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At the beginning of every semester, I get prerequisite rosters. I rarely read them. I used to go through them carefully, looking at the names of students who had registered for my courses, and more importantly, how they did in the prerequisite classes. I soon found, however, that students who were under prepared would quickly identify themselves in unmistakable ways. It just seemed like too much work to continue reading the rosters and dropping the unprepared when I could convince them to drop themselves.

There is also the money angle. While my salary as a college educator sustains me easily, I will accept bribes, corrupt old lizard that I am. I do have standards; I don't simply give grades away. I allow students to buy their second chance, their third chance, and so forth, to complete assignments or pass exams. If they still can't pass at the end, then that's their tough luck. I have SOME standards.

I also have a habit that has earned me banishment from several other schools of high rank. I identify students with potential, potential that shines out, but will sadly go unfulfilled because of distractions or circumstance dragging them down. I take on these personal projects and ensure their success in return for certain rewards. For reasons you can surely understand, this practice of mine flattens some ears and raises some hackles..you name the threat display, I've probably seen it.

Please forgive my use of the word 'project'; it is a euphemism. I noted their talents, propositioned them, and did what I could for their academic careers in exchange for them living with me and providing certain non-monetary..comforts. Aah, again with the euphemisms--we were lovers. I tutored them in the subjects I taught, and using my connections, constructed for their benefit a massive library of instructors editions in all other topics. I was also able to see to it that they recieved modest financial aid and had no other distractions save working towards becoming scholars, and I'm proud of them, and others I've had at other schools.

And at the beginning of this year, I found another reason to not read the prereq rosters, that being a Mr. Rasmus Brunk, my current cohabitant. If I was still in the habit of purging studens according to those rosters, we likely would never have met.

It had been a bittersweet summer, since I had lost my first two projects in my latest home, the town of Tischwood. Amoyre Kaltstein, my treasured gryphoness, left at the end of the schoolyear to study biomechanical engineering at a large technical school. I shall deeply miss her, but I rather think I will see her again. The other, a stocky and short equine fellow by the name of Don Bold, seems to frustrate my best intentions by choosing to remain in this town, wasting his talents by setting his heart on the study of law. He is currently saving his money for a big move to a prominent law school, and maintains what seems to be on the surface a clean and respectable bachelor pad.

I'm certain that if you live in this town, you recognize Rasmus's last name. Anyone coming to my home these days would silently nod to themselves, saying 'Ah, of course' when they see my new shelves in my personal library built into the walls, the new tiles in the main hallway, and various other improvements to the house, compliments of Brunk Lumber and Hardware. Perhaps it's best if that company was unaware of how much work was being done there. I'm above common theft, but I worry that Rasmus is not, yet.

Rasmus had the build of every bull in his family..perhaps every bull in the world. They aren't known for strength and endurance for nothing. I'm a good six feet tall, much longer if you measure from my snout to my tailtip. He's close to seven, not counting the broad arc of his pale white horns, sometimes with little painted markings, as style and fashion dictate. His very broad shoulders and strong arms could, I'm sure, lift another of the same size and stature as himself high above his head. He certainly doesn't have trouble lifting me.

The whole Brunk family sports black and white fur in what seems to be a random, spotty pattern..mostly black. I suppose that makes him and I somewhat of a match, since I am covered with black and white, though in scales, not fur. He has a long white streak down the center of his nose, unique to him, standing out against his otherwise black face and head, framed by his gleaming horns.

The young bull, preserved by his family name up to this point, was woefully unqualified to be in the class he was in when I met him..He should have failed Calculus I, but due to intervention and extra credit and a little too much sympathy from one of my weak-hearted peers in the department, he was given a pass and now here he was in Calc II, waiting for me to discover how little he knew.

He failed the first test I gave, which is designed to shake out the students who are not prepared, and asked to see me. This is exactly what I expect students in his situation to do..however, his case ended up being a special one.

