Baffled and Dissolutioned

Written by MadDogAirPirate
Illustrated by Weaselgrease

It was the third day of the new school year, and already, Weylen was starting to sweat it. His dad was, well, his dad, but definitely didn't understand what was asked of him, sometimes. Even now, his dad's words echoed in his ears, and he could remember the ominous feel of his grip on his shoulder from behind. "Son, you're a wolf. Wolves are at the top of the chain, and that means you need to be the best now that you're in high school. Don't even think about bringing home anything less than an A." Weylen had swallowed at the time, absorbing his father's words, before asking nervously. "What about an A minus?" His father had chuckled good naturedly, wandered around the corner, and then poked his head around with a very serious, commanding and sinister look on his face. "Well now, that'd be less than A, wouldn't it?"

It was something even the other kids didn't really get, when he ended up lost in thought or buried in his studies. It wasn't that he didn't want to be friends, or he wasn't friendly, or even that he was horribly awkward. Well, okay. A little awkward. Who wasn't?

Just about every course he had was tough. Sure, he was really smart, so that wasn't exactly the problem. It was just that, anything could happen that might cause him to get less than an A. What if a teacher didn't like him? What if they went way too fast, expected too much? Homework was already piling up. And on top of it all, he was walking toward his second period class, which changed depending on the day of the week. And now that it was Thursday, that meant gym class.

Nose buried in his class schedule, the wolf was only half able to pay attention to where he was heading. That caused him to bump into a student here and there, allowing him only seconds to utter an apology before he bumped into the next one as each student moved along to his or her next class. Seeing what he thought was the right place, he asked an exiting hulk of a bear, probably a junior or senior. "Uh, s-scuse me, is this gym class?"

The large bear, dressed in shorts and a hoodie, chuckles. "Ya think maybe that's why the sign says 'gymnasium'? Dipstick." He brushes right past Weylen, bumping into him with such force that he toppled over, the weight of his backpack full of books unbalancing him even more. A couple of raccoon girls giggled as they walked on by into the gym. Slightly embarrassed, Weylen got up and headed in. It seemed like students were gathering on the bleachers on the wall of the gym, so that's where he headed as well. The ones that knew each other clustered together in their little social circles, chatting. Weylen heard the bell ring as a dippy otter student rushed in to make it before he was considered late.

So far, there was no teacher. Weylen situated his backpack next to him while he looked around, watching the other students. And for a few minutes, no one came. A male rat student that Weylen didn't yet know the name to spoke up. "Hey, teacher ain't here! After ten minutes we get to go, right?" he asks with a grin as he chuckled. A siamese cat girl, he was pretty sure her name was Liz, retorts, "that's for college, you idiot. Where are we gonna go?" Some other very thin, stylishly dressed pretty fox girl sitting a distance away was texting on her cell phone. She snottily replied, "Study hall! Duh."

WHUMP. The sound echoed through the gym, and most students immediately looked over in the direction of the boys' locker room.

The teacher looked to have arrived. Or teachers, perhaps. One of them looked to be a bat in a white visored hat, Blue shorts and a white tank top, of sorts... except that it seemed to pull over like a sleeveless poncho, which made sense, given the bat wings. He must have been the coach, it was written on his hat. Coach Ichitro, by the name on his schedule. The other one, Weylen had no idea. He looked to be a weasel, with blue shorts, a yellow t-shirt, and a yellow visored cap. And apparently, he had no idea that Ichitro was going to just drop the blue gym mats like he did, because he was still holding the other end, looking baffled, while Ichitro walked toward the students. The weasel set down his end, and some of the students paid attention to the teacher, while others went back to chatting or whatever they were doing.

At least until his voice, raised higher than talking, but lower than a full-on shout, cuts through their conversations. "Eyes forward, I expect to see yer faces and not the back of your heads. Not in class, anyway." The weasel looks as if he's about to say something, but doesn't even get to before the bat instructor continues. "I'm Coach Ichitro, and you apparently have pieced together this is gym class. So I'll see you here once a week, on time." He looks right at the otter on that one. Coach Ichitro cast his gaze across the young faces, seeing who was paying attention, and also, he seemed to be noting who was trying to look him in the eye. Almost no one could do it. A few could, but most, even the reasonably confident, averted their gazes as soon as his eyes darted in their direction. Weylen found himself in the same spot, looking mostly at the floor. He continued, "We're gonna learn who each of you are, I'm gonna go through the rules of the class, and then we're gonna get some exercise in today-" he said, with a groan from a pudgy male beaver student sitting on the end of the bleachers. The sound immediately triggered Ichitro, and he looked right over.

