Anthro 101

By Zyran Blitz

Published on Feb 1, 2025

Gay

Anthro 101 Chapter 1

đŸŽ"Anthro 101

By: Zyran Blitz | knottedquill@gmail.com

Disclaimer: This story is for adults only (18+). It contains explicit gay content with anthropomorphic characters. If that's not your thing, turn back now. Fantasy ≠reality--be smart, be safe, and be consensual.

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Now, lube up, grab your favourite toy, and enjoy. Class starts now.


Author's Note: While I have published other stories on the Nifty Archive, this is my first story that I have written. It is told in 50 chapters. It is all written, but as a graduate student, it takes me time to edit and publish it. I apologise in advance for any delays. Derek and Ryan are very special to me. I hope they can be special for you too. Please enjoy.

🐺 Chapter 1: A Chemical Reaction

Derek pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as he shuffled out of the lecture hall, his oversized clothes doing little to shield him from the overwhelming feeling that had gripped him since the semester began. It had been a month now, and still, he felt like he was drowning. The campus was massive, the buildings intimidating, and the people--so many people--were constantly rushing past him, making him feel small despite his towering 6'3" frame. Today was no different. Another tedious organic chemistry lab, where the material felt as dense as ever, had left him more confused than when he walked in. It didn't help that he hated the subject. Chemistry wasn't what he wanted to study, but his parents had insisted. They said it was practical, that it would secure him a job. He would rather be in a political science class, discussing policies and debates that actually interested him. But here he was, stuck in a maze of molecular structures and reactions that made his head spin.

There was only one thing--one person--that made orgo remotely bearable: Ryan.

The husky couldn't help himself. Every time they had lab, his eyes drifted toward the table across from his, where Ryan sat, always looking annoyingly composed. The short fox, with his toned build and effortless confidence, seemed to glide through everything with ease. His purple eyes gleamed with intelligence, and his surfer-style hair was always slightly tousled in that perfectly carefree way. Ryan was the kind of guy Derek could only dream of being--bold, self-assured, and, above all, undeniably attractive. Even now, just thinking about him made Derek's cheeks flush beneath his fur. Derek wasn't sure if Ryan had noticed him staring. Well, he hoped not. The last thing Derek wanted was to draw attention to himself. He always tried to blend in, despite his height and the awkward way his grey fur sometimes stuck out from beneath his hoodie. He kept his hair long, just enough to cover his eyes, and he wore clothes that were two sizes too big to hide his frame. It was easier that way, easier to feel invisible.

As he walked across campus, his thoughts kept drifting back to Ryan. There was something about him--more than just his looks. It was the way he moved, the way he carried himself, and the way he always seemed so... sure. Ryan knew what he wanted, and he didn't seem to care what anyone else thought. Derek wished he could be like that. He wished he could feel that kind of confidence. But off the soccer field, Derek was a mess. On the field, he could lose himself in the game, let his instincts take over and feel in control, confident, even aggressive. He loved the way it felt to be in the zone, where nothing else mattered. But off the field? Off the field, he felt lost, like he didn't belong.

Derek sighed, pushing through the heavy doors of the gym as he headed toward the locker room. Another day, another practice. Soccer was the only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that made him feel like he had a place here. But even that was starting to feel like a chore, especially when he had to juggle it with the endless assignments, the long lab hours, and the constant pressure to perform. And to make matters worse, he knew Ryan would be in the locker room today getting ready for swim practice.

As soon as the big husky entered the locker room, the air felt cooler against his fur, a small relief from the confusion clouding his mind. The scent of chlorine hit him immediately, mixing with the familiar scent of sweat and damp towels. He heard the sounds of his teammates and the swimmers who shared the locker room with them getting ready for practice. His heart rate picked up. He knew he shouldn't feel this way--he'd been around other athletes in the locker room plenty of times before. But something about Ryan made it different. Every time he saw the fox, shirtless and dripping with water before practice, it was impossible to ignore the tightening in his chest or the way his breath caught in his throat. Derek wasn't ready to admit what it all meant, but his body seemed to know before his mind did.

Sure enough, as Derek rounded the corner, there was Ryan, standing near the row of lockers, still toweling off after his pre-swim shower. His fur was slick and wet, droplets of water trailing down his toned chest. Ryan's back was to Derek, giving him a brief moment to admire the way his muscles shifted under his fur, the way his athletic body was compact but powerful, every movement controlled and purposeful. Derek quickly looked away, his face burning. He needed to focus. He needed to keep his head down, change into his practice gear, and get out of here. But even as he told himself this, his eyes drifted back to Ryan, who had just turned around.

