quent's, on that gooch. Stamped right where his gland made a mountain. Will felt how far it bulged; just another edge to make his magnum shoot harder, and it was... Hella close... Right there... His teeth opened, through them blew the father of all earsplitting ook-roars. "-Fuckin' GULP with that ASS, BOY!!!-RR-RRRGHAHH-OO-OOO-KK-FF-FUUUCK!!!"

"SHOOOT, DOG!! U-UUP IN HIM BRAH!! " Jerr wiggled and writhed at the rear, craving to be that shelled dude but going off from voyeur. In his baby blues, all-ecstacy, watching his best bud go the fuck off the same damn time. "AAHH-HHHH!! YYEHHH!!! " White-hot batches drenched Will's back in torrents. Low, loud whines went to high monkey squeals, his face red, body humping the seatback. Orange tail whipped the plush chair so hard it functioned like memory foam. Jerr's pucker flexed, recalling thousands of the times he'd stood in for this slut before they even met. His stub of a fuck tool felt all the male bliss of jettison, lettin' it fly on his mountain of an ape friend. Will fucked harder, feeling jizz on him; stabbed the loads in with Quent' white-toe'd, bending all six foot-digits, three on each leg's end and helping him live this down. Pools of sperm under him grew to lakes, tried to seep in couch cushions, too viscous and copious. Just the sound of his abs throttling a splash under him made Jerr's nose flare on his cute damn snout; Will and he both pumped it out the same time, and after this stint of heaven, came down unified. Will's hips heaved less but harder every push. Jerr's tail swished around his neck, hugged his twink bod like he wanted Will to. The flash-flood of monkey cum now hit short of his footballer, and once it went to oozing - rolling down his 4" Jerrhood and frantic hand - Will's tool jammed in and stayed, rocked around inside Quent' while buried to the hilt; gettin' the dude wasted on burning glow. Quent's neck pitched high enough to hurt; bobbed like on the open ocean, feelin' like fire hit his chute but came with bro-love.

... Rod staggered; he came within a hair of falling forward, knees weak as could be. Eyelids parted, open to the picture of his hose-pattern, from thick dong to Will's relaxing drumstick. Leisure set in. Jerr's light self sprawled on the couchback. Will's monster settled down and locked into Quent's pucker; he wasn't moving nor leaving. Up came his right arm, and play-chucked the turtle's temple. "Feel full in your second stomach, son?"

That, combined with the word used for him, got Quentin to shiver. Looking back, mouth turned up, the ego still shone out this switch. "Dunno. Might have to try a while to know. Let's say every day."

"Mngh... Ohh-hhh... HHhell..." Rod kept the bend in his knees; looked like his peak left slow and lavish. His hand kept a tug going longest, out-and-in, while Jerr switched to squeezing his, still rigid and with gasp for every press on his tool. Fur on Jerr's balls dripped more pre' than cum, the latter didn't slide that far just yet. But he slid, down the couch, onto Will with mouth-at-scalp, chest-to-broad-back, wet shooter and globes straddling Will above the crack. He was no type of top; here, his monkey lips pressed on dark brown hair, kissed the 'rilla. "Fuckin' SO hot, G'... Looove you..." Such genuine, well-seen truth, stated cool as a cuke. Will growled half an 'ook', then his equal love back, the biggest grin on his face and in him, that athlete's heart feeling a swell. Jerr rolled right off, stood his eighty pounds strong on his feet, and chirped again as Will reached and honked his left cheek. Groped the fuck out of him, crossing 'love you back' with 'you're next'. Nothing was richer to Jerr... Only thing close was what he'd come down to partake of. The beer Rod had glazed was a closed one; Rod had wanted it, but let it go to Jerr, happy enough to see the monkey pop the top, lick the cold can and with those swimers he tongued right in, take a swig of suds. Beer and jizz, in the same gulp. He trust-fell onto Will, cap to shoulder.

Rod could've shot again. All that made him stop, and let go of himself, was foresight. These two... No way did their proclivities mean he'd survive this night undrained.

"Fuck me, bro's..." Jerr dropped these words, meant to be common expletive, still abled as a come-on. He swished more, a horse-sized swallow of mostly beer, more than half still Latin bird loads. His slim build melted back more, airtight on Will's rotator cuff, feeling heat off his hairy pit, monkey ass near where Quent's rough scales sheathed his haunch. But all in a day's need... He leered from his mouth's side, happy and slowed by hops and popping. "... Call me crazy, I'm thinkin' you still owe me to lose your shit on GG."

