Teacher's Aide
~~~
The weasel boy studiously looked both ways before crossing the road in case any teachers were watching to make sure he was actually going towards the adjoined elementary and middle schools across from his high school. Not that he ever skipped, but the few occasions where he'd been late arriving must have been reported at least once. It took a significant amount of his self control to not roll his eyes out of his skull as his afternoon homeroom teacher tried to give him a lecture about "responsibility."

Buster, for his part, never missed an opportunity to help out at the intermediary school. Sure, he was late once or twice, but he had good reason. After all, if a kid were trying to sneak off and play hooky, it was his responsibility to "convince" them to stay for the day, wasn't it? He grinned at the thought, slightly perversely, and gathered his long hair up into a low ponytail as he crossed the road. He liked to wear it down at high school but it was safer pulled back while around the younger kids.

And anyway, his mind continued to push back against the teacher in his head, why would he skip? He got a pretty sweet deal out of this, all said and done. His teachers were tired of him sleeping through afternoon classes, so they originally thought to punish him by making him help out at the intermediary school across the road. Admittedly, they probably didn't quite anticipate getting glowing recommendations from their colleagues urging them to let him come back and help out more. Even more mind boggling was when he showed up the next day and aced the test on the reading he had been napping through up until that day. Somewhat resigned to the idea he was going to continue to be a nuisance for them, his teachers got together and had the principal offer him a deal.

"Go help out with the cubs across the road in the afternoon and we'll give you full credit for class participation. You'll still need to do your homework and come in for tests, but the teachers could use the help and you seem to behave better over there than you do with us."

A charming, if insincere, smile and an assurance of understanding was all it took to seal the deal. Free from afternoon classes and access to all the cute cubs he could hope for. What more could he want? Homework was a small price to pay for... them.

Buster pushed open the large, wooden double doors leading into the middle school. As if on cue, the end-of-lunch bell rang and a swarm of children of all ages flooded out from the cafeteria, barely contained by a handful of adult chaperones ushering them back to their various classrooms, their voices drowned out by the incessant chatter of the kids and the shuffling of reluctant feet on dense berber carpeting. A veritable buffet of delicious little cubs in all shapes and sizes and species walked in front of and around him as he made his way in. One of the teachers, a slightly haggard-looking middle aged beaver woman in a dowdy blue dress, watched the brown weasel boy enter the building and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Buster! Buster! Over here, dear!" She waved him over excitedly. He headed in her direction, casually greeting children along the way and ushering them in the general direction their age groups should be going in.

"Afternoon, Miss Demein. Am I with your class today?" A picture of the beaver's social studies class flashed in the weasel's mind, a few of the kids out of the group marked with a circle around them. Past 'helpers' -cubs he'd managed to convince to have sex with him. Of those few marked cubs, one, a little otter boy with a red shirt and meek smile, had little stars drawn around the picture in his mind. A 'favorite helper.' His dick twitched a bit in his pants at the thought of what that boy could do with his tongue, before he pushed the picture from his head and returned to reality.

"Oh, I wish... Coach Gillium was asking if you'd help out with the afternoon gym class; says it's easier to get all cleaned up when you’re there to help. I feel like he's not really taking into account that most of the kids prefer gym to studying and they give him less of a headache, but, well..." She looked around exasperated, trying desperately to find an excuse hidden somewhere in the halls around them to convince the high schooler to come to her class instead. "I suppose it is his turn to have you. We all agreed to take turns, and the faculty at the high school doesn't seem keen on sending more students over to help, heavens knows why. Surely a few more of those kids would enjoy a chance to..." Buster nodded understandingly as she nattered on about the lack of resources and help, but he had tuned her out as soon as she mentioned the coach.

Oh FUCK yes. Coach Gillium was one of the student body's favorite teachers, and his as well. The kids enjoyed him for making gym a fun class to break up their usual humdrum days filled with studying and bookwork, but Buster enjoyed him for entirely different reasons. He'd been unfortunate enough to lose track of time one day while cleaning up the gym with one of his helpers and the coach returned to find out what was taking so long. The high schooler probably would have died on the spot being caught balls deep in that little bunny girl had the coach, a somewhat chubby but still clearly athletic maned wolf, not simply given him a twisted smile and invited himself to join them. She was tired and walking funny after that encounter, but Coach Gillium had convinced the faculty that she had collapsed from exhaustion and Buster was tending to her. Partially true, even if the 'exhausted' part was later than the 'tending' part of that story, but it kept the other teachers from asking too many probing questions.

