Chapter 5

“So, what...” I started to ask Craig some questions – a bunch of questions. I start to ask questions when I get nervous and uncertain.

“Speak,” Craig made it clear he was telling me to stop talking and only bark.

I blushed and stopped abruptly. I felt if he would just answer some of my questions I’d feel less nervous but I didn’t dare break a rule at the very start of things.

I said nothing. He waited for a moment. I finally barked once.

He led me back into the classroom. Mr. Devon didn’t stop his lecture. He looked annoyed, but he didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Craig took his seat and I sat up like a puppy at his side. “Down,” he said a single word and pointed to the floor.

I instinctively dropped down to the ground and pressed my boobs flat on the floor with my legs up, in a sort of flat-version of a crawl. It was the closest approximation I could do of a dog laying on her belly.

No one laughed, no one commented on me. They actually ignored me. I was certain some of them were watching me. I wanted to wipe my pussy, because it had begun to drip. I was too afraid that someone would think I was masturbating.

Craig didn’t give me another direction for the rest of the hour. I wasn’t sure the extent of instructions I should expect from him. I had been told by Mrs. Andrews that I had to obey him as my handler just like a good puppy. It was a very surreal feeling to surrender my free-will over to an older boy. He certainly didn’t seem inclined to abuse his authority and tease me or play with my body.

I have to admit – a strange part of me was disappointed and that made me feel like a very naughty slut. I definitely wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone at the time.

At the end of class, when the bell rang, he stood up and grabbed my leash like I was a dumb dog to be led out of the room. I suppose to him, that is exactly what I was. I felt like such a silly naked girl pretending to be a dog, but Craig treated me like I was just a dumb puppy and strangely that made me feel better about how I was expected to behave – almost as if he was giving me permission to do these things. I know that probably won’t make sense unless you’ve been in the Puppy Student Program.

“Young lady,” Mr. Devon stopped me on the way out. Craig stopped so that he could talk to me. “I want you to know that while I do not approve of your experiment, I do not fault you for your participation. You are the victim of a decade of propaganda that has made the Naked in School cause out to be a noble crusade to expand education and promote body positivity.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and I was still in barking mode. When I didn’t respond, he pointed out discreetly that I had a long strand of “dribble” as he called it hanging from my vagina.

Some wicked looking senior girls that had been slow to pack up to leave to watch the teacher address me giggled.

I reached behind myself and snapped off the strand of sticky pussy-juice and flung it away. Mr. Devon rolled his eyes and his body language suggested that the conversation was over.

Craig told me after we left, “You are not to flick any juices off your pussy. That is an entirely natural, physical reaction. If I need to clean you off, I will. Until then, you’ll just act like you have a runny nose coming out of your cunt. Is that understood?”

I was incredulous when he called my pussy a cunt. It was a word I never used – and it deeply offended me. The fact that I could not tell him my preference would be to refer to my vagina as a pussy or vagina infuriated me. It was another privilege I would miss.

“Ruff!” I barked once for yes, to indicate I understood.

People rushed around us to get to their next crowd, talking, laughing and cavorting around. Many of them were gawking at me. Several times a random shoe kicked me or stepped on me. Craig’s presence though seemed to part the waves of onlookers. Time seemed to slow down while he was talking.

He spoke very deliberately but not with the same sort of authority that Mr. Jordan did. He spoke as if he were disinterested and he was being inconvenienced to speak to you. Craig used an economy of words to express himself. It was almost as if he felt he was being charged by the word to speak and so he would use as few as needed to communicate with me.

“Next class is Architecture Principles with Mr. Kunkle.”

I laughed out loud when I heard the name “Kunkle”. It rhymed with Uncle and so I could only imagine someone calling him “Uncle Kunkle”

His flat expression transformed into a slight, humorless grin. “Yes, he’s heard it all, Uncle Kunkle, Dunkle Kunkle, get it out of your system. I am here for an education first. I’ve volunteered to be your handler, but that is not going to get in the way of my classwork,” he assured me.

I actually respected that very much. I barked once enthusiastically.

“Good, from now on, I want you to kneel in class, bend forward to flatten yourself, put your paws out in front of you and keep your head down.”

“Ruff!” I barked to indicate I understood.

He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening. Then he led me into his classroom. It was ALL guys – not a single girl in the Architecture class. There were only about 14 students. They were the geekiest types and they definitely undressed me with their eyes – even though I was naked.

“Mr. Hocker, I see you’ve brought a pet, but I am afraid that show and tell is next week,” Mr. Kunkle joked. He was a short bald man, slightly greying hair, with a yellow shirt and very ugly polyester pants. The teacher looked like he hadn’t updated his wardrobe since 1975. He reminded me of that actor Wallace Shawn that played Vizzini in the princess bride. He was the mastermind that kept repeating the catch phrase “Inconceivable.”

