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One's Learned Preferences

Part 2

For Dreixes

By Draconicon

Sibylle remembered going back to her dorm and conking out. The Alpine Ibex had been all but sure that she would be burying her nose in her books again after getting back to her dorm, but the lecture hall and everything that had happened there had done a number on her. As she woke, a vague memory of stumbling through her door, fumbling for her books before giving up, followed by flopping out on the bed was all that remained of the previous day after the first lecture.

The Ibex groaned as she lifted bleary eyes from her pillow, the familiar dry mouth of a too-long sleep hitting her hard. She fumbled around for the water bottle that she kept at her bedside, finding the metal side and pulling it to her lips. One good drink was enough to sate the worst of the thirst, at the least, and she was able to sit up after that.

She stank. Not to the point of reeking yet, but she stank compared to normal sleeps. She lifted her uniform to her nose, took a breath -

"Mmmph...he permeates everything..."

The Ibex knew that there had to be some sort of reason behind that. After all, even among the ferals, nobody's scent was that permeating. Well, perhaps with the exception of skunks, but that wasn't pheromones. That was a defense mechanism, a nose-burning stink that actually pushed people away rather than invited them in. The fact that the civet cat professor had a smell almost as strong - though not nearly so unpleasant - was strange, and something she meant to ask about later.

For now, though, she needed a shower.

The Ibex dragged herself from bed, wearing no more than a pair of panties. The white cotton stood out against the dark gray fur that covered the rest of her body, and since she had yet to put her top back on, she actually looked like she had curves. Not many, admittedly, and certainly nothing compared to that top-heavy rabbit that had made her blush so hard yesterday, but some. She had enough to touch, to grope a little, even if it didn't go far enough to grab most males.

She shook her head, grabbing a clean pair of panties and a fresh-washed uniform. At least she could shower and approach today as a clean, fresh version of herself, rather than the bleary-eyed, sweat-stained version that had come within a hair's-breadth of humiliating herself.

As she walked down the hallway between the collected dorms and the other parts of the building, she realized that there was a different sort of feeling to the passage this time. She wasn't sure what until she suffered a small sneeze. It was the snort just after that got her thinking.

"Huh...huuuuuuuh..."

Sibylle walked ahead more absently, her mind returning to the odd sort of lecture that she'd received the day before. The idea that pheromones and different types of musk scents could hit so hard socially had already made sense, but now that she was thinking about it, she could make out how it actually happened. The scents in the hallway were faint, less powerful than what wild animals would be putting out, but there was still something if you were paying attention.

They were all girls in the dorm, admittedly, but even girls fingered themselves, masturbated, got off. That smell was usually too faint to notice, but that, combined with the general sweat of the day, meant that there was usual a communal pheromone contribution in the hallway. As one person after another went to the shower over the course of days, weeks, months, their bodies slowly claimed the passage as theirs, standing out against the pack or group smells that would have claimed other dorms. It was honestly rather fascinating how a walk of shame could turn into something oddly wholesome in its own way.

Of course, there were other scents, too, and some were far more recent. She passed by one room, and was immediately struck by a different sort of smell, one that was both somewhat sexual and yet, at the same time, challenging. She paused, leaning against the closed door, imitating what she'd seen some of the canines do around the campus. She breathed in slowly, taking her time to really suck in the scent markers around it, making sure to really fill her nose and lungs with it.

It was like someone that had spent all night grinding, pleasuring themselves, pushing themselves as hard as they could in bed, but there was something more to it. While the night-sweat smell was definitely strong, too, there was an ink-scent, something of a pen mixed with body, and it felt almost like a declaration of...

Of supremacy?

Of someone else staking a claim?

She didn't understand how it worked well enough yet, but there was a scent there that tweaked at her, and she was determined to figure out what it was later. She shook her head and continued on.