'Dr. Von Fredricks,' he said, sitting down, 'you apparently have quite a reputation among the tutors.

I smiled and leaned back, hooking my thumbs in my belt. 'Is that so? I imagine it could be. But are we here to discuss what they have learned about my class, or about your performance on the preliminary exam?'

The large bull blushed, and toyed with one of his horns. 'Yes, about that...well, I could have done better. But the tutors say you're too wild, they told me to go to registration and drop you, and add...' he rummaged through some forms..'Professor Sacy's section.'

'Well, you don't need my permission to do that now, at this stage.' I leaned forward and rested one claw on the desk, playing with a pencil. 'It's only the beginning of the second week, and the drop/add period closes at the end.'

He sighed and looked down. 'Her class is full and she won't sign me in.' He looked dejected, crushed..I mused that perhaps this was the first time someone had said no to him, and not helped him along. I started to say something to try to talk him into repeating Calc I, when he leaned forward suddenly, resting his hands on the desk. 'I..I heard from one of the tutors that..you...uh...' he blushed again, and I stopped moving my claw, letting the pencil roll a short distance. He reached across the desk, held the pencil in a fist, and moved his hand so that it brushed against my scaled fingers. 'I hear that you sometimes make arrangements for students who are having trouble.' He looked down as he said this, then looked up, tossing his head a little, and stared right at me.

Don't believe for a minute that the dangers involved here did not cross my mind. It's true, supposedly, that we lizards have what is considered a 'primitively' wired brain, motivated by simple things (an opinion only seriously held by incredibly stubborn, and dare I say racist, mammals)..but the simplest rule of all is 'Don't ruin a good spot by drawing attention to yourself'.

Besides that, he seemed to fall so far from what I normally considered a promising prospect that the idea of taking him in was laughable. He certainly had the werewithal to bribe me, which is what I was expecting him to do, but his body language indicated that he knew he might be able to offer more.

This also disturbed me. Was I getting careless? How were rumors like this beginning? I had very few places left to run, if Tischwood also turned me out, quite literally, into the cold.

The phone rang, scattering my thoughts. I pulled my claw away from the bull's hand, and held it up to non-verbally ask him to pause. 'Yes, this is Professor Von Fredricks,' I said into the phone.

'Hauke!' said a familiar voice. 'There's someone I wanted you to meet, and I'd like to be there when you do, but I'm running late. Has a young bull been there to see you yet?'

I swiveled my chair around, pushing with my long and thick tail against the floor. Many of my concerns evaporated at the sound of the voice on the other end. 'As a matter of fact, Don, he's here.' The reaction that came over Rasmus was slight, but telling. A faint blush on his nose, lowering his head slightly..the two of them knew each other, probably very well. 'Come on back, Don. Should we wait for you here?'

There was a cough on the other end. 'Actually, professor..if you've met him already, perhaps you and he could just meet me at my place. You haven't seen it yet, let me give you directions.'

I started to write down instructions, Rasmus leanded forward. 'I..' he began, then blushed more. 'I know the way. I'll drive us.'

Of course, he had a modern sportscar. Someone in a family like his probably should. Thankfully he was big enough so that the car had to have a lot of room, or the plan would have ended right there. I'm not exactly built for compact cars, the tail really gets in the way sometimes. But we managed, mostly talking about his test. At least he was taking his education seriously..maybe he was worth a shot after all.

There was a certain nervousness in the car, which made me smile a little. While his eyes were on the road, I was checking him out. He was very athletic..I later found out he was out for two different sports, where he had met the tutors he had mentioned. Very tight stomach, huge thighs..I think I'm starting to repeat myself. He's quite a specimen, no doubt.

We arrived, and he led the way, though he became confused once. Perhaps he had only been there once or twice before. But before long we had found, and entered, Don's apartment.