What it didn't do was stop kids from talking.

Thankfully for Buster, teachers hardly paid much attention to the rumor mill of gossipy preteens. The idea of a bunch of 12-and-unders being enamored with a 16 year old, with his long hair (so rebellious) and dark clothes (so mysterious) and car (so cool) was barely worth considering as being out of the ordinary. But, no matter how few adults knew the truth, the weasel still ended up as the school's worst-kept secret. 'If you're in trouble for any reason, go see Buster.' Do you need more time to finish your math homework? He's got an excuse to convince the teacher to let you turn it in tomorrow. Running late getting back from recess? He'll tell your teacher you were helping him with some cleaning. Bully giving you trouble? He'll show up at the perfect time to get them in trouble. Sure, you might end up running even more behind, or you might end up looking like your bully roughed you up anyway, but it's better than the alternative. It was hard being a celebrity, but he was willing to endure it.

Ever since that day, Buster made it a special point to try and attend gym classes as often as possible.
"Oh, you know how it is. The kids get tired after gym and don't want to help clean up. Those big mats take time to put away when it's just the coach, and he’s got another class to teach after gym."
"Coach Gillium was saying he wanted to split the cubs into teams, and he needs an extra head there keeping an eye on things to help corral two groups instead of one."
"The coach was saying his ankle hurt yesterday; something about twisting it the night before? It'll heal faster if I help him keep off it for a day or two."

Buster assured the beaver woman that while he'd adore the chance to help her out today, he wanted to be fair to everyone, but he promised to come by her room after helping at the gym. A perfectly fair deal, in his mind, which would give him about an hour to recover from whichever helper he'd be able to get his hands on today before having to help wrangle the cubs to get ready to head home. Her whinging was going to cause them both to be late as it was, and as he searched for an excuse to divest himself of the conversation, time handed him one; the second bell. The metallic clang of the schoolbell signaling the students should, by now, already be in their classes caused the beaver woman to panic, realizing she would be the one late to class. Hardly becoming of a teacher. She quickly ushered the high schooler towards the gym with a hopeful glance that he would indeed show up later before quickly making her way towards her own class. Buster politely waved her off up the nearby stairwell before stretching his arms over his head, his flat tan-colored belly peeking out from beneath his shirt as he did so, and meandering his way towards the gymnasium. It was at the middle point of the conjoined schools, perfect for both the middle schools and the elementary schoolers to get to as necessary. The cafeterias, however, were at the far wings of both away from the gym, so it would take him a few minutes to get there. He wandered down the empty halls, the only sound being the occasional teacher's voice muffled through the thick wooden doors to their classrooms and his own footsteps on the tacky carpeted floor.

At least, it was at first. The weasel's ears perked up at the unmistakable sounds of sniffling and quiet crying. Buster was not above admitting to being perverse. He'd openly regale stories, to certain people in his inner friend circle at least, that he mostly took this deal to have easy access to cubs willing to explore their sexuality with him. But he also genuinely liked these kids and it infuriated him when someone would hurt them. His pace quickened as he searched for the source of the sound and it was only a brief moment before he found a familiar-looking otter cub around the corner from some lockers, huddled up and looking even smaller than usual, his head buried between his knees as he sobbed to himself. Buster knelt down to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump and recoil instinctively.

"Hey, hey. You're… Sebastian, right? Do you remember me, Bastian?" The teenager tried his best to appear non threatening, smiling warmly at the young boy; probably his first genuine smile of the day. The otter quickly settled when he saw who it was, before stiffening up again remembering what he'd done with the older teen previously. "Shouldn't you be in Miss Demein's class?"

After the rush of conflicting emotions settled onto what appeared to be 'dejected,' the otter boy, Bastian, hugged his knees closer to his chest again and turned his head from Buster. "... Billy beat me up and took my lunch again.” His voice was quiet and tinged with sadness.