"Hey," Ryan said, his voice casual but with that familiar glint in his eyes that always made Derek's pulse quicken.

Derek swallowed hard. "Hey," he mumbled, quickly looking down at the floor.

Ryan gave him a small smirk. "Rough lecture?"

"Yeah, something like that," Derek mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared at the floor, his fingers shaking slightly as he pulled out his cleats. He felt the weight of his awkwardness settle over him like a heavy blanket. He could feel Ryan's eyes on him, like the fox was studying him, sizing him up. Derek shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could just disappear into his oversized hoodie.

Ryan tossed his towel over his shoulder and stepped a little closer. "You know, you don't have to hate it so much. Organic chemistry can be fun if you let it."

Derek glanced up, his brow furrowing. "Fun? Seriously?"

Ryan shrugged, his purple eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure. Maybe you just need the right partner for those labs." His voice was low, smooth, carrying a note of suggestion that made Derek's ears twitch.

Derek's heart sped up, and he did his best not to stare, but his eyes kept flicking back to the fox. Ryan was standing in front of his locker, still toweling off his fur, his compact, muscular body on full display. His reddish-brown fur was damp and matted in places, the water droplets catching the light and making his body glisten. He wore a snug blue and gold Speedo that clung to his hips, showing off every curve, every line of muscle, hugging him in all the right places. The blue contrasted sharply with his reddish fur, and the way it fit around his toned thighs drew Derek's eyes before he could stop himself. Stop staring, Derek thought, quickly looking down at his own bag as he fumbled to pull out his gear. But it was impossible not to notice Ryan's body. Derek tried to focus on something--anything--else, but his mind kept returning to the fox's confident posture, the way he moved like he knew exactly how good he looked.

Derek's heart was pounding in his chest. He could barely think straight, his thoughts swirling between the conversation, Ryan's smile, and the way the Speedo clung to Ryan's body, still damp from the shower. "Maybe," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the ground, his body stiff as he tried not to focus on the way Ryan was leaning against the locker, his chest still glistening under the locker room lights.

Ryan chuckled softly. "You've been looking pretty stressed lately. You ever think about taking a break? Just, I don't know, relaxing a bit?"

Derek swallowed, his mouth dry. He could feel Ryan's eyes on him, but he didn't know how to respond. His mind was racing, but no words came out. Is he flirting with me? Or is this just...? His thoughts spiraled as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Well, maybe I'll see you after practice," Ryan added, his voice teasing, as if he knew exactly what effect he was having on Derek. He tossed his towel over his shoulder, the edges of his Speedo riding slightly higher as he turned and walked toward the pool.

Derek sat there, stunned, watching Ryan leave, his heart still pounding. See me after practice? But that doesn't make sense... Soccer practice lasted a half-hour longer than swim practice. By the time Derek finished, the swim team would be long gone. Why would Ryan say that? It didn't add up, and the more Derek thought about it, the more confused he became.


Derek quickly shook off his nerves, reminding himself that he had practice to focus on. Soccer had always been his escape--the one place where he could forget everything else. The field was where he felt strong, in control. But today, something was off. His mind was still swirling with thoughts of Ryan, his conversation replaying over and over in his head. As he jogged out onto the pitch, he tugged on his team's uniform--a deep blue jersey with gold stripes down the sides, matching shorts with the same gold accents. The jersey crushed his fur, already growing damp in the warm sun. He tugged at the hem, trying to focus as the familiar rhythm of practice took over. But even as the drills began, his thoughts kept wandering back to Ryan, to that teasing smile, to the scent of chlorine that still seemed to linger in his nose.

The first drill was a passing exercise, one Derek usually excelled at. But today, his mind wasn't on the game. He misjudged his pass, sending the ball too far ahead of his team captain, Cooper--a grey wolf with sharp green eyes and a no-nonsense attitude.

"Come on, Derek!" Cooper snapped, tossing the ball back toward him. "Focus, pup!"

Derek cursed under his breath, trying to shake the image of Ryan's smirk from his mind. But the harder he tried to focus, the more his thoughts spiraled. What had Ryan meant by see you after practice? Was it just a casual remark, or was there something more? Derek's chest tightened with the anxiety of not knowing, his distraction growing with each passing minute. The coach, a burly bear named Coach Miller, blew the whistle to start a new drill. Derek tried to focus, but his body wasn't responding the way it normally did. His movements felt clumsy, sluggish; his large feet felt bigger than normal.