The twisted, combined scents of all the other females in the dorm came to a head at the bathroom, and as she stepped inside, the scent trail died. She had half-expected it to be strongest here, but no. This was where the scent came to be washed off, where the pheromones were blasted down by chemicals and more. Of course, this would be the case, she realized. If any of them had a dominant scent here, it would make it far more uncomfortable for any of the rest of them to use it. It was no different to an animal marking territory; it didn't bother them, but would make others feel wrong about being there. In this case, more through stink than musk, but the principle stood.

She was so lost in the theory and the ideas coming through from the possibilities that just the first lecture opened that she barely paid attention to the whole washing up part of things. She was on auto-pilot, only somewhat aware of dressing up again after getting out of the shower, and even then, she didn't entirely 'wake up' until she reached her dorm room again.

The smell there was different to the hallway. It was getting a bit strong, strong enough to make her think that she should open a window when she got back from her other modules today, but there was something endearing about it. Something very home-y.

Well, it's my scent. My den. I've been slowly marking it with the scent of me, so I guess that makes sense...

But there was an invader, a smell that stood out against all the others. She knelt down by the discarded uniform from the day before, shaking her head at it. That smell, the bitter-hot smell that had soaked into it as Professor Richter Hahn walked by, had yet to fade. It didn't smell oppressive, though. Instead, it smelled almost like...

Well, she blushed to think of it, but it smelled almost like sex. Like need. Like a rut and a hump in the back alleys.

She tossed it into the hamper, doing her best to put it out of her mind. Worst came to worst, she would do an early laundry run later, but for now, she had other things to think about. No matter how fascinating Sexual Evolutions was, she needed to have an open mind for all her other classes, too. No point in failing just because she was starting to get a little fascination with her teacher.

Not that she was.

Right?

Sibylle was halfway across the grounds of the University of Open Minds when she smelled something on the air. The Ibex stopped in her tracks, her nostrils flaring further as the bitter-hot smell hit her again, and she instantly recognized the source. It could only come from one person.

She whipped her head around, staring at the civet cat in his wheelchair on the other side of the plaza. He was in mid-conversation with another female - a rabbit, and not his wife, either - who was putting off a different scent. Sibylle couldn't believe the world of information that had opened up to her just by allowing those smells through, and she embraced it with all due attention.

It burned in the air, that scent, and it was strong enough that she barely had a chance to interpret it - or try to - before the source was already moving on. The rabbit was hustling off, making her way to another class, and Professor Richter was wheeling himself back into the building just behind him. It wasn't the lecture hall, but was a building of offices. Back to his office, perhaps?

She didn't know. She was more focused on that other scent. It was hot, but in a different way, with a hint of spice and metal attached to it. Almost like a blood-smell, but not quite that, either. It was information overload, too much to process, but at the same time, a welcome challenge. She rubbed the side of her head, trying to sort through it and put a term or definition to the scent, but the most that she managed was 'rival.' Why rival? She didn't know, but it was there.

Shaking her head, she looked back down her intended path, only to look back at the closing door. Her professor...

I'm not interested in that.

Even if the lecture yesterday had verged on taking things further than she actually wanted, Sibylle was sure that she wasn't interested in that. The very idea of putting herself on offer to her teacher purely out of the pheromones that they were putting off - which could be lying, disconnected from what their minds actually wanted - was certainly out of bounds. She didn't even want to fuck her teacher.

At least, she was pretty sure she didn't.

But at the same time, she was getting lost, and getting lost quickly in this sea of new information that she didn't entirely know how to interpret. Shaking her head, she pulled her phone from her purse, tapping the screen a few times until it dialed out. She held it to her head, and two rings later, her friend answered.

"Yello?"

"Sandra, you're still going to Research Methodology, right?"

"Yeaaaaah..."

"Would you mind copying your notes so I that I can have a set?"

"...You're skiving?"

"I have something I need to check with my other module."

"You ARE skiving. Holy shit."

"It's not skiving. It's just...prioritizing."

"You never do this. What's going on?"

"Look. I just need the notes today, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, but you owe me answers later. I'll email them over when we finish."

"Thanks."