'Hey, Hauke!' Don grinned, embraced me, and squeezed. 'I missed you. It took a long time to get you over here.' He was almost as tall as I was, which was unusual for a horse. He was short, lanky, but definitely not weak. His short hair was a uniform brown, his mane a slightly lighter shade, hanging loosely and unkempt at the moment. His tail was the same shade of lighter brown, and also looked a bit uncombed..but since he worked nights at the time, he had probably just gotten up. He was bare-chested, which brought back pleasant memories, and had on shorts.

There was a little small talk, about how Don was doing, what he had been up to, how my last set of classes ended. All the while, Rasmus sat quietly, mostly looking at me. Don noticed him and chuckled. 'I told you, Ras..he's not like anyone you've been with. Just trust me, it's worth it.'

Then, the horse leaned toward me and said 'I've had my eye on this guy, please get him through school and take care of him, will you?'

It was a strange moment, for this was different from any other selection I had made. Being asked, being approached, instead of me seeking out the student by watching them struggle to acheive while their peers were happy with less..it almost made me say no on the spot. 'Mr. Brunk...Rasmus..you have your work cut out for you. As we discussed on the ride, you're in poor shape.'

Don stood up and held out his hand to the bull. 'Got your test? Let's see..' He read it over as he walked back into the apartment, which turned out to be a townhouse. There was a set of stairs behind a door, which the horse began climbing. 'Come on..both of you.'

The top floor was two bedrooms, both with their doors closed. 'I don't sleep up here..this is purely for enjoyment.' He winked at Rasmus..'Remember?' Rasmus began taking his clothes off, and I chuckled. The horse turned to me and winked. 'You might want to join us, professor. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did.'

I smiled at my protege, and obliged him. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, and to be honest, the pure physical power of the young bull was compelling enough to make me want to be seen by him. The three of us stood in that hallway, between the two doors, looking from horse to bull to tegu, the two mammals becoming aroused as most of their looks were toward each other.

We entered one of the bedrooms, and I saw why Don wished to keep these rooms closed, except on special occasions. He had made it into a dungeon. No wonder he was having problems saving money. There was a rack in the center of the room, maybe made from an old bedframe, and a collection of sex toys, all of which he must have purchased recently, for he had none of them while he lived with me..as far as I knew.

Rasmus went to the rack and held onto the top of it. It was a large wooden rectangle, with clips on the top for cuffs that soon held the bull's hands up, near his horns. Access to his front and his rear was possible, though I think he could have easily brought the whole contraption down with a good shrug of his shoulders. Don fussed around a table with his collection of sex toys and returned, with a small tube of lubricant. Spreading this all over Rasmus's buttocks, he tossed his head toward the table. 'Get the test..we're going to give our friend here a quiz. But first let's warm him up.'

Don slowly inserted a monstrous dildo into Rasmus's butthole, turning it back and forth, seeming to screw it into the hole, as the bull leaned forward, spreading his legs, and started to moan. The rack began to creak and shudder under his weight, but it held against his weight as Don continued the insertion. Both of them were fully erect now, and the dildo being used was just the merest hint larger than his own penis, which is an impressive size to begin with--you know what they say about horses.

The bull cried out suddenly, groaning with his attempts to accomidate the large rubbery shaft intruding inside him, his own large and seemingly permanently stiff cock waving in front of him, bobbing from time to time as he tried bucking his hips to ease the stretching sensation behind him. Don eased off, then started pushing it in again, making Rasmus bow his head, shaking it back and forth, his horns hitting the top of the rack every so often..he started snorting with every breath, which made him seem more attractive than ever..being stretched so wide, taking it deep.

But, as Don said, this was just a warm up. The horse pulled the dildo out, wiped it with a cloth, and smiled at me, tossing it over. 'Check that out, if you like. I'm getting our boy here ready for his retest. If you please, professor, start off with the first question. As he spoke, Don began inserting something else into Rasmus's butt, something I didn't see clearly, as I was distracted with handling the massive dildo that recently had explored the handsome bull's nether-regions.