Buster knew the name but had never directly interacted with the older child. Billy was a known troublemaker in the intermediary school, a spoiled child from a rich family who was held back twice for failing and causing problems. Rumor had it he was on the cusp of failing again. He was closer to Buster's age than any of the rest of these kids so it was easier for him to push them around. Buster looked the otter boy over. Curled up as he was, trying to hide it, his clothes had the telltale wrinkles of being grabbed and yanked around, and some of the fur on his face and arms was mussed up. The teenager sighed and sat next to the boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. They sat in silence for a minute before the otter boy spoke up, still sniffing a bit, though clearly much calmer now. 

“W-what’s his problem anyway? Why does he have t-to be such a jerk?” Bastian went to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his shirt before Buster grabbed his arm, holding out a tissue and what looked like a candy bar to the cub. The teenager had started carrying all sorts of things in his bag since starting to come help out at the intermediary school. From a bottle of children's aspirin and bandages of all shapes and sizes for when they skin their knees, to candy and snacks on those days they skip breakfast, all far less healthy than the teachers would prefer the kids were eating, naturally. The hungry cub quickly blew his nose into the tissue before tearing open the candy bar. It was a large chocolate-covered peanut butter wafer bar; his favorite.

Buster stood up from next to Bastian and stretched a bit. “Who's to say? I'll see if I can have a little ‘talk’ with him. Come on, bud. Let's go get you cleaned up. Miss Demein will be worried about you.” The weasel held out his hand for the otter and hoisted the boy up onto his feet. For his part, Bastian seemed pleased Buster was at least going to try to help him. He quickly devoured the candy bar as the duo walked down the hallway to a nearby bathroom. As Bastian started to push open the door to the boy's restroom, Buster stopped him yet again and ushered him to a different door. It was also a bathroom, but it was for the faculty. Students weren't supposed to use it. “It's a little more private.” The otter boy gulped and blushed, unsure if the teen weasel didn't want anyone to see him looking disheveled or if he had other plans, but he made no arguments against being alone together and quickly shuffled into the faculty restroom. Buster smiled slyly and closed and locked the door behind him. 

Though smaller than the communal restrooms the kids normally used, the single occupancy design of the faculty restroom lent it to feel more spacious. Buster carefully lifted the plastic trash bag out of its bin, twisting the mouth around to temporarily close it, and set it to the side. He flipped the bin over and gestured for Bastian to sit on it. The weasel set about tidying the otter boy up, stretching his shirt back out into a more normal shape and smoothing his fur with a wet paper towel. Bastian winced a bit as the teenager's efforts brushed over his forearm. “You okay, bud?”

Bastian nodded quickly, despite the clear pain. “I'm okay, yeah, Billy just… did this thing where he uh… kinda twisted his hands around my arm?” The boy rubbed his forearm where the bully had clearly injured him. 

“Ah, a snakebite. Yeah, ‘jerk’ definitely seems to be right… think a kiss might help it feel better?” Buster chuckled a bit and brought the boy's arm up to his face before he had a chance to protest and made loud kissing sounds as he pressed his lips against it a few times, eliciting giggling and squirming from the otter cub. A little voice in his head spoke up. 

Go higher.

Buster's head moved up the boy's arm, kissing it the whole way, triggering more laughter and attempts to push the teenager off him. He didn't relent, and kept kissing higher until he was on the other boy's neck. Bastian was caught in a giggling fit as the teenager planted kiss after kiss onto his body. Another commanding thought -lower, this time- and the weasel’s head then started to dip, kissing back down his torso through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. One arm wrapped around Bastian’s waist to hold him in place while the other started to push up his shirt, feeling at the soft fur of the cub's body beneath. The laughing slowly dissipated, but the energy of the room kept increasing as the teenager kissed lower.

And lower.

Bastian had had a run in with Buster before. This sort of affection was not a new experience for him, but it was no less pleasurable as the teenager made his way down his body, his lips gingerly pressing into the sensitive skin just above his penis, still tucked away in his shorts but very quickly springing to life under the attention. His little whines and whimpers filled the small bathroom, driving the teenager to kiss more, and nibble, and sniff, taking in the boy's taste and scent before diving lower. The young otter smelled so clean and sweet. Like vanilla. He’d showered before coming to school and he used the same body shampoo the older boy said he’d like the smell of before. The teenager's hand that was formerly around the boy's waist snaked around instead to his front and slid up the leg of his shorts, fishing around in the fabric to find his little bulge. “B…Buster… aah! Hah!”