He was talking to Will. The brute fucker was having none of it, and mussed his hair by twisting that cap a 360. "Always living in fantasy. Well now that I broke in this hookie-perp', let's dance." He lifted up, felt Quentin try and lift too for a smidge of a second, then looked down where their cores had met. Heat wafted, cum stretched in strings and snapped free. Turtle-dude twitched as every one fell on him. He jerked joyfully more with Will unholstering, pulling out of a sick manhole. He laughed to see how it vaulted, his hung-damn tool 'fixing' back to straight up, too rock-hard to be any way else. What a prime receiver... While Jerr hopped and half-skipped to the consoles, secured the PS2 and turned to wait, Will predicted he'd spend half the playing-time with it not going down. And he dived his heavy self down, fished around in his trousers on the floor, found the square bulge in the pocket and fetched it out, knowing if it didn't go down, it'd only be that Jerr went on a losing streak, neglecting a controller just to have one hand on the hot steel tower. They did come prepared; of all the things brought on the first day, this beat-'em-up was indispensible. "Quick hands, quickie toy!" It sailed through the air and Jerr caught, in spite of groan and tail-bend for being called out again.

Rodrigo thought of anything to end horniness: rusted wheels, sewers, his eyebrow-less aunt. Through this he could speak rational... Or as much that as he got. "Man, if you do... Well, never mind. I was about to say somethin' stupid, so I didn't." He cleared his throat needlessly, just distracting. "Guess Quentin has to lay low. You chafed over there, gorgeous?"

Jerr smiled on him and his smile for Quent'... They had their own history, it looked like. The PS2 had the only corded joypads, and these he unwound, seeing Quent raise up and nod his meekest. The chimp vocalized. "Dude's been done in, for real! All good, I know the struggle. Drink water when you get up, then chug another tall boy!" He blew chuckles, and the rest shared them. "Bet you're glad you were like Will said, hookie like we three G's!"

Rod noticed how easy the turtle got amused; not what he was accustomed to. Quentin shook his head, a little closer to his average, detached. "Nope. My one class is Fridays. Here to finish out computer science." Not spoken but understood: the house was a perk.

Will knew on-instant what this meant, and he liked what he knew. "Hah! Had to be that those crow's feet aren't just products of skin type."

He winked at the older man. Quentin half-smirked, but wrinkled his nose more, a play off the species-slighting. "I didn't hear that. Hey after you smear the cutie there, I'll have a go." He leaned up at the midriff, rubbed his rump, glanced back on it and let a sigh that was so wealthy with filth and love for the creampie Will left you'd swear it was evil. Nothing even close to that, though; his fucked self manoevered over, to the Jim Beam, careful not to sit straight down. Half on his side, he turned it up and took swigs like they were what Will injected, not what party artisans distilled. Rodrigo set himself down, Indian-style, on Jerr's left and Will's right, enclosed. The ape put three hundred pounds of self on his butt, and shook his head amused. "A well-supplied place, and you guys don't have video chairs. For shame."

Rod leaned toward him just to be close while answering. "Then I guess a trip to Pier 1's an idea? I mean I'll have to check my upper limit, can't go splurging on things you can't take into you." They all got his meaning.

Will was unfazed, and for good cause. "Nah, I can take that on. Have a platinum card and Dad's bank under my belt. You just stand back and view the cha-chings." He'd taken his controller from Jerr, who felt the big thumb close over his third-sized one on the uptake, and tingled.

Quent's chortle was lazy and soused. "Houston, we have an alpha. Every which way."

"So you're where on the age ticker, hardgut?" Jerr asked, sharing Will's pleasant bias and the turtle's beer goggles. Maybe not the liquor goggles. Yet.

"Nosy, huh. Twenty-eight. Since a month back. You two look the part, I'm talkin' the average age here, straight out of hell school... Oh I'm sorry, high."

Rodrigo cackled less like albatross than chicken. It endured, then he cut it short. "An-... And I'm the middle ground. Twenty-four in August. Got a late start, my little sister needed help raising. If I never see Ni-Hao Kai Lan or Dora again, I'll die in happy feathers. Unless I get like, drawn and quartered in an opera house. That's different."

Jerr had to spell out his opinion here, and the beer either helped or hurt depending on one's views. "You not have parents around? Or were you one o' those who got shouldered with it like you were who chose to get knocked up?"

Will grabbed Jerr's arm, at first like he would scold, in actuality groping. Even the littlest guy had fair muscle. Will polished out the atmosphere. "Don't mind his principles. We respect sticking by to help." He spoke for Jerr but wasn't errant.

"Yeah, ditto on that." Jerr kept tone on a high note... To help this, he met Will's grabbing-arm and ran his tongue up the girth. And the gorilla knew his shit... While they went through menus, geared up to fight, Jerr was one-handed on the controller alright. That eight-inch throbber Will put out, stark naked, had to have a handy, in Jerr's mind for only existing.