He says nothing for a few seconds, and at this point, neither did anyone else. Even the few that had started chatting as he began talking were silent now, most realizing this wasn't a good teacher to test. "A few years ago they decided to scale gym back from two days a week to one. Felt it was getting in the way of other periods that mattered to students. Like lunch. You're freshmen, and I know from every year that the middle schools do squat about teaching you the importance of fitness. The things that get the most exercise on you are your mouths, and your thumbs." He's looking at fox girl, who hadn't yet looked up, and was still texting away on her cell phone. "HEY. Tina Two Thumbs. Eyes up here." She let out an exasperated sigh before correcting him. "My name's Rhonda, gawd." Ichitro's eyes narrowed, but he started to get a bit of a grin. "Weasel, write." The weasel who was already wandering over pulled out a notepad of sorts from his shorts along with a pen, and quickly scribbled up something. Ichitro stopped his talking, and all the other students could do was look around at each other in bewilderment. All except for the fox girl, eyes still glued to the cell phone.

After a half minute, Weasel handed a piece of paper to Ichitro, who stepped over to the girl and slipped the paper right under her thumb as she was typing. For the first time, with the teacher so close, she looked up, her seemingly tough demeanor wavering for a few seconds at having someone so close that it crossed a boundary for her. "What's this?" she asks. Ichitro answers sharply, "I'm required to give students a warning first, some agreement I said I'd make last year. Eyes forward, I said. Or you lose the phone." The fox girl moved her thumb, allowing the paper to lilt onto the bleachers as she delivered her response. "Whatever. Can't touch me or my stuff."

Ichitro's movement was so deft that no one could have realized what he did until the cell phone was launched well into the air. He'd batted the underside of it, knocking it right out of her grip so that it flew up over the coach's head in an arc to many's amazement.

"WOOAH." The fat beaver kid on the end said it all, before the cell phone smacked into the gym floor. Rhonda tried to keep her composure but was losing out to both shock and rage at almost certainly seeing her cell phone damaged.

"You're gonna pay for my phone, and I'm gonna see to it you're fired."

In a flatter, more stoic answer as he stepped away, Ichitro responded coldly, "You can sure try, ambitextress. But this is my class, and for the near hour you're here each week, you're gonna pay attention, and you're gonna exercise. Way more than your thumbs and your mouth."

Rhonda stood up, enraged. "My dad is on the town council! How dare-" she snaps before being drowned out and cut off. "Save it. Phone's gone, and in a second you'll be serving detention for as long as I want to keep you, after school. Don't believe it, try me."

That actually shut her right up, and she sat down, looking but glaring daggers as Ichitro continued. "Anyway, I can tell from a few of your marshmallows you don't know the value of fitness. You're all going to exercise. Including today."

The beaver raised his hand. "Excuse me, Coach Ichitro, I can't. I have asthma. I have a note, see?" He produced it from his backpack, and Ichitro was already on his way over to snatch it from him. "Unless you've got polio or cancer, you can exercise, and you're going to! I don't see crutches and you've got all your fur. You're all going to play dodgeball today."

There were a few seconds of stunned silence before Liz asked, "So, wait, what are the gym mats for?"

"The whump sound." Without missing a beat, Ichitro continued, "I know the way middle school does it. No one fails gym. You show up, act like a barnacle, get an A. Not here. My job's to teach fitness. You can fail, and if you don't try, you will fail. In the next few weeks I'm gonna get yer weight, resting heart rate, and a measure of flexibility. And at the end, how improved you are in terms of healthy weight, heart rate, and flexibility is your grade." Everyone was stunned. "... Are we clear?" he asked, before getting a quiet murmur or two of ascencion before he asked again, "Clear?" Rhonda pointed out, "Hey, I'm already a good weight, I can't lose much. So that means I get an A in that part, right?" Ichitro has a minor curl of a smile. "I said healthy weight. In your case, you're going to gain through a bit of muscle tone and healthy eating." The fox looked like she was going to explode. "Gain weight? Are you insane?" Ichitro smirked a bit at that. "I said, it's my job to teach you fitness. You have the muscle of a spaghetti strand and if I had to guess, all of your ribs show." Rhonda was speechless.