As they moved into the next drill, Derek was supposed to track his teammate's run, but his focus slipped. By the time he reacted, the ball had already been intercepted. Coach Miller's whistle blared.

"Derek, wake up! You're behind every play!" the bear snapped, his voice carrying across the field.

Derek nodded quickly, embarrassed, trying to refocus. But it wasn't working. His mind was still on Ryan, on the Speedo, on that smile. By the third drill, Derek's frustration had boiled over. He went in too hard during a scrimmage, body-checking Cooper unnecessarily as they fought for the ball. Cooper hit the ground with a loud thud, glaring up at Derek.

"Derek, what the hell?" Cooper growled, brushing himself off as he got back on his feet. The other players turned to look, and Derek felt heat rise to his face under his fur.

Before Derek could apologize, Coach Miller's whistle rang out sharply across the field. "That's enough, Derek!" the bear barked. "You're all over the place. Hit the showers. Get yourself together before tomorrow's workout."

Derek's face flushed beneath his fur, embarrassment and frustration boiling over. He muttered another apology to Cooper before trudging off the field, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

Back in the locker room, Derek felt the cool air hit his damp fur as he pulled off his cleats and socks. The swim team was finishing up their session, the last few swimmers packing their bags and heading out. Normally, by the time soccer practice ended, the swim team would already be long gone, so Derek rarely saw them after practice. But today was different. As the last swimmer left, Derek walked over to his locker and stripped off his cleats and socks, then peeled off his sweaty jersey. He was still fuming with himself, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

His jersey clung to his chest, soaked with sweat. He tugged it off, and the sharp smell of his own sweat filled the air. At first, he grimaced at the musky scent, turning his snout to his pit out of instinct. It was strong--too strong. The scent of exertion and frustration clung to him, making him wince. But as much as he hated the smell, a strange flicker of arousal stirred inside him. The raw, animalistic scent of his own body mixed with the adrenaline from practice sent a jolt through him. Gods, what's wrong with me?

He threw the jersey into his locker and stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy as he stared at his reflection in the metal. His fur was matted from sweat, his body still tense from the rough practice. The locker room felt quieter than usual, the absence of his teammates making him feel exposed, vulnerable.

He kicked his gear into his locker, stripped down to his shorts and jockstrap, letting the cool damp air brush against his fur. Normally, he wouldn't care about being the first one in the shower, but today felt different. His mind was still clouded with thoughts of Ryan--of the confusing, frustrating comments, of the way his body had looked, damp and toned in that snug Speedo.

As Derek grabbed his towel and headed toward the showers, the scent of chlorine still lingered faintly in the air, reminding him of the swim team, of Ryan. The locker room echoed with the soft patter of his bare feet on the tiles as he made his way to the showers. It was strange to be in here so early, alone, without the usual noise of the soccer team.

As he approached the showers, the lingering scent of chlorine told him that the swim team had just finished up. Normally, they would be long gone by now, but today, Derek found himself here alone, with the remnants of their presence still hanging in the air. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his thoughts a tangled mess as he stepped into a stall. The water hissed as it hit the tiles, and Derek let the warm spray wash over his fur. But even as the water soaked into him, he couldn't shake the tight knot of confusion and desire that had been building in his chest all day.

The warm water cascaded over Derek's fur as he stood under the showerhead, the steady hiss of the spray filling the empty locker room. His fingers worked shampoo into his hair, but his thoughts drifted back to Ryan and to the tangled confusion he felt. Then, as always, his mind wandered back to high school.

Natalie.

He remembered that night after the dance, when they had shared their awkward kiss. He had felt so out of place, stiff and tense under her touch. The kiss had lasted too long, dragging on in uncomfortable silence. When she pulled away, her smile was polite but didn't reach her eyes. She hadn't said anything, but he knew she felt rejected. And she was right--he hadn't felt what he was supposed to. He had stood there, unsure of why he hadn't felt anything, confused by the disconnect between what was supposed to happen and what he actually felt.

Derek opened his eyes, shaking the memory, but the feelings lingered. He scrubbed his armpits, the smell of his sweat mingling with the steam. This time, when the musky scent hit him, there was no grimace. Instead, he sniffed again, a low growl slipping from his throat before he could stop himself. The sound shocked him, and he froze, his ears twitching in the empty shower. What the hell? The growl had come from deep inside, and it unsettled him. He quickly rinsed off the soap, trying to wash away the strange moment, but the feelings stayed with him.