"Mmmm," Quentin damn-well approved, shifting on the couch while his tool went to stand, but made it halfway this time thanks to rum. He saw Rod's head dip, and a certain look in those eyes. "Any case, he was selfless about it. Hear, hear. Rod, want a nip or two?"

The bird looked back, saw Q' menace with the bottle, and politely turned it down. Jerr heard 'nip' and planned to enjoy later, whiskey AND Will's areolas flanked by mahogany fur curls. Moded now for action, since the opening sting of Round 1 hit their ears. Jerr sat with his beer, relented his stroking Will just soon enough to have both hands on when the fight was a go.

Round 1. Will nails his bud's character with a hard right, draws first blood. A quick "damn!" from the monkey, but he recovers and jumps into the air, his shadow over bricks on the graphical city, and comes down by a sharp kick. Quent' upturns his bottle and reels in silence as they blast away on each other, pulling special after special. "Shit, it's anyone's match." His tongue feels numb, same as his ass; the first for a heavy binge, and some hunger, for that ape bastard who nailed him, tamed the inner grounds.

Will blocks a heavy punch, answers with his own, and Jerr's buttons clack in his fail at defense. "Really!? Cold, cowboy! I'm on it, watch the feet spark, watch now!" He showboated, his little hands crazed and skilled; a hurricane of kicks swept Will, no mercy. From 3/4 health down to one, it was looking rocky for the stud fucker.

"Oh geez! " Rodrigo yelled and clasped his own cheeks in overdrama. "You gotta deflect! Jump back, Will, plan it!" He leaned forth, resting handfeathers on spindly knees, stomach folding in slight lines close to navel-height. "Rock him when it's open!"

The 'rilla smarted off, chuckles with sour edge. "Thanks for the primer, I'll retcon and use that 4 years back when I was new-" He put a *wham* over Jerr's dude's head, and the move drained him to a fourth-left. One hard hit more, by either, and there'd be victory. Rod had stood back straight, but drifted a bit, loose and buzzed. Nothing like Quent', who held a fist out, punched air as his drunk mind felt the action on the screen. Nor like Jerr, swaying now, holding his own but backed more and more off by Will's flurry, arms and legs in exchange, like a one-man tag-team. The chimp's avatar found himself left-cornered, fists deflecting but in do-or-die placement.

Quentin finished his bottle; it was fine, he'd only had the last two-thirds today. Rod had moved to the bureau, where there sat movies, more titles for the Sony machine, and the obvious box. Bird boy commentated more and scratched his underbeak scruff. "Hey before we forget, or get busy again, I can help you and Willie with your shit tomorrow too." He didn't emphasize 'busy', but Jerr sniggered in high monkey-trill, it was therefore read loud and clear. In his mind the gay-ass chimp had already guessed a ton, over his hosts: 'Rod's down to bust load after load and still give up plenty. Quent's gotta be a power fuck when he's top and in the zone. Rod's gonna jones for Will. Yeh... Totes he'll be on that like me, better not need to scrap w' him over sittin' rights~'

Will involved himself, knowing he was who Rodrigo directed an offer to, still keeping back his bro's onscreen assaults. "I meant to tell him I won't need him, and you neither. No offense, just convenience, Dad's sending help to bring it all out." He socked Jerr's character straight in the teeth; the screen slowed, a K.O. was reached. "Temp movers." Jerr's hands scraped the carpet knuckles-down, exasperated but in laughs. Will beat his nude chest; showboating, and now all his dude could think was enjoying, not a taste of regret in him. Jerr's eyes lolled with alcohol behind them but the standing obelisk of Will's front-and-low. It never laid low to rest; unclothed next to Jerr, it was there for more. The monkey leaned-slash-fell on his own right arm and haunch, reaching that thick meat, instantly in warm sigh and soft chimp screech of need when his hand closed over most of it; unable to wrap all that circumference. "Gonna get revenge... Ffffuck... I mean watch yerr back next time, Will... Bro... Fuckin' rock your boy on there..." He talked of giving back a beatdown on Will's fighter, while with fat dick in his hand. After bringing his other arm to play, hands. They stroked up and past that soft scar on steel bone, more than adequate room to double-fist his guy-wrecking bro. Will's lower lip went behind his teeth, bit soft but thrusting up in Jerr's hands hard. The head outgrew and outshined palms getting glazed with pre. Then wet down... Then swamped with it.

Rodrigo lapped his beak's outer rim, tongue right-to-left, watching Jerr fall over himself to serve his winner bud. "That's the damn ticket, hah... Pay his manhood for the gun show!!" He named how an arm-blow had dealt the killing impact in the game; it betrayed a bit of weakness for large arms, his greater kink; just seeing Will's real-life girth at the forearms made his tool need some hand-tossing. It rose up, but he went for the box instead, for now. "The RIGHT kind, no hicks or jangoized walkin' risks in this conference." He just stated, and would have had more shout volume, but a heady joke like that normally begat audible thuds and crickets, so he parted from gung-ho for a second...