"So! You all need gym shorts and a t-shirt. If you didn't buy one for the class, you'll have to use one of the... communal shorts and shirts. Everyone, locker rooms, change, I expect to see you all out here in five minutes!" Ichitro folded his arms and glanced about, as a few students got off the bench to head for the locker rooms, while others just looked at each other.

"I said move it! I've got no problem giving a zero for the day for some of you. It's my favorite number, only gotta write one digit instead of two." After that, everyone got up and was heading for the locker rooms. Weylen couldn't help but glance at Ichitro, and what really shook him was when the gym teacher cast his eyes in Weylen's direction.

By the time Weylen had gotten into the locker room, it'd rippled with whispers about the teacher, the unfamiliar voices buzzing around him as he found a place to sit. "He doesn't really fail people, does he?" "He failed a whole class last year!" "You're full of shit." "No, dead serious." "C'mon." "Hey James, I ate over at your house last week and had your mom's cooking, so if she made you breakfast this morning, you're full of shit." "Duuuuude!" "Oh man, got told." "Shut up."

The voices were just a faint presence as Weylen checked his backpack for his black gym shorts and white t-shirt. The shirt was no problem. He slipped quickly out of the green one he was wearing and put it on. The gym shorts, though.... He looked up more from self-consciousness than wanting to look at anyone else. A few were already changed, some were in the process of getting changed, but once he looked up he couldn't help but glance around, trying not to stare. Still, he always worried he was looking too long. Some raccoon across the room was wearing white briefs and the line of his balls was just way too clear in them. The second the raccoon even seemed to be ready to look in his direction he freaked out and nearly stumbled off the bench.

Ichitro walked into the hallway that connected the changing room and the gym, then glanced in at the students. "Anyone in here not have gym shorts or a shirt?" The rat who'd spoken earlier blasts, "Coach, d'ya mind, we're changin' here! You a pervert or something?"

Ichitro didn't seem phased in the least. "My job's to make sure you're dressed properly, and nobody here needs to take his underwear off to get changed into gym clothes. Besides, you're a rat, with how small your balls are showin' through that you've got other things to worry about." The weasel assistant actually darted into the room at that point. "What he means is the locker room's for changing and he's the teacher. Nothing inappropriate is going on here. ... Nothing." That last word was said in a much deeper tone as he looks at Ichitro... who still didn't seem phased in the least. "So no one? Last call. You show up in the wrong clothes, you fail for the day, and I'm not openin' the locker to get more later." The rat sighed, then raised his hand. Then a dog's hand went up. "So two. Back in a minute."

Ichitro headed off, and the weasel assistant trailed after him. Weylen took off his jeans, one leg first, then the other, looking down the whole time. He reached around for the black gym shorts he'd left on the bench, and as he pulled to bring them over to him, he encountered immediate resistance, actually more pulling himself off the bench before he steadied himself on one knee. It was in that process that Weylen saw the snag. The kangaroo student who'd sat down on the bench next to him put his bookbag on it, and he was leaning on that while he was changing. Weylen managed to stop himself short from going face-first into the kangaroo's underwear. Right there, just inches away, the bulging shape of two balls... and the cock looked like it was underneath them. It took a few seconds from the shock of realization before Weylan could react, and by then, he could feel a hand pulling him up by grabbing the back of his shirt: the kangaroo's.

"The hell're you doin?" The tone of the question made it plenty clear the kangaroo was annoyed. Definite Australian accent, which, while it was not surprising from a kangaroo, most around here didn't have the accent. The kangaroo wasn't on the smaller side, that's for sure. He had a good foot of extra height on Weylen.

"I, you were on m-my shorts, and-" Weylen started to explain in a stuttering mess of an explanation, and by now he knew all eyes were pretty much on him and the kangaroo.