She ended the call. Sandra was a bit of a gossip - not the worst of them, but definitely not someone that you told anything serious to if you didn't want everyone to find out. That said, it also meant that she retained and transmitted information better than most people. That was the thing that most people forgot about gossips; they had the bad side, and the good side. There were few better for getting information on a class that you had missed, and so they made for good friends.

Usually.

Mostly.

Kind of.

It was a transactional sort of thing, with Sibylle getting a good back-up for classes that illness forced her to skip, and Sandra got someone that understood how to fake an interest until it was real, allowing the jerboa girl to actually have someone that paid attention to her various ramblings.

It worked out, though, even if they weren't actually that close.

That settled, she hustled over to the office building. Most of the doors were closed, but one at the end of the hall, near the front door, was open. The scent coming from it was enough to make her nose burn, and she could hear fans running from inside as well as the soft squeak and rattle of the wheelchair moving around. He was clearly doing something in there, and it was clearly his office.

She was suddenly nervous, and it took her a moment to realize why. Despite the fact that he was in a wheelchair, she realized that the prey part of her mind was afraid to enter the 'den' of someone that was of a more predatory species. It locked up, not wanting to intrude on someone that might have been related to someone that would have eaten her ancestors.

That's something worthy of a thesis paper right there; the interpersonal relationships of the office when unconscious scents keep prey from reporting to pred bosses.

Shaking her head, she was able to step past that with a little bit more conscious awareness and stepped into the office proper.

Almost immediately she was assaulted by that bitter-hot smell, unable to think of anything but it for a moment as she stood in the doorway. Her eyes didn't exactly water, but her head went funny, fuzzy, almost like there was something else covering her thoughts and suppressing them.

She shook her head as Professor Richter turned to face her. He smiled as he folded his hands over his lap, a pile of books already occupying it.

"Ms. Weber. I am surprised; is something the matter?"

"No. Well, not quite. I mean, it's hard to describe."

"Ah. Well. I would normally offer to talk about it, but I do insist on appointments for such things."

"You - no other professor I have does that."

"Most professors do not deal with sensitive topics such as I do. And besides, I believe you would prefer privacy, a lack of interruptions for what is on your mind?"

She didn't have to consider that for long. Just the memory of what had struck her elsewhere was enough to remind her of the risks if she actually voiced it around other people. She nodded.

"However, you may walk and talk with me. I can make time as I go to my next lecture."

"Thank you, Professor Richter."

"Now, what is the matter?" he asked, reaching for more of his books.

"I, um, might be dealing with a little information overload at the moment," Sibylle admitted, making herself useful by grabbing a bookbag for him and holding it open. He nodded his thanks, depositing the books inside as they talked. "I spent a lot of time getting into the required reading for the course -"

"A fact that pleases me greatly, fraulein."

"I'm glad, sir. But, um, there's been a bit of a..."

"You are aware of more of the world, and you are trying to untangle its mysteries with less information than you would ideally like to have. There are no translation guides for scents as there are for languages, cultures, or histories. You must untangle it through experience, yes?"

"That...that's pretty much the long and short of it, yes."

"It is a difficult task, though not insurmountable."

"Does this happen often? I mean, your students getting a little...you know, lost?"

"They are exposed to a world that their upbringing has, more often than not, conditioned them to ignore on a conscious level. There is little to be done about that, at first, save to continue exposing them to it. To ignore it does them no good. Only through exposure, through repeated experiences, can it slowly come into focus for them."

"Oh."

"Ah. You were hoping for an easy answer, fraulein?"

"I mean...that, or just an idea of what some of this...stuff...means."

"Well, we have time. Perhaps I can interpret a few of the basic scents for you."

"I would really appreciate that."

"If you would?"

"Would what?" Sibylle asked, blinking.

"Help me with getting there. I can make it in my chair, but it would be helpful if you would push me along."

