I spent all day Sunday studying, trying to pretend the previous day had been a dream so I could focus on algebra and history. I'd always felt non-committal towards math, but now... it's needed for science and science is important at the Academy. I needed to give it my best effort. All my school subjects had taken on renewed importance: my grades would help determine my admission to the Academy.
I felt better after school Monday — I was sure I'd had done well on the tests. During lunch I'd gotten permission to take a "college visitation day" on Tuesday. I had an honest excuse for missing school, though I admitted to myself that I would take advantage of the time in a few ways not covered by the excuse.
On the way home from school I picked up some styling gel from the drugstore. I brushed a little into my headfur and arranged it an upswept look, similar to what Marshall had shown me. I looked in the mirror; I looked good!
Tuesday morning I was at the shopping mall the minute it opened. I went into the anchor department store, stopped by the hair salon, and looked through their flip-book of styles until I found one that most closely approximated the one Marshall had described. I looked in the mirror when the stylist had finished — it looked just the way I had imagined it! The stylist said it looked just right for me. I got care instructions to keep it looking that way.
Clothing next. The clerk in the teens section was, again, very helpful, eager for the chance to begin building a wardrobe almost from scratch — especially after he saw my platinum credit card. I bought several outfits — including one with a dark beige shirt and matching slacks, for Bailey's hanging, the cut and bland color chosen so as not to distract any attention from Bailey's no doubt more flashy costume. The outfit I wore leaving the store was a little more basic but chosen, with the clerk's help, to make me look good, while still being conservative enough for a visit to a "college": denim jeans that clung to my hips and outlined my flat stomach, and a self-stripe tan shirt with long sleeves, and a green scarf that somehow went with the shirt. The clerk exclaimed how lucky I was to have a body the outfit worked on. I didn't say anything.
Over to shoes next: high-polish boots, a fancy pair of dress shoes, and a "collegiate" pair that was easy to walk in. I didn't want to risk stumbling clumsily around the Academy today.
Finally to accessories, where I bought a belt to go with each outfit and a fedora to complete the ensemble.
There was a bookstore nearby in the mall. I went in and bought several men's magazines.
I waited in line at the food court, to order a soft drink. When I reached the front and gave my order, the wolf in line behind me, maybe a little older than me, stepped up and said, "And I'll have a large Sip Fizz."
I turned around to look at him, wondering how anyone could be so rude, as the clerk asked, puzzled, "Is this together?" I could see the wheels spinning: she'd noticed that we had arrived separately.
The wolf smiled. "Yeah. I'm paying."
I suddenly realized what was going on, though nothing remotely like it had ever happened to me before. I examined the wolf-boy more closely. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"
As the clerk handed us our drinks, the wolf passed some money across and said, "I've been trying to decide that. I think I've seen you around. You go to the university, right?"
I smiled. "Mistaken identity. I'm at the high school. I graduate next month, though."
He blinked, but smiled. "I guess I don't know you, then. But we could fix that."
My heart was fluttering. The sudden attention was wonderful, and he was kind of cute, but there was one thought foremost in my mind. "Look, before we start anything, I should tell you I'm not available for anything long-term. I'm going to go to the Hanging Academy in the fall. So you know what that means, right?"
He sighed, and smiled. "Okay, that's useful to know. But you'd be free this Friday, right? We could go to a movie, and maybe go get a steak afterwards?"
I started to say yes, then hesitated. "I'd like that, except I've got this big thing coming this weekend. I'll have to... take a raincheck, if that's okay." I looked at him apologetically.
He smiled. "It is if the raincheck could be used the following week."
I couldn't help grinning. It was so stunning, not just being asked for a date for the first time in my life, but him being so persistent about it.
I hesitated for a second or two, then realized that it would be really useful to have some sexual experience before I started at the Academy — assuming things went that way. Marshall had said they would teach me a lot about it there, but I was willing to bet any amount that none of my classmates would be virgins. "Sure." I checked my pockets, but I hadn't brought a notepad. I turned to the clerk at the soft-drink counter. "Could you tear me a sheet off your order pad? And let me use your pencil a second?" I wrote down my phone number and signed it "Wynn" underneath, and handed it to the wolf, smiling. "I'm usually home after six."
The wolf grinned and tucked it into his wallet. "Great. I'll call you soon, Wynn. I'm Scott." He gave a little wave as he turned away.
"Oh, thank you for the drink!" He looked back and held up both hands in a think-nothing-of-it gesture, and soon was lost in the crowd.
I sighed. It would be tricky, working on getting sexual experience without getting involved with anyone.
One useful thing occurred to me: There were local clubs kids went to, to hook up someone of the opposite sex, without expectation of commitment. And there were similar clubs for males only. I knew I needed some experience with females as well as males; aside from the parties at the Academy, all of my potential sex partners in the future would be male. And while most of the Academy's customers would be male, there would be a few female ones, too. So many things to think about. I'd have to make another list.