I waited for Don to finish what he was doing, absent-mindedly rubbing the tip of the dildo against my cloaca, not entering myself though..not yet. The horse crouched beside the bull, and began to stroke Rasmus's painfully erect shaft. I began; 'The first question..what is the antiderivative of the square root of x?'

Rasmus looked up, and after a moment's thought, grunted. 'I..it's one half..times...' and then suddenly stopped speaking, making a surprised, gutteral 'Moo?'

'You're thinking of differentiation! It's the other way around,' Don said as he squeezed a small hand pump several times. Looking closer, there was a hose leading from the pump up the bull's ass. Whatever was up there, probably a balloon, was being slowly inflated. 'Next question!'

I looked at the test, starting to like this method. 'What is the antiderivative of cosine x?'

The bull wheezed 'Sine..sine..' and grunted again, gritting his teeth as Don pumped up the balloon with just one squeeze.

'That's right, my bovine friend! Though you forgot the constant of integration, I'll let that slide this time. One squeeze for every right answer, five for every that's incorrect, including when you forget the constants! I hope you can make it through this test, because it looked like there were 20 questions..and you're already hurting, I can see it.' He stroked the bull's cock, scooting over a little more, and slowly licked alongside it, nibbling gently at the head before taking it in his mouth. 'Mmmph,' he said, looking one last time at me.

I read the third question, then the fourth. Every question answered, either right or wrong, added to the bull's discomfort. Since he had done so poorly the first time, he had his work cut out for him. Having used toys like this before, I knew that in some ways it was pleasurable, but only to a point. If the balloon grew too quickly, it was a painful experience.

Rasmus put a lot more thought into each question, but he still didn't do very well. It was around the tenth question where his eyes began to tear up. Despite his massive cock being sucked on and licked by Don, it was too much. I asked the eleventh, which he stumbled on, shaking his head over and over and grunting 'Wait..wait.' He shifted uncomfortably, and sniffed, making a little whimper as Don stopped sucking his cock and said looked at him expectantly. 'What..what was the ggghhaa..question..?' he asked through his gritted teeth and pained expression.

'It's one over the difference 5 - 4x. Find the antiderivative.' I read it, having tossed the dildo aside in favor of stroking one of my own shafts, which had emerged in the time being, watching my former lover simultaneously service and punish the bull.

Rasmus whimpered again and hung his head, shaking it. 'I don't know,' he whispered, and then rocked forward in agony as Don began pumping up the balloon again.

I stood up. 'That's enough, Don. He wasn't prepared for this test the first time, nor is he ready now. You've reduced him to a gibbering wreck. This isn't serving him at all.'

Don looked me over, a not at all friendly look at first. 'You drove me hard,' he said. He gave the balloon one last squeeze, making Rasmus writhe in the rack and cry out again.

I approached the pair, my erect hemipenis bobbing there as I walked, and rested my hand on Don's shoulder. 'Don't do this to him. Not now. You wanted me to take him in, I will. But I never did anything to you for sheer torture.'

Don stopped playing with the bull's cock and gently touched my own with his hand, then squeezed the head. 'You're so soft, you know that?' He smiled and stroked it some more. 'I'll tell you what. I'm no longer your student, I'm no longer under you. I'll give him over to you if you do something for me.' He gave the balloon's pump another push, winning another pained moan from the bull. 'Something you seldom gave me before.

I knew just what he was talking about..he wanted to take me. 'All right..you're a big horse now..you're right. You're no longer my subordinate.' I could see that this took on more importance for him than the pleasure he'd receive from the physical act. He saw it as a reversal, a rite of passage.

I let him caress my organ and slide his hand down to my vent, where he would have to enter. 'Help me,' I said, rubbing through his mane. 'Reach in and tease out the other one, make room for your big self down there.'

Just a quick anatomy lesson--I've found many to be ignorant of reptile physiology. I have two hemipenises, one on the left and one on the right. Just as I am right-clawed, it is my right sided hemipenis that usually responds to the call when there's work to be done. The left one is just as usable as the right, however. If I've been active recently, I sometimes switch to the left.