"...Are you sure? I mean, the last I saw, your wife -"

"She enjoys helping, but it is not as if she is required to be there at all times. She has her life, and I have mine. And it would hardly be useful to ask her to leave her job behind to push me along all the time. Would you mind, fraulein?"

"I...sure."

She walked behind him, and it was as if his scent got even stronger. She didn't know how, but it did, burning at her nostrils and making her think of nothing but the civet cat just in front of her. Again, it wasn't a painful smell, or a bad one, but it was all but overwhelming, as if he had taken possession of the entire room by his mere presence. It felt as if his scent would cling to her from head to toe, and that she'd need more than a shower to get rid of it just from being near him.

And she was aware, vaguely, of the pressure that scent put on her mind, how easy it was to just give in, and how it affected her in other ways.

Other, wet ways.

She pressed her legs tightly together as she stood behind him, letting him get situated before pushing him forward. He smiled back at her.

"Thank you. I can tell this is not easy for you, but...Hmm. I do not make this offer often, but would you care to sit in on my lecture? It is a more practical, and likely more helpful, stage of the lessons that you are attending now."

"If it can clear some of this up, I'd really appreciate it."

"Splendid. Then off we go."

It wasn't until they had left the building and were making their way across the grounds that Sibylle realized that she hadn't even asked her questions, let alone gotten an answer. Yet, she felt no need to push.

That should have been a warning, in hindsight.

She was in and out of coherence as she walked behind the wheelchair, and only stopped being completely out of it when she wheeled it up to the front of the new lecture hall. Most of the other people in it had already split into pairs, and she wondered if this was something that would be put into practice with her own class. Sibylle looked back at the students, and the first thing she noticed was that they were completely still, almost as if spellbound by the presence of their professor. It was...weird, to say the least, and enough to send a shiver down her spine as he spoke.

"Students, today we begin Sexual Evolutions 213."

Next semester's module, then, she thought.

"As you may remember, in the last module you learned how to be aware of the world around you, of the scents that mark this world, of the pheromones that we put out, and the overall power of that which most just settle on calling 'musk.' As we all know, there is much more to it than that.

"Today, you will make a connection between the scent and something more tactile, more 'real.' Fraulein Weber, if you wouldn't mind revealing the lesson title?"

"Yes, Professor."

The Ibex turned, pulling at the covering over the whiteboard. She felt like she was moving mechanically, doing something almost by remote control rather than of her own free will. She didn't understand it, but it was still happening, still driving her and pushing her. The Ibex felt hot, and more than slightly wet between her thighs. Why? There was nothing happening. She wasn't in heat. What was happening to her?

She pulled the curtain aside.

"Sexual Dominance through Size-Associated Scent," Professor Richter said, nodding back at the board. "Now, what might that mean, hmm?"

There were no clear answers. Males and females alike through the room were less than vocal, and those that were muttered rather than spoke an answer loud enough to hear. Sibylle looked around, trying to puzzle through the difference between this class and hers.

Eventually, the civet cat chuckled, waving her forward. She stood beside the teacher.

"Ms. Weber. If you would look around the room, I believe that you might start picking up a hint of what I am talking about. If you would?"

She was surprised that he was offering her so many chances to speak in a class that she hadn't even earned her way into just yet, but she wasn't going to turn down the chance to learn. Even with the scent pushing down on her brain, she still had a sharp enough mind to figure something out, surely.

She panned her eyes around the room at the other students, taking in those that were standing together and those that were split apart. In each case, she noticed several things, such as the size differential between each pairing - considerable, considering that those closest in size were still a foot apart in height - but there was more to it than that. She took a second look, narrowing her eyes with as much focus as she could summon, only to go wide-eyed immediately after.

"Unequal genetics," she said.

"That is correct, fraulein, though perhaps a less clinical and more kind term may be used," Professor Richter said. "At our base, our society was governed by the pure principles of evolution: the weak and inefficient would die out, and the efficient and the survivors would thrive, passing on their genetics to those that came after them. It was a simple evolutionary line to follow; if you survived, the world that came afterward would more resemble yourself. If you did not, the world would pass you by.