My heart was pounding when I drove into the Academy parking lot. It was disappointing, but I knew I probably wouldn't see any of the students today. I would only be in the open-to-the-public area, and would most likely not see anyone very important either. But first impressions are always key.
Finding the Admissions Office, I took a deep breath, waited until I felt somewhat calm, and went in. A vixen behind a long counter looked up. "Can I help you?"
"I'd like to apply for admission."
The vixen took a more complete look at me, and my spirits soared when she smiled. She looked like she thought I belonged there!! The vixen's next question almost took my breath away. "Would you like to speak to our director of admissions, Valentin Bennett?"
"Oh, yes, please, if I could."
The vixen picked up a phone. "I'll see if he's free."
A few minutes later, I was in a chair in an office behind the counter, my head spinning, listening to a bobcat saying, "It's nice to meet you, Wynn. I understand you'd like to join our entering class this fall."
"Yes, very much," I breathed.
Mr. Bennett laughed. "I think Sheila must have seen that same eager look on your face. I don't usually meet like this with every applicant. Most of them do it by mail, in fact."
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I do like having a chance to meet the applicants if I can. You understand, this isn't an interview right now. Dean Porter does those, and we can schedule a time for you later. This is just more of a get-acquainted session. Of course, one natural thing to ask you is whether you know what's expected of students here. I mean, really know."
"Oh, yes, sir. I was a sub-assistant at a hanging last Saturday. And I'm doing another this Saturday."
Mr. Bennett's eyes opened wider. "Oh, my. That's a rare amount of experience." He looked to the ceiling, thinking. "Saturday. That must have been Marshall Warren. Next Saturday is Bailey Downey." He looked questioningly at me.
"Yes, sir. Bailey is doing the Runaway Slave show, and I'm looking forward to seeing that. Oh, I have this... tell me if you're the right person to give this to." I got out my wallet, extracted the form Marshall had given me, and handed it to Mr. Bennett.
The bobcat read it, then read it again more closely. "Marshall said some very nice things about you."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Bennett nodded. "I'll be sure this gets in your admission file. Let me give you an application..." He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a form. "...and we can set up an interview." He began typing on a keyboard, then looked intently at the screen. "Could you come... June 18, at 9:30 am? That's a Wednesday."
I didn't hesitate. It was after graduation. And I didn't care what else might happen that day. This took priority over everything. "Yes, sir!"
The bobcat nodded and typed again on the keyboard. Minutes later, he reached under the desk as a memo came out of the printer. "Here, you can take this with you to remind you."
Like I'd forget!! "Yes, sir. Besides that, do you need anything else other than the application and my high school transcripts?"
The bobcat smiled and shook his head. "No, that will take care of it, on your end. On our end, we'll send out letters of acceptance by August 15. Classes start in mid-September, so you'll have about a month to clear up any loose ends in your life before you get here."
You WILL have a month, I thought. Not "would have." Will have. Stop it, Wynn. Don't read too much into everything. It's just a one-word difference. "Yes, sir."
"Now, do you have any questions you wanted to ask?"
I laughed, tension starting to release now that today's hurdle seemed crossed. "I have so many questions, we'd be sitting here until the middle of September if I started asking them. But I just want to tell you that I really, really want to be a student here."
Mr. Bennett laughed in turn. "You didn't have to tell me, Wynn. I can see that."
I almost floated home, and danced my way up the stairs. Passing the door of Andrew's room, I saw something that promised to top off my day. Andrew, having taken Marshall's head out of the preserving fluid, the three days having passed, had taken it to a shop to have it mounted. He must have just arrived home, and was now clearing a space on one of his shelves for Marshall.
I smiled. He'd chosen a shelf-mounting rather than a wall-mounting. That was good. I wouldn't have to change it then. I didn't want Marshall looking like a hunting trophy. Marshall's neck was secured to a square wooden base, with an inch-high metal sleeve encircling the bottom on his neck; hidden bolts held him securely with his head upright. I cleared my throat.
Andrew looked around sourly, and did a perfect double take, his eyes wide. He stared at me for several beats, and I almost laughed out loud when his eyes, probably unconsciously, flicked for an instant towards his bed and then returned to staring at me. Oh, right, Andrew!! As if!! I knew several anthros who had experimented with in-family sex to practice for the dating game. I had no general objection to the idea other than that it would have involved Andrew.
Andrew finally recovered his normal self. "What'd you do, dipshit, decide to be a man for awhile?"
I just smiled at him. "Oh, I've decided a whole bunch of things. One of them is, I was just thinking Marshall would look a lot better in my room."
He snorted. "At least you're not any less crazy."