Craig only groaned in response and sat in his seat. I adopted the position I had been instructed to take. I expected Mr. Kunkle to continue to talk about me, but instead he launched into his lesson. It was fascinating. They talked about the principles of engineering and determining Perfect Architectural Proportions and The No-Fail Formula. Once the class began, the members of the class including Craig became far more talkative.

They got straight to the point and held a healthy debate with their instructor. I expected a boring lecture, but by the end I came out with a very healthy understanding of engineering. It wasn’t a field of study I had ever been interested in, but I was quite pleased.

“That probably bored you,” Craig said when the bell rang, and he began putting away his text book.

“Ruff! Ruff!” I barked no that it did not.

He arched an eyebrow and seemed skeptical.

We had to walk all the way across campus to get to his next campus. He didn’t hurry. He didn’t have to hurry. I scurried wherever I needed to go in class. I had an optimal route in mind, but my goal was to get to my class as early as possible – just in case anything happened.

Craig marched through the halls. His shoulders were back but there was no swagger. He seemed to have timed his arrival exactly so that he would arrive just as the bell rang. I would come to realize that this was intentional on his part and was not mere coincidence. He took his time and arrived with no time to spare.

We entered a huge auditorium, and I discovered that Craig was in the band. I suppose on some level that didn’t surprise me. He played the bugle. His bandmates consisted of mostly artsy-nerdy types. Some were extremely tiny and others were huge.

They tried to engage with me in conversation, but I could only bark in response. I looked up at Craig and pleaded for him to let me talk with my eyes, but he either did not care or understand my facial expression.

There was another student that was naked. He was a fairly decent looking guy with a little swagger. “Skipped School” was written in broad red marker across his chest. He seemed relatively amused to be naked and didn’t attempt to hide the fact that he sported a half-boner.

The teacher arrived a few minutes after the bell rang. The students were seated in their chairs warming up. I was down on the floor at Craig’s feet. The teacher’s name is Mrs. Duffy. She had dark curly hair and was probably in her 40s.

“Mr. Cavallari, please stand,” she summoned the naked student to his feet. He slowly got to his feet, it was obvious he had very little respect for the teacher.

“It seems you ditched my class yesterday,” she said.

“Yeah, you gonna spank me?” he laughed, and reached out his hand to get a high five from the student sitting next to him. The student didn’t return his high five.

“I was thinking something more performative,” Mrs. Duffy pointed to a raised dais where the conductor would stand.

“Beat my meat? Oh, I might want to ditch more often,” the cocky student swaggered up to the front dias.

“Johnny is going to show us how he gets himself off, I believe the experience will be illuminating.”

He was hairy all over, and not particularly muscular. His dick wasn’t entirely small, but it wasn’t massive either. I assumed it was about normal size. He started by standing awkwardly in the center of the room and holding his cock. He closed his eyes and began to pump his cock at a medium pace.

“Turn around, Mr. Cavallari,” she instructed.

He seemed reluctant but he obliged Craig’s teacher.

“Legs wider, Mr. Cavallari,” she added.

He obliged once again. I could see the hair in the crack between his ass.

“I believe today is as good as any to demonstrate how to milk your own prostate,” she informed everyone that there were particular benefits for males, including “Clearing the prostatic duct and reducing symptoms of prostatitis.”

“What do I got to do?” he sounded annoyed, as if he expected things to go poorly.

“Hold up on finger on your left hand,” she said then she told him “Your other left hand,” when he held up his right hand.

“Now, take that finger and reach behind yourself,” she said.

“Oh jeez,” Johnny finally figured out what he was expected to do.

“Push your finger into your asshole, until you feel a walnut shaped organ, about the size of your brain,” she advised. He had already began to dig his finger into his butt. “Now, push in about two inches and begin to gently massage.”

He was still stroking off while he played with his butt. “Now, take the hand on your cock and put it under your balls, on the skin between your asshole and your nuts, and start massaging with one finger.”

He groaned “How much time you got, Teach? This isn’t doing anything for me,” he assured her.

Tittering laughter spread across the room. I’d never seen anything like this, and I kept my head up so that I could watch.

“Just keep focusing on what turns you on, and tune the rest of the class out, Mr. Cavallari.”

“Ugh, urgh, oh fuck,” I heard him groan with pleasure and then his legs stiffened, his back arched and he began to shoot his load all over the stage. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,” he kept repeating over and over while the rest of the class giggled.