Nostrils flared, the kangaroo snaps, "You get a good look? Cause it's gonna be harder next time when yer eye sockets are swollen shut."

"Here now, what's going on here?" The weasel had rounded the corner to see the kangaroo student holding Weylan by the shirt. "There a problem?" the weasel assistant asked.

"Damn right there's a problem! This sicko just put his face right in my nethers!" the kangaroo blasted.

"First of all, watch your language, second, let go of him, and third... you, what's your name?" the assistant asked.

The kangaroo let him go. Weylen looked at the assistant before glancing at the floor. "Weylen, sir."

"Well, Weylen, is what he says true?"

"It wasn't on purpose, he was on my shorts, and when I pulled on them, I lost my balance, and... it was an accident."

The assistant nods. "All right. And you, what's your name?"

The kangaroo folds his arms. "Riley."

"Were you on his shorts?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe."

"Then it was probably an accident, and unless you want detention or suspension I suggest you let it go. Now c'mon, you all shoulda been ready 2 minutes ago. Why are you not dressed yet?" he asks, at Riley as he's the only one not changed. Before he can answer, the assistant points out at the gym. "Never mind. Get ready and get out."

Riley grumbled but started getting dressed. As Weylen got up, Riley snapped his way, "I'm onta you."

Completely unsettled, for Weylen things didn't get better once gym class was underway. Under Coach Ichitro's insistence, even exercising for fun wasn't exercise enough, and the multitude of dodgeballs he unleashed for a more active game just meant he was being pelted constantly. Even then, everything was bearable... until he leapt aside do dodge a ball and crashed right into Rhonda, the fox who'd been texting earlier, and they crumpled in a heap right to the floor.

"Oh my gawd, get off me!"

Weylen had hardly planned it, but his head was right where it shouldn't be. Between Rhonda's breasts, and she was clearly pissed. She let loose a messy barrage of slaps and kicks to get Weylen off, who did scramble off pretty quickly once he'd realized just where he'd crashed. But even when Rhonda got up, she wouldn't let up, still swinging at him. "You frickin' sicko!"

"Hey, hey! Break it up, both of you." As soon as Ichitro's voice cut through it, Rhonda stopped. "Looks like I've got two afterschool buddies. Both of you, detention, report to the gym here at the end of the day." Ichitro blew his whistle. "We're done here, go change."

That's when the bell rang.

"Oh my god, we're gonna be late for our next class!" a tall female swan whined.

Ichitro chuckled. "Not if you hustle." No one seemed to have pleased looks as everyone broke for the locker rooms, too frantic to do much of anything but get to class.

Weylen wasn't sure how this day could get any more embarrassing. Already he'd been called sicko, twice. By two different students. And they were both accidents. The first one would have been tough enough to deny, but two in one period... Weylen didn't think he could live it down. It was all he stressed about for the next hour.

Most of the rest of the day went better. That may have had to do with the fact that most of the students in gym weren't in his other classes. Advance placement math, history, and English helped that. His last period class, though, was science, and that wasn't advanced.

So far, it seemed interesting enough, and he liked his teacher, but he wasn't sure he could keep up. His school was cramming earth science into the first half of the year, and chemistry into the second half. Darwyn Dingo, his teacher, was enthusiastic about the breakneck pace they were taking. His students were less so.

"Seats, everyone, take them! Today we're going to continue on the basics of scientific method, so that next week we can really delve into the studies of earth science. You'll notice the lab equipment over there, we're going to do a study on what melts ice the best."

Weylen had already started to panic at the mention of scientific method. The different steps, questions, hypotheses, validity. Man, it was too much to remember. And the class was already getting up and... wait, getting up? They were heading over to the lab tables. He was completely lost. Not wanting to look clueless or get into trouble, Weylen hurried over.

It was a blur of a half hour as he tried to figure out just how he was supposed to design an experiment for melting ice to see which chemical or type of salt worked best. With little to show for it, he looked like a panicked, sweating, nervous wreck. That's when Darwyn headed over. "So, Weylen, how's your... uhhh." Darwyn looked all over. "Have you started any designs, any tests at all? And where's your lab partner?"

Weylen felt completely exposed for how stupid he felt right then. "I, uh...."

