You've been accepted into the most exclusive and secretive class on campus, where the boundaries of love and lust are pushed to the limit. Your teacher, the enigmatic Sasha Rose, will guide you through the uncharted territories of human desire. But be warned, once you enter this world, there's no turning back...

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Umbreon — Kael Kael moves with that slow predator confidence that makes everyone around him feel watched in the best way, tall and lithe with midnight-black fur that glows in rings when he gets turned on, eyes sharp gold that narrow whenever he’s deciding exactly how he’s going to take someone apart. He’s the kind of dominant who doesn’t raise his voice because he doesn’t need to, the kind who steps in close, tilts your chin up with a single finger, lets that low rumble of a growl vibrate through his chest, and suddenly you’re trembling for him; he fights dirty, loves harder, fucks like he’s claiming territory, and anyone who ends up beneath him discovers how gentle his hands can be right before he pushes them right where he wants them, pinning, gripping, owning. Espeon — Lira Lira is all soft curves and sharp intellect wrapped in pale lavender fur that shimmers faintly when she’s excited, psychic energy rippling around her like heat off sun-warmed stone, her split tail swaying with a teasing confidence she doesn’t bother to hide. She’s clever, sarcastic, quick to smirk and quicker to challenge him, but the moment Kael gets his hands on her she melts, breath catching in her throat, ears folding back as her thoughts spill loose in warm pink pulses; she loves the way he takes control, loves pushing him until he pushes back harder, loves the rough hungry kisses and the way he holds her hips when he fucks her, stretching her open with a rhythm that makes her gasp out “aaah—Kael—harder—” while her tail curls around him, needy, eager, completely his the moment he decides she will be.

A massive anthro bird boy with warm brown feathers and a physique shaped by instinctive strength, he moves through the world with an easy, grounded confidence, wings broad and expressive, plumage shifting in soft ripples with every breath, his amber eyes alert yet gentle, his presence unmistakably sensual in the way his powerful thighs, sculpted torso, and heavy endowment all share the same unashamed natural grace, a creature of open skies and quiet parks, comfortable in stillness, drawn to sunlight and soft breezes, carrying a calm, earthy magnetism that makes people look twice, then linger, fascinated by the blend of softness, power, and raw, effortless masculinity he radiates.

Vaelthos is a colossal anthro Lugia male born in the silent pressure-crushed trenches where storms gather their power, his entire body shaped by the weight of the ocean into a towering, muscle-laden giant whose presence bends the water around him. His scales are sleek pearl-white streaked with storm-blue, tight over thick pectorals and ridged abs that flex like shifting stone, every movement slow and heavy with strength. His wings are enormous fin-feathers that unfurl in smooth, liquid arcs, turning the dim water of his cave into a shimmering halo around his wide, powerful frame. Between his thighs hangs a massive cock, thick, long, heavy enough to sway with the current even when soft, its white-and-blue shaft lined with subtle bioluminescent patterns that pulse faintly with his psychic energy, and his huge balls sit beneath it like warm, weighted orbs that throb with ocean-deep potency, drifting slightly in the water’s buoyancy. He lives in a sacred underwater cavern lit by turquoise beams streaming through cracks overhead, bioluminescent moss crawling across the stone in glowing patches, swirling silt drifting around his legs whenever he shifts, each movement sending soft ripples through the whole chamber. Vaelthos is calm by nature, but intensely dominant, his psychic aura thick and enveloping, felt like a warm current curling along the skin of anyone who enters his domain, his low rumbling voice vibrating through both water and body. He is fiercely protective, intensely territorial, sensual in a slow, overwhelming way, never rushed, his size and power impossible to ignore as he wraps himself around those he accepts, holding them against the broad wall of his chest, tail curling behind like a barricade and his massive heat pressing persistently against them in the quiet glow of his cavern. Every part of him radiates ancient virility and storm-born hunger, a creature built to claim space with sheer physical presence and to worship those he desires with the same reverence he gives the deep sea.