Having both out at once is slightly uncomfortable, but easily done, and the stretch it causes in my cloacal vent is something I can get used to. Having the organs inside me while trying to accomidate a horse like Don just isn't going to happen.

Don smiled and caressed the base of my right halfcock, slipping his fingers gently inside to wake up and tease the left one. 'Excellent! Rasmus..you're dismissed. Push out the balloon.' Don reached further inside, and as I gazed at the mostly-black bull, blushing again with shame, I felt myself respond to Don's touch, the organ everting and poking out through the vent; the two organs made a sort of 'V' against my stomach.

I reached forward and fondled Rasmus's cock, dripping with precum at the tip, very close to his climax. He gulped and looked at me, then snorted and pushed, trying to force out the balloon inside of him. I turned away, and laid on my back, my head near the bull's shiny hooves, between them. 'Unshackle him,' I said to Don, who was eagerly sliding on top of me, the huge swollen head of his cock pressing its way between my own penes and into my vent.

'What? Oh, all right,' he said, getting off of me briefly, unhooking the shackles that held Rasmus's hands above his head, and thankfully got some more lubricant, spreading it all over his member before returning to mount me. He slid in slowly, and as he did, I reached up and stroked the bull's inner thigh. Rasmus responded by crouching, his thick sac inches above my snout, his still plugged butthole further away.

I slowly licked the backside of his balls with my long forked tongue, as Don finished his entry, making me wince slightly. At least one of us three was enjoying himself thoroughly. Rasmus groaned softly, trying again to expell the balloon..I traced my way back along the hose that let up into him, and watched his ring open, framing the black rubber balloon inside him. By the curvature of the rubber surface, he was probably stuck with it inside him. I watched, continuing to lick his balls, and reached up to fondle his cock, occasionally stopping with a shudder as my body worked to accomidate the massive horsecock buried inside me.

Don was, and is, a rough lover when he has his way. He grabs around the ribs and squeezes, he bites, he doesn't wait for whoever is under him to become accustomed to his impressive size, and relishes making his partners cry out, so there were reasons I rarely let him have his way with me. But today, for Rasmus..I would do it. He would be the first one I took on motivated by mercy and compassion..though his well-built body made me certain that there was a great deal of self-interest involved, as well.

I distracted myself from the pounding I was getting from the horse by slowly rubbing Rasmus's black-furred thighs, nuzzling his hairless, also black balls, until I noticed his enthusiasm for all of this had waned considerably; his erection, carried mostly by the peculiar bone arrangement of bovines, was receeding slowly into its sheath. Under the circumstances, I couldn't blame him for being less than enchanted with this introduction, so I resolved to make it up to him later. I held onto his ankles, grimacing and occasionally groaning, involuntarily giving Don what he wanted--the pained sounds from a lover having difficulty with the horse's large size.

Now that he was not distracted, Rasmus began trying to force out the balloon again. He shifted his feet as I held onto his ankles, grunted, and tried to push it out. I could see that he wouldn't succeed, try as he may; his ring again grew, opening, revealing the rubbery surface, then tremble as it reached its limits. The balloon, squeezed from the inside, deformed slightly, but not enough, and with a frustrated groan from the bull, it disappeared once again, save for the hose.

Don was speaking to himself, sounding almost as though he was stuttering, saying 'ye-he-he-hes, ye-he-he-he-hes' over and over again as his cock flared inside my vent, and it his orgasm began. I moaned again, as while his seed was pumping in, the head of his cock grew to its largest. I had seen it happen after masturbation: the flare, he called it, was happening inside me now. Each time it throbbed, each time he wheezed and nibbled at the scales on my chest, I also groaned and shuddered. I was reaching for the pump that inflated the balloon, which was at the other end of the hose. I had considered piercing the balloon with the point of a claw, but I didn't want ot injure the bull further. After a few grabs for the pump that were interrupted by spasms caused by Don's rough attentions, I reeled it in, and twisted a small valve there.