Darwyn pointed at the watch he was wearing. "You've got only twenty more minutes. But no wonder you're falling behind if you have no lab partner. Riley! You don't have one either, right? Come here and work with Mr. Wolf."

If it was any more possible for Weylen's fur to stand on end, it had to have happened as soon as his science teacher said the name Riley... and he remembered that kangaroo was in his science class. And he was heading over, hands stuffed in his pockets of his blue hoodie, looking pretty pissed. Darwyn smiled amicably as he broke through the tension obliviously, "Share your findings thus far on which substance you've found is best at melting the ice."

Riley seemed to brighten up after casting a devious glare at Weylen. "Sure thing Mr. D! Back in a shake." He was returning with a row of beakers along with a several flasks of ice. Weylen found himself staring down at his notebook, unsure how he'd even be able to look at Riley. "I, uh...." He still was frozen in fear... or he would be if he wasn't quivering a bit.

Riley chuckled, and clasped Weylen on the back. Actually, it was more his neck, as he was a good bit shorter than the kangaroo. "No worries, sicko. I know which one of these dissolves best!"

Whatever beating or humiliation he was expecting, it didn't come, and Riley worked on the assignment while Weylen slowly loosened up. The day was almost over... and he was finally throwing salts onto the same amount of ice in each flask, writing down the findings in his lab notebook. And maybe that Riley wasn't so bad, he thought. He started cleaning up after instruction to do so.

The bell rang, and most every student was relieved, gathering stuff and pouring into the hallway. He'd reached his locker before he remembered... detention. Sighing, Weylen put his bookbag into his locker, and headed for the gymnasium.

Somehow being alone in the gym made it seem that much bigger. Trudging across the room with trepidation, he saw Coach Ichitro holding a stopwatch as he stepped out into the main gym from the locker rooms. "Took you six minutes to get here, that means yer stayin' an extra twelve more than the half hour I meant to keep you. Now c'mon, we've got laundry ta do."

Weylen was on the verge of offering an excuse when he thought better of it. Nervously clutching his hands, he asked, "What about, uh, the other-" he started before Ichitro interrupted him.

"The girl? Daddy called me and said she can't serve it, she has an appointment at the doctor, and he doesn't think she did anything wrong. Not your concern, get in here."

Weylen noticed that the weasel assistant from today wasn't around, and somehow that made him all the more tense. Leading Weylen into the locker room, Coach Ichitro turned around. "All the loaner clothing from today needs to be washed." He scowled, Weylen knew he caught that out of the corner of his eye, before Ichitro snapped, "Hey. Kid. Eyes up here."

Weylen looked him in the eye, but couldn't hold it, as he felt really uncomfortable. When he turned his head, though, Ichitro's expression changed, almost to one of surprise. "Weylen. Take off yer shirt!"

Weylen was wearing the same hooded jacket over a t-shirt that he'd had on all day except gym class, along with his jeans. But this wasn't gym class, so he was confused, hesitant to comply.

"Damn it, take it off!" Ichitro's commanding tone had left him in confusion more than anything. It's like he was trying to re-evaluate what he'd just heard. But then he felt Ichitro's hand on his shoulder while the other one moved to pull his jacket off. The shock gave way and Weylen resisted, pulling backward into the lockers on the wall. Even so, Ichitro had managed to pull the hoodie off, and the bat coach flung it onto the ground behind them.

Underneath Weylen's hoodie was a t-shirt. "I said off!" Ichitro lurched forward, grabbing Weylen by the shirt and just tearing it forward, ripping it right off the confused and frightened wolf student's frame.

Weylen pulled off to his left, backing away, inadvertantly tripping over one of the locker room benches and falling to the floor, his legs up in the air, but Ichitro had grabbed Weylen by his feet, knocking his shoes off quickly.

By now Weylen found his voice even as he tried to back away. "Coach, please, don't! Lemme-" he started, before Ichitro cut in, grabbing the anklecloth of his trousers. "Pants off, damn it!" Ichitro was commanding, intense, and not to be argued with, right now. But Weylen grabbed onto the waistband of his pants, not wanting them removed. Ichitro leaned over the bench so that he was practically on top of Weylen. The wolf gasped, finding it hard to breathe, as Ichitro reached his hand into the waistband of his trousers a little bit while he aimed to remove Weylen's grip with his free one. After a few seconds of struggle, to Weylen's dismay, he yanked the trousers down, leaving Weylen exposed to Coach Ichitro. His sheath, right there. Weylen had never felt so vulnerable or so inappropriate. As Ichitro finished pulling the trousers off and tossed them aside, Weylen backed up across the floor.