... Will appreciated, though, whether hot to all by Jerr's nimble hands or not. "No checking my background, either. And that's besides saying this ass is mine and off the table." He clenched, right at the cheeks; they put him two inches taller sitting, those fat damn buns, hiding a top's hole, pristine, untook. You could fry bacon in the heat off it.

"Well speakin' of losing your shit, ever had Guyanan Gold?" Rodrigo had added glee now, yanking what Ziploc baggie lived inside that box right out. Aroma hit him like a freight train, tinted green... Jerr got the waft too, no amount of drinking cut off what this was. His nose flared, snout tweaked, though his tongue swooped and lost droplets just from wanting spit all down Will's pipe, seconds from turning handjob into deep, loving blow.

Rod' bragged on the batch of smoke like that strain could cure the common cold. "There's veg-and-stare-for-hours-at-court-shows high, and then there's I'm-gonna-get-dreads-and-paint-flowers-made-of-dogs high." He pitched the bag, extracting just enough to roll a heavy doob'. "Guess which I'm connected with."

Will smiled even wider, allied with any man-bent chap who lived by high-octane hemp. "If you can roll it by the time I smear him into pixel dirt in Round 2, bonus round on your crack, birdman." He leered at the shirtless Latin core; even the buds that lay in soft average build were eye candy, purple to his pink, erect to his stiff as hell and sweaty. Jerr flung his lips over bro meat, and the gutteral whine, in low, male yearn, got him needing release and to test that avian... It would happen, before he rasped his first snore overnight here.

Rodrigo's knees knocked. He started a game with himself: wrap and lick it fast as possible, but keep it straight, true and open where good hits came easy. Quentin slurred a "Yehh" when the music sting came up, and Will started Round 2. Without Jerr, who kept busy on that dick, cursed Will's name in muffled complaints, muzzled by the sweaty, thick prize he gobbled to the ballskin. He was forced into talent, reaching for the controller with his feet, failing that, then rolling that tail down to it, wrapping it, bringing up with success and speed. Where the feet made mistakes, the orange-fuzzed cord from his ass never fucked up. And two could play Will's game of distraction cheats... Now playing, he kept suckling, just a bit better at multi-tasking while sucking rigid length than Will was at owning the fight while taking ten-star worship by thirsty twink-bro mouth pillows.

Rodrigo had to turn away and miss the second brawl; no way to race against time, do it well and view this hella-hot scene made real before him. Most of the way done, his '1.5' papers crinkled as they tumbled, binding sprigs of green inside. "Got your own hired butlers for moving in, too. Man that's crazy, I swear, I could still help direct them if you wanna be total hands-off, I used to work for movers." He just wanted to help, contribute, his friendly ways mixed with drive towards making these dudes' life and times easy. In a word, infatuated. Quentin may just have been too occupied with forgetting his own name, and scratching his ass, tickled by the reservoir of seed escaping his butt cleave, flow by flow. This was part of why his johnson reached high: a feel and images too fresh to drink away. The hand that raked his dank crack moved up to where ELSE cotton had basted all day, area smells all in his palm scale nooks and crevice highways. Starting a shitfaced, stench-ridden tug, watching Will incite his own case for belonging here.

Will just brushed it off, pulverizing Jerr in the strongest combo yet, but starting from his frienemy's full health so it just got things cooking. Eight inches of fuck rifle parked in Jerr's gob and throat, came out and pulled right back in that station. Will talked and took service, making it two who multi-tasked in this peen palace. "Thanks, but that's in the bag too. I memorized the map... Nnghyehhh... Before I stepped foot on campus." He lived by preparedness, plus many things else; bush curls, dark as a cave, dabbed Jerr like a Brillo pad, but with musk where soap belonged. And NO suds could wash out Jerr's mouth; As Rod finished out constructing his joint, and stooped down, he would let that filthy, cute, gifted eater take first drag. It was so hard not to reach under Jerr's slender neck, chest and its lagoon of spit and precum, and toy with those footballer jewels. He might be the bird but Will brought the eggs, young, sprung and full of... Plenty more than muscle memory, what he used to beat Jerr between the flurries where his li'l sucker proved manful and good by launching barrages back. It can't be understated; Jerr played with eyes AWAY from screen, staring up Will's core, pecs and their cove down the forested trail to high pubes over hybrid abs-and-gut. Directions were reversed to him; the tongue engulfed Will's pulsing dick, gums held in pools of pre, he still held his own, smashing gamefaces back and forth while Will mashed his damn throat.