Good gods, those noises. His little squeaks, his pleas, his panting and moaning. The teenager could cum from the sounds he was making alone. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, begging to be let out. Self control would have to win out this time, annoying as it was. Buster knew if his pants came off they'd be there another 20 minutes anyway, and both of them were already late. 

That wasn't going to stop him from enjoying his snack right now, though. The teenage weasel continued to fiddle with the young boy's junk through the thin fabric of his underwear while his face stayed buried in his public area just above the hem of his shorts, teasing with his warm breath and wet tongue. He imagined the cute patterns on the cub's underwear. Was he still wearing patterned undies? He was last time. Branded from some kid's show or another. The teenager didn't recognize the show, but they looked just so cute framing the little otter’s little butt before, he almost hated to pull them off. Almost, but not quite.

He was ready to blow, and, through his fondling of the 10 year old, he could tell Bastian was, too. He wiggled two fingers and his thumb through the small opening at the front of the undies and started to play with it directly. His index and middle finger rubbed up and down both sides while his thumb teased the head, rubbing circles on the boy's glans. Bastian squirmed under the teen’s grip, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he inched closer and closer to release. He gripped his hands on Buster's head and rocked his hips slightly. Did he remember that motion from the last time, when Buster did it to him, or was he moving on pure instinct? The teen didn't have much time to think as the cub's body suddenly shuddered and he felt the boy's little cock twitching between his fingers. Buster smiled and huffed his nose into the boy's crotch, his smell changing ever so slightly as his body orgasmed. The scent of his vanilla shampoo remained, but was joined by a smell that was slightly salty that reminded him of the smell of the breeze off the ocean, and the mix of scents was utterly heavenly to him as he breathed it in deep.

Bastian sat, panting heavily after the exertion. It wasn't the first time Buster had brought him to orgasm, and he was hoping it wouldn't be the last even though he couldn’t actually cum yet, but he still wasn't used to the sensation. The weasel got up on his knees in front of the otter and stared at him, seemingly transfixed. For a moment, Bastian was concerned he had done something wrong, before the teen’s mouth darted forward, planting one more small kiss on his lips. The boy blushed before relaxing. “U-um… do you want me to…?” He didn't have time to finish the question.

“Told you a kiss would help you feel better.” Buster smiled a lecherous smile at the cub and stood up. “Come on, we need to get you to class. Don't worry, I'll explain things to Miss Demein.” The teenager helped smooth the boy back down one more time before escorting him up to the second story where Miss Demein taught social studies. A brief conversation about how he found Bastian crying after getting beat up by a bully and how he helped him get cleaned up set the beaver woman's mind at ease. Buster waved to the class, and leaned down to give Bastian a hug; a gesture which elicited some knowing snickering from other students. Buster took the opportunity to whisper in the boy's ear, “Don't worry, we'll pick back up where we left off another time. I need you to do that thing with your tongue again.” Another quick wave and he was on his way.

Unlike last time, the weasel made short work of getting to the gym. He was already very late and while he could trust Coach Gillium to be empathetic to the reason for his delay, if a different teacher caught him wandering the halls when he was supposed to be acting like a teacher's aide, he was going to catch flak from the high school again. He quickly found himself outside the door to the gym, only about 15 minutes late, all said and done. He pushed open the door a crack and peered through. The coach was leading the class through what looked like a simple warmup exercise routine at the moment. They were doing some jumping jacks, probably just finishing up before announcing the day’s game. The teenager glanced through the throng of cubs, watching their clothes bounce up and reveal their young bodies as they did their exercises, and noticed a new one. A cute little beagle boy with floppy ears and big glasses. A new student, maybe? He adjusted his still hard cock to be less visible in his pants and stepped into the gymnasium, eliciting gasps of surprise and delight from the kids, along with a few mocking comments about him being late. As he greeted everyone, his eyes traced to that beagle pup again, who was blushing and doing his best to not look directly at the teenager.

Oh, Buster thought to himself, has he already heard about me? This'll be fun.

I've been looking for a new helper.