"As the years went on and technology improved the lives of most, if not everyone, biological needs began to change. It shifted from seeking the most powerful or the most intelligent mate to finding someone that satiated the whims of leisure. There was no longer a need to have someone that would fight off the world, that would protect the cubs, that would be able to provide. The world was sufficient unto that.

"In such a world, what would replace requirement?" Professor Richter asked.

"Desire," Sibylle said.

"Correct, fraulein. Desire replaced requirement, and in so doing, began the slow rewiring of our minds to accept different markers, different indicators from our subconscious. Our minds stopped looking for the pheromone signals that would lead us to a partner that would be strong, or that would be intelligent, but rather brought us to those that would give us indulgence, pleasure. Did it matter if they were a perfect suit? No, for the world would make up the difference.

"This is the theory that I subscribe to, personally, as to why we have as many interspecies couples and new hybrids in the world. It is not that they are better, more genetically diverse in a way that enhances or propagates any species, but rather that we have reached a point where our bodies and minds have become hardwired to seek things that are not necessarily inherently good for us, but yet still bring us happiness."

"Does that mean that we're making the world worse, professor?" one of the students asked.

"It is a debate for the ages whether we make the world worse by indulging ourselves, but we certainly make ourselves better seeking happiness than we do seeking only the best of matches."

Sibylle understood that. There was only so much that any one person could do for themselves when it came to maintaining happiness. In the past, history had shown that being forced to rely on another for sustenance was a stopgap, something that needed to be moved past as soon as possible. Too often, it left one at a disadvantage, and that meant that the one reliant on the other had no power moving forward, no chance to shift their situation because they must always appease the one that kept them fed, housed, supplied with what they needed merely to live.

Having their minds altered over time to look for something other than that seemed all to the better, at least for her. At least this way, they were able to seek happiness rather than being guided to those that were only going to hurt them.

"Now, as desire replaced requirement, the body began to learn the pheromone markers that would bring such things. The simplest thing to seek, or rather, the simplest thing that was easily detectable, would have been the size of a suitable partner. While the pheromones produced by different species would always have a different chemical make-up, the amount of pheromones released, as well as their overall strength, would generally match up to the size of the one producing it. We learn to look for it, and seek out larger, better-endowed lovers for the indulgence of taking our pleasure from them."

"P-Professor..." Sibylle blushed, reaching up to squeeze one horn as she did. "Are...are you saying that -"

"Fraulein, if you would lift my blanket?"

She felt as if she had been tugged into some sort of trap, but the scent, the situation, and more pulled her down to her knees at the side of the wheelchair. Sibylle was sure that this was just in her head, that they weren't going this far, but even as she reached for the edge of the blanket, something told her that she had just reached the point of no return. Something was going to happen, and it would involve her.

After all, the whole room was partnered up, but the professor had been alone.

Except for her.

Such were the thoughts going through her head as she lifted the edge of the blanket. She did it fast, not wanting to chicken out in the middle of unveiling him, but even doing it as fast as she could didn't prepare her for what was revealed.

Professor Richter's balls ran down to his ankles, so large and heavy that there was no way in hell that they could be real. Yet, even as she thought that, she felt them, and they were warm, and churning. She could feel them pulsing and rolling with seed just as much as she might have felt the belly of a pregnant woman rolling slightly with child. She gasped at the feeling of heat from them, still pulling the blanket up, dragging it further and further from the civet cat's ankles.

Further and further the blanket wet, and further and further her mind melted from the sweat and pheromone-rich moisture that clung to his sac. There was something about it that just melted her thoughts, making her think less and less of the man attached to them and more just that sac itself, and how much it would fill her to the brim if she were to sit on his cock, if she were to allow herself the pleasure of being under him for even a short time. The theory that he had put out, the idea that the body had been rewired to look for something bigger, better, more indulgent, faded away and was replaced by nothing but the utter desire to take it.