The couch creaked while Quentin cranked. It was HIS ass that monkey tasted with the tool, he knew. His green dong went high, chasing release with simian buds showing pornworthy fuel. Rod clutched his own guyhood in one hand, more hiding it, while his other slipped the joint under Jerr's nose, the thiiiin stubble that grew on that bottom's 'stache line. Mini-whiskers, barely dry with all the colorless love leaking in a piehole beneath, whiffed it like an old man would a Cuban cigar. This stogey lay unburnt, white as snow or the protein he worked for... Rod brought it back, saw Jerr's eyes follow it in listless want, before they locked back on Will and the bush above shroomtown. There was a purple lighter next to the box; it was obtained, struck, utilized. The tip glowed red, cindered; trails of smoke went up, and Will's tip filled his bro to cheek-distention. Quentin muttered "H'll yessh!!", slurring worse each exclamation... Soon he'd be at lay-back-and-pass-out-gently-level tanked, but he'd milk every bit before blacking out. Experience taught him, but who could say the last time he'd seen two dudes so close and good on each other that whiskey-dick had took a day off like this.

Rod' ensured the joint's burn was uniform, stable, before lowering it. Will was on the edge, fidgets in his hip-thrust and just a hiccup in button execution now and then, giant schlong about to fill Jerr's world with stomachfuls, yet again. Jerr got Will back even more for starting Round 2 like he had, pulling the hardest trick possible for him; slipping off an unfinished pole, to take a puff. He drew it fast, used one hand to rub Will and one to scrape pre from his chin fur, draw on the joint at where it burned, prevent it hotboxing. Agile didn't start to tell the tale of those fingers, doctoring the spliff's burn where he could take two lungs' full in a third the time, and get back to his meal. He held it in, sank back on Will's throbbing wand, played the fight essentially blindfolded... Quentin's mouth gaped, watching a focused monkey shame speedrunners with this adroit load of tricks.

It was loads he sought, alright, lips flushed in the vacuum-seal on his bro's trophy, familiar with that dark cap, the build of girthy stem, straight-edged scar that made up the ghost of Will's foreskin. He didn't need that hood to out-and-out rule over other guys, if anything it made head that much easier, just a straight path up and down that sensitive giant. He and Jerr traded digital leg sweeps, grapples, Jerr landed a throw that put him in the wall. They faced off with a shred of HP each... It was sudden death, Will's huge cock tipped at the edge, slowly, power-filled, over the edge, and as Jerr broke his guard and landed the last kick, the match-ender, tieing up the war...

... Will's chest clenched, measured twice its norm as beef went rock-hard with flex, veins layered and branched out fanning over round mountains. His gut went all-abs, strong fat sucked in. "FFFFUUCK YOU SIDEKICK, HHAHHH-HH!! " He lost the game battle, won the war on Jerr's uvula. They made armistice in Guilty Gear; their truce, now that Jerr crawled on shallow belly, ears at those scorching legs getting jailed in by muscle from gorilla, wild in shooting, chomping his black lip, losing batch seven of the day. Still behind his average day's curve.

Jerr held in the smoke through half this sweet, dynamite letoff. Ropes slammed his throat and high neck within. He finally let go of the toke through nostrils; smoke billowed in slow loss like a dragon. The feel swept over him, mixed with drunken mind and gay work, crossfaded while he lived as Will's Tenga sleeve. Quentin blended cheers for Jerr with shouted ogles, worship for Will's big damn self, a party 'woo! ' he had a tenuous control on... They were word soup, but it just heightened the air of joy. His arms went expanded, went turgid, held in pose that helped amplify his coming shot counter. Rodrigo sucked air through the masterful joint, getting a bomb-ass toke, then holding it with needy eyes on Will's crotch, knowing he'd won his game and would be blessed down with what Will vowed. He looked the type to honour oral contracts, after all... Will's hand caught his wandering gaze by surprise, plucked the joint away and hit that shit after quakes of growl and haughty cannonfire. Weed smoke went in, held for a strong minute; Will yelled in a tone below a cello's rock-bottom to exhale. He'd kept his own roar under lock-and-key just to respect the hit, I.E. preserve it.

Quentin nearly fell from the couch, leaned out and close to burping the worm inebriated. Gobs trucked down Jerr's throat, a cream convoy, to digestion. He was soaring, bent all down his slim bod, taking jackhammers from his ape dude pouring cum in a pressure-wash. You could feel sorry for Jerr's tonsils, takin' a beating, day in and out... If they weren't part of him, naturally. Another part, the four-inch utopia, he cradled in furred palm; so one hand worked it and made the most of bliss from serving this stud, this massive guy, joined to his hip by some's opinions, and one still had prospects on the game. He navigated menus with his back to them, his lips down hard speeding beefstick, snout muzzled by short 'n' curlies, and queued a replay. Will's ook-heavy growls of climax took on a cheeky smirk and "Tch! " mixed in with the bottle-rattling bass. Truly, he felt about it how Jerr meant him to. "Fuuuck you, and your li'l ass! Still just tied, so nice try!! RRrrfngh-hh!!" Seed surged down the twink bro's throat, protein just clamored to run its hot river down his drool-paved causeway. He was shoved down at the cap's crest by the room's biggest hand; fuck, maybe even the campus's. Hellacious power joined him to that whopper, its throbs.