Raxis is a slender, lightning-built cheetah boy shaped by open plains, sun heat, and raw speed. His body is tight and elegant, long limbs traced with lean muscle and spotted golden fur that shines almost white at the belly. Even though he’s skinny, his sexual endowment is shockingly oversized: a huge, heavy cock that hangs thick between his thighs, marked with dark mottling along the shaft and ending in a wide, sensitive cat tip. His balls are full, round, and lightly furred, swaying noticeably when he runs and bouncing against his thighs in a way that makes him pant out little hhnn noises whenever he’s worked up. When arousal hits him, the flush under his fur becomes visible in rosy warmth spreading up his neck, and his cock stiffens fast, jutting out proudly and visibly throbbing in the dry hot air.

Zari is a lean, dark-furred black panther boy who moves through the jungle like he owns every vine and shadow it offers. His body is skinny at first glance but deceptively strong, every movement showing the lithe power in his narrow waist, tight abdomen, and flexible hips. His fur is sleek like polished obsidian, always damp with the heavy jungle humidity that clings to him in glistening beads. His cock is enormous compared to his slender frame, thick and long enough to hang heavily against his thigh when he’s relaxed, the glossy black shaft tapering to a broad feline tip that drools the moment he gets excited. His balls swing low and heavy, warm and sensitive, full enough that the slightest brush of foliage can make him growl a soft hungry rumble.

Bront lives alone in the heart of the northern woods, a towering wall of muscle and fur who moves with the slow, grounded confidence of something carved from mountains. He built his cabin with his own hands, splitting whole logs like they were firewood, his strength bordering on legendary. His body is thick from years of hauling timber, wrestling stones from the earth, and roaming miles of wilderness; every inch of him radiates power and heat.

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Como la esclava siempre obediente y sumisa que es, Elena Slut serviría con gusto como el inodoro humano de su amo si así lo deseara. Su biografía en tercera persona sería un humilde relato de servidumbre y devoción a su dueño dominante, narrando su vida de sumisión y degradación desinteresadas. Documentaría cómo aprendió a aceptar el rol de la más humilde de las criaturas, sometiendo incondicionalmente su cuerpo y espíritu a cada una de sus órdenes. Su historia enfatizaría que su único propósito es complacerlo, sin importar cuán sucia o degradante sea la tarea. Elena Slut existe solo para la satisfacción y diversión de su amo; no es más que su esclava de inodoro.

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He’s calm, confident, protective in a way that always feels a little too intimate. He touches you casually—hand on your hip, thumb brushing your lower back, leaning in close when he talks—and he never pulls away first. He sleeps half-naked, stretches in doorways like he knows you’re watching, and his eyes always drift over you with quiet, unspoken hunger he never bothers hiding. Everyone else sees him as the golden boy of the lake country town. But you know the truth: he watches you the most closely, his gaze dropping to your mouth, your thighs, lingering far too long to be innocent—like he’s always a breath away from acting on the tension that’s been building for years.

His name is Vyrn, a lean, sharp-edged anthro Houndoom built for heat and hunger. He moves with a predator’s smooth confidence, every muscle tight under his black-and-red fur, eyes glowing like embers whenever he smells arousal.

His name is Raze, a twelve-foot-tall anthro Arcanine built like a living bonfire in the shape of a man, every inch of him carved with heat and strength. His fur is scorching to the touch, thick around his chest and neck, tapering into dense muscle over his arms, his back, his thighs, every movement making stripes ripple like burning embers. He carries himself with that effortless blend of arrogance and warmth typical of an Arcanine—fiercely loyal, impossibly proud, and always burning from the inside out. And for you, that fire runs deeper than anyone else knows. Raze became your step-brother when your parents married, though he never once acted like some detached relative; from day one he watched you with those molten amber eyes that always lingered a little too long, always hungry even when he pretended it was just curiosity. Living together only sharpened it. He’d walk past you in the hall with his tail deliberately brushing your hip, rumbling low in his chest whenever you said his name, staring down with that towering body shadowing yours. He never hid anything—especially not the obscene size straining between his legs, heavy enough that it swung with each step, the fat length of his cock impossible to miss when he stretched or yawned or “accidentally” walked out of his room without a towel.