I let my smile broaden slightly. "What's he worth to you, Andrew?"
He laughed. "What, you're going to offer me some of Dad's money I could just as easily get from him anyway?"
I shook my head. "I'm not talking about money, Andrew. What's it worth to you for all your friends not to find out you shot your wad all over your stomach like a teenaged dork, before you even got his pants off?"
Instantly he straightened upright and whirled around to face me, glowering. "What the fuck are you..."
Over the next five seconds a montage of expressions passed over his face in sequence. I burst out laughing because I could read the thought behind every one of them: (1) How could he know?? He couldn't know! (2) He does know! (3) The slut told him! (4) The slut couldn't have! There was never an opportunity! (5) He saw me! No, he couldn't have, there's no way he was in there! (6) I don't remember seeing him at the party for like an hour. Shit, HE WAS IN THERE!
Andrew shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving my face, though their earlier sexual interest in me was long forgotten. He growled, his voice shaking, "They'll never believe you."
"People always believe exactly what they want to believe, Andrew. Tell me, is this something your friends would like to believe?"
He stared at me again silently for an extended time. Finally, in a low, tight voice, he rasped, "What do you want?"
I looked at him with satisfaction. "I just want two things, Andrew. Just two. And they'll be easy. One is, I want you to treat me with more respect. I don't want you to call me dumbshit, doofus, any of those things. I want you to call me Wynn. That's my name."
He breathed through his nose with gritted teeth. Finally he asked, "And what's the second thing..." Long pause. "...Wynn?"
"I already told you. I want him." I pointed at Marshall's head.
He stood there a long time, his fists clenched. At last he moved to the side and indicated Marshall's head with a "Fuck it, take him" gesture.
In my room, I sat on my bed, feeling completely at peace, cradling Marshall's head against my chest. Then I set Marshall carefully on top of my headboard, and unclipped the coronet Andrew had left in place. I combed out Marshall's hair to look the way it had when he'd arrived at the house. I didn't want Marshall in his Prince role. That was something he'd been doing for Andrew. I wanted him to look the way he looked in everyday life.
Marshall's eyes were unfocused, of course, but with a soft, quiet expression. The edges of his lips were curled in a tiny smile.
I spent the next hour carefully teasing the stitches out of Marshall's choker that had spelled, "Property of Andrew Cameron," leaving it saying only, "Marshall."
I sighed deeply when I was finished. "We'll stay here for a few months, Marshall. Then I'm going to take you home. To the Academy." Marshall made no reply, but I didn't need one. I knew how Marshall would feel.
My first date with Scott was amazing, and yes, we did end up in bed. He was really very nice, extra gentle because it was my first time. And he made sure that I got pleasure out of it too. In fact, I came all over his belly while he was in me. He just smiled and said, "That's the way, Wynn." And about a minute later I felt him come inside me. That was... incredible. Better than coming. Nearly as nice as pretending to be Marshall.
Afterward, he laughed while I got a towel and cleaned him up. "Actually, you lasted pretty well for a virgin. You'll be able to last longer once you have some experience. Someday you'll come at the same time as the top — I think you'll find it quite an experience, both pleasures at once."
Maybe, but I doubted it would be as good as what I had when I played at being Marshall, with my hands behind me and a towel around my neck. I wasn't ready to discuss that with this wolf on a first date, though.
Weeks went by. I bought some exercise equipment — an elliptical trainer, a treadmill, weight machines and free weights. I studied hard and exercised harder, and was careful what I ate. Finals came, and I got As in everything except Phys. Ed. I pulled off a high B there.
That left more time for exercise and for R&R. Scott knew school was over and called me. We had another date, and it was even better than the first. This time he wanted me to use my mouth. I liked the idea, he looked and smelled so sexy, but I kept having trouble with my gag reflex.
Scott grabbed my head to stop me. "Your problem, dear Wynn, is that you lack incentive."
"So, what are you going to do to me?" I was a little nervous, not being able to get it right.
"I'm going to show you what it feels like. After you know how much pleasure it brings, you'll have the incentive to get it right with me."
He took me in his mouth, his tongue and his lips working my cock. I couldn't believe how hot and wet that felt. And toward the end, when I really wanted to come but had to wait for him to bring me, that added to the pleasure. It was even better than having him in me. Better than anything except the ropes and towel.
I took him in my mouth again, and whenever I felt like gagging I thought about the pleasure. I had no trouble at all, and I was even able to prolong it a few extra seconds, knowing how much extra pleasure that would give him. This time I got it right. He screamed my name as he filled my mouth with his semen. He'd swallowed mine, so I returned the favor, and that was nice, too. It was better than nice: I was accepting him into me in a way that nothing else, not even fucking, could do. It left me feeling even more complete than when he'd done me.