Monkey magic worked that well-loved pipe. Will shot his balls goddamn dry, in this state for at least the few minutes following. They'd waste no time nor drop refilling. The replay still went, of Jerr's half of two victories; Will closed his left hand on the controller and ended it, to a warm, squeaky cuss from Jerr they couldn't perceive, too much spit and manjuice clogging it. Jerr flogged his log, twisted up his tail and let it fly; steaming ropes hit the carpet, and over dried flecks - many, many loads from before they'd even walked in this place and doomed it beautifully - they'd have great company, soaking, in a way becoming part of the house. Quent' couldn't take it anymore; he controlled his dong, edged in spite of a mind pickled tonight, but this all changed when Jerr's cheeks rolled and twerked like Fire Island's top slut, just to fire one from column-A. Gossip by accident of how deep he got fucked, over and fucking over.

The turtle put his washboard in a white bath, tired grunts droning and extended like a nicer air horn... the creek of 'boys' stuck in every cranny, filled the network of wrinkles and leather crease. Dry riverbeds of scale became wadis, rich cumslides. He picked at it with claws, tasted while he laughed with slurred struggle. The room spun, but he weathered it fine; Rodrigo's head was clearer, the one to think with and the one in his feathered mitt again, whipped close to as hard as what Will did to a bro's gullet. His moment lasted, endured, and with grace eased slow and out. Jerr's lips sank forward away from the ape, pulling glorious length, on serious suck 'til the millisecond lips broke the seal at the slithole. It leaked white and clear, pre'ing more already by the time Jerr could let go. Sweet blue eyes beamed hot, musky love up to Will, from a chimp's seat on his knees. Jerr's heart danced in that cerulean, but it didn't hurt the motives that where he sat, black nuts and jizz-flecked footballer bush were closer than that chiseled 'rilla's junior-beard.

And of close? Rodrigo was all too much a player. His paunch waffled, undulated, with volleys of his thick release, another magazine of white expended. Closer to the new boys than Quent' by leaps and bounds, he aimed high; Jerr's leg, the side of his well-explored ass, side of his ribcage, then just under his fucking bill, the forehead, they all took tribute. That by Jerr's brow trickled down, and once close enough to lick and taste, it was gone. Drank down and sighed for, in his first act pulling off of Will's dick, still running tongue laps up 8, polishing, recalling the shape, muscle memory imprinted on mouth and reinforced.

"Jeerrrr..." The word just streamed from Rod's beak, and Will's grin up to him was more knowing than ever... Every guy to be with Jerr remembered when he first had that name just melt out of him.

Jerr's smack and solo lick, the intensive spit-shine, told of the taste he made deadly-damn-sure to relish. Nets of pearled goodness swirled his gums' every reservoir. "Mmnkh-mmm! Duuude nice, that's coconut I'm pickin' up, eh? " He couldn't pull off friendly-manly-need any better, inquiring to Rod.

The bird laughed with bobbly nods, the jig was up. "Bingo. They had coconut shrimp at Dave's on special." He breathed heavy, interred in glow, compromised; they all shared it, gladly as fuck. "Oh, that's a cool lunch spot... I'll take you dudes up and cover a meal sometime, just after we're all... Comfy..." He meant about moving them in, but he had snickers, whose slow breathy pace slowed further and whisked together. He'd be a fool not to see the joke buried there. His hand cranked less and less, and it was to his quills that the later shots stuck. He'd give Jerr a minute; no proper road to be impatient, if he knew that monkey would just find his way to licking it spotless and soon.

The chimp fell back, a soldier whose job took him home. Will's chest losing cleavage when he breathed buckets' worth of air, then regaining it when air left him full of bliss-by-proxy... Rod's untoned regions, just the way God made 'em, splashed with loads that didn't line up with him, and ecstacy at fault... Quentin just starting to snore, passed out cold, handling his liquor but overcome by letting go of a quart's-weight burden, now sopping-wet with it... Heaven would be a step down. The spidermonkey leaned low, touched his head to Will's junk, the bridge of pole and sack on his T-zone... Thanking the cock gods for this day, swearing to remember always this first night.

... And then his dirty ass got creative.