“There you have it, masturbation without touching that disgusting, tiny, penis,” Mrs. Duffy was pleased with the results. Johnny Cavallari must have been mortified. I felt embarrassed for him and I had only watched.

“Can I get down now, teach?” Johnny seemed at ease, and a little of his swagger was missing.

“Get down on your knees and clean my rostrum,” she instructed.

Johnny groaned but he did as he was told. The instructor ignored me and continued the lesson while Johnny was made to hold his own semen that he had collected from the floor in his hand. She made him stand right next to her while she directed the band.

After class, Craig looked down at me. “That guy is always getting detention. You are a freshman, right?”

“Ruff!”

“Have you ever seen a student have to perform?”

“Ruff! Ruff!”

“Have you ever seen a guy whack his weasel?” Craig seemed a little surprised.

“Ruff! Ruff!” I admitted. I knew my brother did it, and I’ve nearly walked in on him but I didn’t think that counted. I assumed Craig was asking if I had been with a boy and given him a handjob or masturbated with him.

“Well, you’ve seen it now,” he led me out of the room and told me he was taking me to eat lunch. “I’ll take you to shit and piss after you finish eating. Can you hold it?”

“Ruff!”

“Good girl,” he said. It was the first words of encouragement he had given me and it felt well-earned when he finally said it.

No one had stopped to make me perform a reasonable request in the hallways or before class began. I expected I’d be doing a bunch of weird (gross and humiliating) things all of the time. The fact that NIS was such a pervasive part of school life, though made it less of a novelty. It was surprising that I was willing to be touched on my most intimate body parts and let strangers explore me, and they didn’t take me up on it.

Students were inclined to giggle when they saw me padding down the hallway on a leash. I think they may have also been too busy or even confused by the spectacle to stop me. Craig had a very intimidating bearing and he may have scared off a few of them as well. I kind of liked that about Craig. I felt protected in a way.

At least, during class and in the hallways, that was how it was when I began the Puppy Student Program.

Students are allowed to touch me, so an occasional grope is to be expected. Since I was crawling, I was actually spared a lot of what girls in the NIS program experienced fairly regularly. A student would have to reach down pretty low to do more than stroke my neck or pat me on the head. I am not saying no one did – but no one groped me either. It was mostly little touches on the back or butt.

I was very self-conscious about my butt. I don’t mean because butts are stinky. All butts are at least a little stinky and disgusting. I am referring to the shape of my butt – it reminds me of a ripe peach.

You could probably bounce a quarter on my sister’s well-rounded ass. I felt like I had a bubble butt that was proportionally much larger than my boobs. Crawling naked made me feel like I was shaking two flesh-covered basketballs behind me everywhere I went. I imagined that my asshole and pussy was visible to everyone even with the tail swinging between my crack, and that everyone knew I was dripping wet, and my pussy was quivering.

The tail in my ass was easy enough to get used to. The base was wide, but it was long and slender about the size of someone’s index finger. You are mostly aware of it when it is swishing between your thighs while you crawl. I would say that it definitely draws the eyes to my backside though.

Craig didn’t tell me I would be eating on the raised dais until he brought me up on the raised platform. It had been constructed in the center of the lunchroom where people gather to buy lunch. I was elevated two feet off the ground and now my back was parallel with the chest of most boys.

This stage had been created for people in the NIS to stand on. I would imagine it was big enough for at least four students. It was probably four feet wide on all four sides.

It was probably only large enough for two students to crawl on and eat. Craig had a single generic stainless-steel bowl. He told me to wait on the stage on my hands and knees while he got my lunch.

“Speak,” he gave me permission to talk normally.

I unleashed a torrent of questions about what he was going to feed me, to whether or not I had to make reasonable requests while trying to eat my lunch. Craig didn’t answer any of my questions. He left me alone and went to fill the bowl.

I felt much more nervous when Craig had left. Just as I had felt my pubic hair had been some protection from total nudity, his absence filled me a dread. I had just met him and even though he had said less than twenty words to me all day – I felt like he was my guardian. If he wasn’t with me – I was alone!

I should say that the lunchroom was busy and a little chaotic. There were kids in line walking past me. Most ignored me, and the sound of their conversations muddled together. There were a couple naked kids. I saw two naked boys standing together in line. They both had dark pubic hair and average sized dicks.

It was mostly just girls that shaved their pubes for NIS week.

I wondered why they weren’t hard. I assumed they’d be as excited as I was. I was dripping. Even though I wasn’t the only naked person- I still felt like everyone was looking at me because I was making a total spectacle of myself on the stage as I waited to be fed. I could definitely hear the tittering laughter above all else and assumed it was always about me.