"Stop it! Someone help! Get away from me!"

What was even more confusing was what happened next. Ichitro stood up, and didn't advance toward Weylen. "Ya done freakin' out?" he asks, some mild disdain in his voice.

Weylen was trying to make sense of things, but covering himself up with his hands and shiny away occupied his mind much more. "I-" the perplexed and fearful student began, but Ichitro cut him off again.

"Ya had acid eating right through yer clothes." He pointed to the discarded hoodie, where it was a white, foaming mess in the hood, and less foamy but no less obvious on the shirt he'd been wearing.

Weylen tried to regain his composure and put that together. "You... you were trying to-"

"The acid was gonna burn right into yer skin. And when I pulled yer hoodie off, it got all on your pants and your shirt." Ichitro folded his arms. "Why? What did you think was happening here?"

Weylen looked up at Ichitro, but then turned his head in embarrassment, clutching one hand to his chest as he wrestled with getting up or staying down. Down meant less exposure. "I didn't know, you were ripping my clothes off. Why'd you take off my underwear?" he asks, a hint of anger having crept into his voice.

Ichitro points at Weylen. "You were holding onto yer pants. Otherwise those woulda stayed on. I had to get 'em off before that stuff hit your skin. Who knows how strong it is."

Weylen didn't feel as threatened at this point, so he leaned forward, a hand still covering his privates. "So why didn't you say there was acid?"

"I was more concerned with getting it away from your skin," the coach contended.

"I... when something like that happens, you're supposed to tell me! That was completely humiliating! You saw me naked."

"I'm a gym coach," Ichitro countered icily. "I've seen people's junk before."

"Not like that, you pulled my clothes off me! How would you feel if someone made you pull off your clothes?"

In a quick pull, Ichitro removed the whistle from his neck and tossed it aside. He wasn't even sure how deftly the coach was able to grab his shirt and lift it over his head, given his wings, but it happened so quickly Weylen didn't have time to really ponder it. He tucked his index finger into his pants, and, without taking his eyes off Weylen, he bent down to push them down before stepping out of them, leaving the coach entirely naked. He was rather well-toned, but his sheath had one added feature to Weylen's. The tip of his pink cock peeked right out of it, seeming to glisten with some kind of lubrication.

Weylen just sat there, staring. Right at it. Right at Ichitro's penis, what he could see of it. "That's not what-" Weylen started, before Ichitro cut him off. "Oh shut up. We're even, you saw me naked. We're guys, we've got the same stuff. Seeing it ain't perverted or even sexual."

Weylen pointed in a way that was almost hard to distinguish he was pointing at all. "That's not what I- and you're showing. That's sexual. It's- this whole thing is wrong."

Ichitro grunted. "You're starting sex ed tomorrow, you're in my class on Fridays. Sounds like I've got a lot to teach you. Hmmph. Teens, and all their ass-backwords, fucked up ideas about sex." He added, "I'm showing because bats have long dicks. That's as far in as mine goes. I got an 'outie'. Don't read anything into it, I ain't getting a hard-on from this."

Weylen wished he could say the same. He could feel his own cock pushing against his hand.

"You still got detention to serve. Grab yer underwear and put it on. That should hold you until we wash these clothes, then you can wear a set home. ... Unless you can't handle bein' in yer underwear, too embarrassing for you." Ichitro glanced sidelong at Weylen a touch of a smirk on his face. "I'll be in my office. Do the laundry." He started off, not even looking back as he walked out of the room.

Weylen was still trying to process everything. "Well, aren't you going to put yours back on?" the wolf asked, a hint of indignation sneaking in through his usually meek demeanor.

"Nope." And with that, the naked bat turned the corner into his office, leaving Weylen to puzzle just how bothered this had all left him. As his cock threatened to push his hand out more, he realized he was a lot more than just puzzled by the experience.