Will was grinning off his latest favor, Jerr's head, so he could be forgiven for not putting much stock in Jerr's hand reaching out for the pants Will'd slipped out of. The li'l fruit had rummaged before, for his phone to play Mobile Strike, or for a deck of cards when they're out and bored, a vibe cockring for the same reason, that sort of thing. Will had a prankster-streak though, and being off to State U now, one thing he brought and meant for them to share... He should expect it'd wind up in Jerr's paw one way or another. Out of the jeans pocket - decoupled earlier from its red and yellow box - a Snap 'n' Pop was clutched, hidden due to Will not paying heed to that action. Its cottony tail stuck between Jerr's fingers; the 'bulb' of gun powder in his wee palm. Will looked on Jerr's hat, his cute-ass face half-in-view below, and then Jerr looked out to the door, the window next to it, and put on his greatest acting job. "Holy shit, Will get DOWN!! "

He sounded frantic; his wrist deftly latched his hand on Will's kneecap, by first flinging something sidewise. It hit the moulding under the panelglass; the shockwave stung the wall, hit their ears with loud report. Rodrigo jumped back, Quentin's right eye drifted awake, but Will, thinking just what the chimp wanted him to, went stern and crucial, dropped a serious tackle on Jerr and held him down. Jerr choked as he hit the ground, but fine. The worst pain to happen was this; the best thing was Will's beef, on him like a lead blanket, sheltering from gunfire.

Only there was no gun. No real one, anyway, as nothing else came on like the first 'bullet'. As the 'rilla dragged soda-bottle-chub on Jerr's crack, coming up, not hearing anymore, he thought of the pocket, and the sitch added up faster than thought could shape it. He was back upright, and Jerr was in hysterics, guffawing his pert fuzzy ass off. Will looked ready to bust some heads, and Rod's eyes rolled in his head, getting the joke himself. Quentin's eye was already back closed; this man was hammered, and sleep would be invariable for ten straight hours.

So he slept through Will falling back on Jerr, pinning him. Squeezing with his pecs, trapping Jerr's chest in a bulldozer of might. "You like that, huh? Treat yourself to my fear, over you, that's good, right li'l 'tard?"

Jerr's bod, soft in Will's mad grip, and putty in it. Even gettin' his bro angry just brought down the warm curtain, and the force he could take, sure as fuck male enough to have resilient bones. His thirsting, happy face he shoved up in Will's; their breath swirled. He was pitched to say something; Will released him, though, and leaned up. Oddly complacent after that, and Jerr centered his eyes low, on the moist trunk of length, so he had nothing in words either. Will's jade green stare was his problem, however... Wide, then narrowed, nothing else could have sent the air of 'Just wait, buddy' so distinct and succinct. The slightest goosebumps crawled up Jerr's neck, standing his fur. All excitement; how would this built jerk fuckin' steal back penance, he couldn't guess. And might just regret, passively in the hottest, aching realms.

There was one thing Will's ire, nor his pending revenge, could stop; Jerr got up off his tired drunkish ass, and found Will's lap; faced it and the fucker's stomach, and fell gentle on it. His tongue swept chest hair. Nose dabbed the crease of Will's arm, offhand breaths from it. The tall, hung alpha, in his bro's love, wrapped his arms and held that butch boi, his best, closest cum dumpster, in pit and affectionate, power and filth's push all through his arms. Nothing got Jerr held and cuddled without being a shop-vac for those loads... Conversely nothing got spilled, shot off, swallowed, without full regard and embracing their sweet tough bond. Rod watched Jerr look up at his heaven, the dude he shared day and night with, and was touched.

... By Jerr's tail. The thing put his beak into groan and whine, wrapping his 'chicken' and choking. Jerr's snout pressed on his main man beneath pectorals and gave a new cuz a tailjob. Life was pretty damn good, all told.

It happened to be that there came prattle from the couch. Two eyes were open, both impossibly slight. Somehow or another the shellback woke again, the 0.34 blood alcohol be damned. "Seems... Yeww got work to do, a lot, J-... J'crew. Surrogate slut, hahh-hhaha..." The laugh expired, and his consciousness died with it, back to dreamless, foggy drunksleep. Ten hours for real this time.