As he soaped up his chest and abs, Derek's fingers moved over the firm muscles beneath his wet fur. The water slicked his fur back, and the thick suds slid down his body, following the hard lines of his frame. The sensation was soothing, and for a brief moment, he let himself relax, the water washing away the tension in his muscles.

But as he moved lower, his insecurities crept in.

His feet had always been the source of so many jokes, even back in high school. People couldn't get over how big they were--big, even for a husky. "Big feet, big..." they'd snicker, implying other things were supposed to be big too. But Derek didn't feel like he measured up. His feet were massive, but he wasn't. He was 16 centimetres down there--not small by any means, but compared to his hulking paws, it felt inadequate. The teasing from his classmates had always made it worse, leaving him with an uncomfortable gap between what they expected and how he really felt about himself.

He bent down to soap his large paws, working the lather into the soft pads. He got lost in the act, scrubbing each toe, working the soap between the pads, making sure to clean them thoroughly. His fingers traced the edges of his large paws, moving slowly as he focused on every inch of them.

Eventually, Derek stood back up, the water rinsing the suds from his legs as he moved his hands lower. As he began to wash his nether regions, his touch became more deliberate, almost clinical. He began with his sheath, carefully washing around it before retracting his penis to clean thoroughly. At 16 cm, he knew he wasn't small, but the nagging feeling of inadequacy lingered. His massive paws made him feel like he should be bigger, and that thought always gnawed at him. He worked quickly but thoroughly, the warm water flowing over his low-hanging balls as he cleaned them carefully. They were heavy in his hand, the heat of the water making them hang even lower than usual.

His hands moved to his backside, washing quickly but efficiently. He felt a slight chill run up his spine as his fingers brushed around his hole, but he didn't linger, just finished the task before rinsing off the last of the soap. No matter how thoroughly he washed, no matter how clean his body felt, the feelings of inadequacy still stuck with him.

With a final sigh, Derek turned off the water, feeling the cool air of the locker room hit his wet fur. The husky grabbed his towel and stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind.

But then he heard it. The sound of another shower.

Derek froze, his ears twitching as he realized he wasn't alone. He had thought the locker room was empty, but the faint sound of water hitting the tiles from across the room told him otherwise. He glanced around the corner and spotted the faint outline of another figure through the partially drawn curtain of the stall across from his. His heart started to race again, and this time, it wasn't because of practice or Ryan. He hadn't noticed anyone else when he came in, but now, he wasn't sure what to do. The sound of the other shower turning off sent a jolt through Derek's body. His heart skipped a beat, and before he could think, panic set in. He dropped his towel, his mind racing. I need to get out of here. Without a second thought, he scurried back to his locker, his breath quickening as he fumbled to open it. His hands shook as he grabbed his clothes, his nerves on edge, afraid whoever had been in the other shower would step out any second.

His first instinct was to get dressed quickly, but as he pulled out a clean jockstrap, he paused. Jockstraps were the only kind of underwear he ever wore--both on and off the field. He liked the way they felt, how they gave him freedom of movement without the bulk of traditional underwear. There was something secure about the way the straps hugged his hips, lifting and supporting him. Plus, he'd never been a fan of anything too constricting. Jockstraps felt like the perfect balance--functional, comfortable, and, though he didn't often admit it to himself, they made him feel confident in a way other clothes didn't. Derek quickly slipped the jock on, feeling the familiar fit as the straps wrapped around his thighs. The smooth fabric cupped him perfectly, making him feel just a bit more in control--just enough to calm the panicked flutter in his chest. But he wasn't calm for long.

As he hastily shoved the rest of his gear into his bag, he realized something. My towel. He'd left it back by the shower in his rush to get dressed. He groaned, glancing nervously over his shoulder. He had no choice but to go back. He couldn't just leave it there, especially if someone else was still nearby. Taking a deep breath, Derek hurried back toward the shower area, trying to make as little noise as possible. His footsteps echoed faintly against the tiles as he made his way down the row, his eyes scanning for his towel. He spotted it near the far end of the showers, hanging limp and forgotten where he had dropped it earlier. He was about to reach for it when he caught something out of the corner of his eye--movement.

He froze.

Through the partially open curtain of the stall, Derek saw Ryan.

At first, he thought Ryan was just finishing up his shower, but then he saw the way Ryan's hand moved--slow, deliberate, stroking himself with a confident rhythm. Derek's breath hitched, and his heart pounded in his chest as he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to look away. Ryan was completely absorbed in what he was doing, his head tipped back slightly, eyes closed, his other hand braced against the tile wall for support. The sound of his low, soft breaths filled the quiet space, and Derek's ears twitched, picking up on every little noise. Ryan's body glistened in the dim light, droplets of water still trailing down his toned chest and abs, his hand moving with purpose as he pleasured himself. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying every second of it, lost in the moment.