I don’t want to say it was sexually pleasant, but the nervous, awkwardness of it all was making me wet, and that made me feel even naughtier – because it was like this shameful secret. My pussy was soaked, and people were passing within inches of my body, and they didn’t know. I assumed maybe some did know – I could smell my pussy juices.

Boys frequently touched my thigh, or rubbed my ribcage. I don’t think random touching like that even counted as a reasonable request. It was mostly non-sexual petting but it still turned me on in ways I hated to admit. I found myself wishing a few weren’t just breezing by and patting me as they went.

I heard some girls walking up behind me. It made me nervous to be totally exposed to them – and unable to see them without looking over my shoulder. I could hear them over the din of the crowd because they were laughing, they were talking about me and coming right up behind me. My feet almost hung off the platform. One of them grabbed the bottom of my feet and began to play with my toes.

“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed went naked to school, This little piggy had fat pussy lips that looked like raw roast beef, This little piggy had flat tits. This little piggy went ... WEE, WEE, WEE! all the way home!”

There was no mistaking the voice of my sister’s rival Mary Collins. She was completely naked, but she had the audacity to tease me. I suppose it was comforting that I was even more humiliated than she was.

“You are Katie Jenkin’s little sister, piggy?” she asked.

“You know my name. It is Ashley,” I looked over my shoulder. Mary was flanked by two girls who were both wearing clothes.

“You know if they ever have a piggy student program, I think you’d just be perfect. You have that turned up pig noise,” she reached up and grabbed my nose and told me to oink for her.

I pulled away and she got excited as if I just made her day. “I am telling! You have to let me touch you!”

I groaned. I was not the kind of girl to get in trouble and it was an accident. Craig returned with a single bowl. He had mixed gravy train (a sort of dry dog food with water that makes gravy) with water and a small half-pint of milk. I told him that I was allowed half-human food but he didn’t acknowledge my concerns.

He went to sit down nearby and eat his own lunch.

Mary didn’t want me to pay attention to Craig. She wanted me to pay attention to her. She liked to call me a “little brown-noser” as well because I had a dab of brown make-up on my nose (to make it look like a puppy’s nose).

“Brown-noser, how about you kiss my ass?” she demanded.

I ignored her. My pussy tensed up and quivered a little. I couldn’t help it. Mary was only a year older than me but so much more mature. She was like a wicked version of Katie on many different levels and unlike Katie she was REALLY unpleasant.

I saw Mr. Jordan the black P.E. teacher head toward me. I was grateful for any respite from Mary and hoped he would intervene. He didn’t. He remained impassive and calm. It was rare for a student to haze someone in NIS or tease them – but it happened and it was part of the process.

As long as there was no physical altercation (punching/hair-pulling), they could say what they wanted, and you just had to take it.

He was holding Mrs. Andrews leash while she crawled along side him. He had a very somber look on his face. I felt crestfallen and I knew I’d probably be in trouble. He was holding a sign in one hand.

When he got close to me, Mrs. Andrews climbed up on stage with me. He placed the sign in front of us.

PUPPY STUDENT PROGRAM – NOW ACCEPTING VOLUNTEERS. This counts as your NIS requirement and other benefits include high school academic credit, scholarships, and additional funding for Lyman High!!

The fine print below that read in smaller print “Reasonable requests are permitted during lunch. One to a student and no repeats. Puppies are practicing abstinence and may not masturbate or be masturbated. They can be touched. You can touch but not insert anything. Play with puppies as you would a dog at home. Puppies are permitted to answer questions during lunch, but understand they have to eat too! Puppies may not remove their tail, but you can remove it to get a better view. If you are uncomfortable removing their tail, see their handler nearby. Do not walk off with their tail.”

Below that was a list of reasonable requests that were specific to the PSP program – “Ask them to Sit, Sit-Up, Beg, Roll-Over, Present, Play Dead, or Bark!”

“Hey, fancy a little lunch company?” she commiserated with me. Mr. Jordan went to get some lunch for her. “I am just checking in with you. How are you liking the program so far?”

“Liking it?” I scrunched my nose.

“I understand,” Mrs. Andrews was impossibly optimistic. She wasn’t one of those happy ditz’s that paints everything rainbows and marmalade. She was warm and genuinely bright and cheery – the definition of an optimist. “I was told you wouldn’t let a student play with your nose?”

“She wanted me to oink like a piggy!” I protested.

“We have a zero-tolerance on bullying at Lyman High, and I want you to tell me if anyone is mean to you,” Mrs. Andrews nodded at me so that I understand. “However, I hate to have to break it to you, Ashley. Girls are mean,” she let that linger for a moment. “if someone wants to play with your nose, you have to let them. You don’t have to snort like a pig, and you can tell her that but sometimes its best to just play along.”