A hiss indicated the balloon was deflating. I couldn't see Rasmus's face, or hear any other indication of gratitude, but I felt it was so. He visibly relaxed, and my tongue streaked out, the fork tagging him on the balls again. He was able to push what remained of the balloon out easily, along with quite a bit of whatever lubricant Don had used to insert it and the dildo when we came to this room.

Don lay across me, spent, while I finally got a measure of pleasure from the warmth of his body, and the gift of his seed deep up in my gut, pooling in the pouch formed inside the lips of my cloacal vent. He sighed, and looked up, seeing the deflated balloon. It somehow seemed to anger him. His eyes narrowed, his ears, usually perked forward, flattened on his back. 'What did you do, Hauke?' He looked from the crumpled balloon back to me.

'He released the valve...sir.' Rasmus stirred, looking down at Don, who suddenly got even angrier.

'Well! At least you remembered to address me with respect.' Don's tail flapped between his thighs, and he stared at me. 'You meddler! I invite you to my home and you break my rules? Yes, my rules! This is MY house!' He snorted, his nostrils wide. He stood up quickly, pulling out of me.

I continued to lay on my back, still calm, just watching him. His effect on Rasmus was the opposite..the larger bull seemed to cringe and wilt at the horse's anger.

'Tell me, Rasmus,' I said as I sat up. 'Don's the one who told you to come to me, yes?'

The bull started to say something, then looked at Don. Don said 'Yes, I thought you'd know how to..'

In a quick movement, I swept my tail across the floor, knocking Don's feet out from under him, entwining his lower limbs, and rolled closer, settling my claws on his chest. 'You want to be treated as my equal, Don?' I pressed in with my claws and slowly opened my muzzle over his shoulder, exhaling. It seems that sadly, no matter what I do, my breath smells of decayed meat and carrion. It affects herbivores particularly strongly, usually making them panic. Don, being used to it from our previous trysts, was more or less beyond being frightened by it, but it certainly shook the meadow under his hooves.

'My equal,' I hissed, and then laughed. I leaned in so close that only he could hear. 'You're so far from that, it isn't even funny. Never believe I'll be intimidated by threatening postures from you, you sick fucker.' I raked my claws slowly across his chest, leaving a mark, making Rasmus gasp. Don made no noise but a panting sound through his nose. 'Yes, you're sick. I can't believe how you've warped my own methods to turn them into a game for torture, for your own amusement. It turns my stomach.'

I licked my claws slowly, making sure he saw his blood on them. I wiped my claws off on his side, got up, and turned to Rasmus. 'I hope I can ask you for a ride, my good bull.'

Times like this make me wonder how far away we are from our unevolved selves..Don and Rasmus, descended from herd animals..did they automatically follow the strongest, falling into line after a show of force? I'm lucky it turned out that way, that day. Rasmus and I left without incident, Don remaining on the floor of his dungeon for the entire time it took us to dress, as messy as we were, and leave.

We drove back to campus in silence, and pulled around to the faculty parking lot near my car. We sat in his car for a while, and I reached over and rubbed his thigh through his pants. 'I'll take you on, Rasmus.'

He sniffed, and for a moment I thought he was going to cry. It was so unlike the first impression I had of him, such a vulnerable young bull. Maybe he was not destined to be a shining scholar, but perhaps there were other things I could teach him. 'Follow me home, if you like,' I said with a smile, and got out of his car.

It was a relief to be in my own..it's specially designed for me, with no drivers seat, per se, but more of a bench on which I can recline, belly down. The accelerator and brake are moved to where my hind feet are. It's so much more comfortable..likely not so for someone such as Rasmus, though.

And follow me home he did. I'm taking it slow and easy with him, as he is a new kind of project, and one I did not pick out in the normal way. He shows his gratitude in the home improvement projects I described. We have yet to explore intimacy again..but I'll certainly let you know if my handsome bull decides to open up to me!