Derek's face burned, heat flooding through him as he realized what he was witnessing. His first instinct was to turn away, to leave, to pretend he hadn't seen anything--but he couldn't. He was mesmerized. His eyes followed the movement of Ryan's hand, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke, the faint, breathy sounds escaping his lips. Derek's heart pounded louder in his ears, the rush of adrenaline mixing with something else--something he couldn't name but couldn't ignore. He stood there, frozen, his body buzzing with a strange mix of panic, excitement, and guilt. He knew he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

The humidity in the shower room hung heavy in the air, thick like a layer of fog. The walls and floor were slick with moisture, the steam clinging to every surface, making it feel like the room itself was breathing. Derek could feel the damp heat pressing in on him as he stood there, frozen, his eyes locked on Ryan through the partially open curtain. At first, he had just been trying to grab his towel and leave, but now, all thoughts of leaving had vanished. Ryan's hand moved in slow, rhythmic strokes, his wet fist sliding over his cock with a practiced ease. The soft, rhythmic sounds of fapping mixed with the light, playful yipping sounds escaping Ryan's throat as he lost himself in his own pleasure. Derek couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The sight of Ryan--his toned, wet body, the water droplets still trailing down his chest, the way his balls bounced gently with each stroke--was too much.

Derek's heart raced, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as his body reacted instantly to what he was seeing. His cock hardened painfully fast, straining against the tight confines of his jockstrap. He could feel the slick wetness already soaking through the fabric, precum leaking heavily and soaking his fresh jock until it clung to him like a second skin. His hands trembled as he clutched the towel tighter, every nerve in his body on fire, buzzing with the overwhelming mix of arousal and panic. He watched, transfixed, as Ryan's hand moved faster, his fist tightening around himself, the sounds of wet flesh and the soft slap of his balls echoing in the steamy room. Ryan's head tipped back, his breathing growing more ragged, lost in the rhythm of his own delight. Derek could barely contain the rush of emotions crashing through him. His own arousal surged, the pressure building in his loins as his leaking cock strained harder, twitching uncontrollably in his jock.

Then, without warning, Ryan's eyes opened.

For a split second, Derek thought he would stop, would look away in embarrassment. But he didn't. Ryan's purple eyes locked onto Derek's, and instead of stopping, the fox grinned, his gaze hungry, wanton. He didn't miss a beat, continuing to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving Derek's as he pumped his fist with increasing intensity. The air between them felt electric, the tension thick enough to choke on. Derek's mind went blank, overwhelmed by the sight, by the intensity of Ryan's gaze, by the raw, primal lust that filled the air.

Derek couldn't hold back any longer. His body trembled, a wave of sensations crashing over him that he hadn't fully experienced before. His knees buckled, and his breath hitched as a powerful orgasm took control of him, completely overwhelming him. His cock throbbed hard, and he gasped, moaning audibly as his release surged through him. His jockstrap, already soaked with precum, was quickly flooded with the hot, sticky mess of his untouched orgasm. He came harder than he ever had before, his body convulsing, trembling with each wave of pleasure that racked him. He was barely aware of his surroundings, lost in the intensity of his release. But through the haze of pleasure, he kept his eyes on Ryan, watching as the fox's strokes grew faster, more urgent. Ryan's breath hitched, his body tensing, and with one final thrust of his hips, he came, hard, his seed spilling across the tile walls of the shower. He never broke eye contact, his gaze burning into Derek's as his own orgasm hit him with full force.

Derek could barely stand, his knees weak, his heart pounding as the last waves of his orgasm faded. His jockstrap was soaked--not just damp, but utterly drenched, the thin fabric clinging to him, slick and sticky with thick globs of cum that had seeped through, leaving obvious, messy stains. The husky trembled, completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. The steam in the room felt even thicker now, the air heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and something else--something that made Derek's head spin and his legs feel like jelly. Then one heavy glob of cum dripped free, breaking away from the fabric and falling with a soft, wet splatter onto the tile floor. Derek's breath caught, his entire body tensing. There was no hiding it now.

Ryan's eyes flicked down immediately, catching the fresh mess glistening at Derek's feet. A slow, knowing smirk curled at his lips. Derek could barely stand, his knees weak, his heart pounding as the last waves of his orgasm shuddered through him.

He had just come untouched, right in front of Ryan. And Ryan... Ryan had seen everything.

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