Jerr was ready for this. Not like it hadn't been thrown at him before, that true accusation. He leaned out just barely from Will, modest distance from cut, practiced body girth he'd felt for years over him, and put it all into logic he seemed to giftwrap for new pals and their spigots. Quentin might miss it but Rodrigo had him loud and clear. He was high and half-sloshed; his delighted face gleamed from the XY around plus inside of him. "I'm so down wit' that. All it takes to get why is the facts, man! Look at what we can be and have! Rings of thick-ass bristle, around cocks, around the mouths you shove yerrs in, they call beards. Hah!... Cool stances, calm joes, slow smiles that just show you when a man's fine and IN control. Got it all on-track, got you where he wants you... Then 'bout how a gut don't ruin a man, but skinny or slender's choice, hell you can't go wrong w' type, we all run right 'n' hard! And the click o' big heels from boots, the sound of belt buckles gettin' undone... Zippers opened... And a guy's voice fills a fuckin' room. Echoes, dawg. We got a fellowship, also, swappin' paint tips at a Lowe's, granddads cheerin' young players from stands on game day, car and racin' talk in pool halls, straight dudes braggin' what their dick did last night to 'this bitch', still makin' it about the cannon, helllyeh! Men get crazy-good older, too. For so long we ain't prune up, but add depth to handsome! And action flicks kick ass, and fuckin' sports get it riled up, like the best o' war every night!"

Will chuckled, low tones jolly and barraging Jerr's ear when he pounced and rubbed his naked bro like a magic 8-ball, up the stomach, string-bean arms glossed with Rod's yogurt, and a rapid rub to the gooch... Doing oodles more than to glance off it, and then some. Jizz from more than one sausage smeared on all of Jerr, a greased pig of a monkey. Will's glad-ass pile of muscle had him in a soft wrestling pin. He fought none of the contact-poselock; he'd gave out a fraction of his vocal props for the male set; he stuck out the rest with shaking diction, so stimulated at the split of his legs.

"Our drinks put hair on our chest, oh an' by the way, we get man fur on our fuckin' chests!! 'N' we get patches o' jungle, right where smells are Grade A, nah fuck that, double-S! Then smells like fresh cut lawns, gasoline, Old Spice, cigars, axle grease, the shit it adds when musk and male odors slip right in! Fuckin' cowboys, yo, and cop uniforms, truckers, train workers, roles-to-glory all damn where. An' there's bulgespottin', like pickin' out birds by call, these by curve 'n' weight. Swim trunks on a beach that still got body to 'em, from what's whippin' and stirrin' behind! The way a dude's crack spills out his pants and drawers, plumbers or B-boys or big ol' hicks, they all get decolletage, hah, though if I tell the truth it's Will who spots that more and locks on, haha!"

Will snarled, his smile just another white and salty piece of ambience. He drummed Jerr's shoulders, played bongos on them, smile unbreaking. Rod put face in his hands, playfully mocking shame. Jerr chuckled and held on his 'rilla bro's underside, a cab on a dank, hung zeppelin. The reasons kept coming.

"Think o' how you feel when a guy lobs you a tight joke an' you don't know each other. Or his shadow comes to a pisser in the men's room while y' there wizzin' beer out. Or when he's in a tailored suit, just mad-perf' dandy bein' trot out there, and he shakes your hand. Strong, lively. I mean daaawwwwg..." He touched face to Will's chest muff. The curls crept up his small nostrils. He whined with glee in a dude's cadence, he was goddang fuckin' gay, and nothing made him happier next to doing things about it.

Rod challenged this though, with what next he had to say: "Ffff-*snrk*-damn, can I get that on a plaque? I'll buy. Omar's gonna love you, he's comin' tomorrow. Old flame-turned-friend, he's cool as Hell, Michigan. Just don't leave out any shortbread snacks, if you value their life." His dopey smile was bad jokes, relief in the loins and clouds of herb, joined up. The cloud had filled the house alright. He passed the spliff to Will, and spat green haze like a smokestack through words of and at peace. "Our big, happy, big, danglin' family, get it bumpin'!"

It was sheer catchphrase, that ender. They all esteemed the gist of it. Jerr was a puddle of orange under Will, in love and in puddles of their own, all four. Man, the next 24 hours... Moving in proper, getting Will on the field, meeting the last wedge in this pie chart of frat life, hot garbage on legs and over nuts. Jerr curled up, getting every part of him closer to Will, soles of his smooth feet on the ape fur of tall black calves. A hand the size of Borneo plucked the joint from Will's own lips; he slipped it under himself to Jerr's chops, felt the pull of a toke, brought it back out when the air-yank quit, now Rod' was given it back. Two more rounds, it was cashed. And four more hours they all sat up, the barest of duds and barebones chat by the dudes, killing beer after beer slowly, getting all the 'close' they could forge in a night's time. The albatross shaped up to be more than simple roomie; to him, the twosome were above mere 'allies' by leagues.

Quent's blackout-self lay in their circle the same. He'd awake and take his hangover like a veteran. Collectively, they doomed this house to a future of Pringles, all-night FPS sessions, rum and popcorn and couch farts and mansex and paint wars and beer and Combos and more cock than you can take a stick at. And... The new two still hadn't pledged. Or begun to.

They'd go through towels faster than twelve-packs.

To be continued...