She was up to his calves before she found his cock, and even then, the top of them. Compared to his balls, perhaps his shaft looked a little on the meager side, but she was looking at something that was over a foot long on a species that usually topped out around four inches. Even then, it was soft, not hard, and she could only imagine how it would stuff someone if it was any bigger than it was at that moment. She stared at the head as his foreskin rolled back, exposing a smooth top that was already drenched as she pulled the blanket further and further back from it.

"Holy..."

She barely heard her own voice, only able to stare, to blink, to gasp at the sheer scope of the thing. How was he able to think with this between his legs? How was he able to do anything with this between his legs?

And as it was exposed, the bitter-hot scent that she'd been smelling since meeting him grew into a firestorm of musk. She could not think at all, only breathe it in as she imagined how much she wanted to feel that thing inside of her, how badly her body wanted to submit and indulge in the raw size play that this thing offered. And it was a thing, not a cock. A cock did not get this big, this fragrant, or this enticing just to look at. A cock did not melt the mind like this.

As the Ibex stared at the shaft, the professor continued to lecture, his voice barely cutting through the haze as the other students started stripping down as well. She was vaguely aware that something was happening out there, that the other students were likewise mismatched by size, with either the male or the female having a particularly large endowment either between their legs or elsewhere. Size mattered in this lesson, and the professor had arranged everything for size to be a thing.

"Of course, we cannot merely assume that we will find large individuals in our own species. This is, again, part of the current interspecies movement between various different cultures. Our subconscious needs to indulge are always pushing us to find something, someone, that can meet our own wants and whims. While our minds are not yet conscious of the things that we want, our bodies are, and they are as apt to transmit those desires as we are to receive them."

Transmit...desires?

"For example. Fraulein Weber here has been releasing many pheromones in the last few days, expressing interest, confusion, and currently, arousal. There is every possibility that she has an unspoken need to be under someone larger than her, or at least, someone in authority."

I what?

"It could be that this is a response of a prey species before a predator, or something akin to a surrender response by a species that is completely overwhelmed. It may be that she is genuinely interested in enjoying fun with another species, being stretched by someone large, or it may be that she has a predilection for scent. There are many possibilities, for the language of pheromones is hardly exact just yet. However, the main thing to know is that, subconsciously, she has already consented. What is left is to ensure that the rest of her does, which seems about to happen."

Oh god...oh god...

She was, she realized. The Ibex had already reached under her skirt, running her hand to her sex, pressing her panties in. She was as wet as could be, and she honestly didn't know what else she could say besides 'fuck me'. The audience that was the other students barely mattered to her at that moment, nor did the possibility of this spreading through the school. UOM was a place of debauchery, the public said. It turned out that they didn't know the half of it.

"Fraulein Weber."

She looked up from his dark-skinned cock, past balls that were larger than anything that she had ever seen on a living being before. Was he impossibly large? Yes. Did she want it? More than she had conscious words to express. Did she understand why? Aside from his theory, not at all.

It didn't matter.

She needed it.

She needed him.

"Fraulein Weber. You want this?"

"...Yes..."

"Then you would be best served to be naked for it."

Yes. Naked. That way she would still have clothes to wear as she left the room. With what remained of a more sober, rapidly-fading intellectual consciousness, she stood up and started taking off her clothes.

For all that he had teased and intimated that they were going to be doing this whether she wanted to or not, there was none of the lustful leers that she was used to seeing from her fellow students. Instead, there was only a curious tilt of his head, as if Professor Richter had seen this many, many times before, and she was only the latest 'victim' of the scent infecting the air around him.

She wondered how many others had been here.

She wondered if she'd be better than them.

And then, she wondered about very little at all.

The End

Summary: Sibylle has an interesting night, wakes up with more of a scent awareness, and then goes to talk to her teacher again.

Tags: F/solo, M/F, Nudity, Hyper, Civet Cat, Musk, College, Hyper Casual Sex, Pheromones, Confusion, Ibex, Various Species, Hypnosis, Musknosis, Series,