Chapter 11

We picked up a few things we needed for my sister’s daily challenge, including a string bikini. I went into the dressing room and watched her change. I was quite surprised that no one batted an eye, until they found out I was her brother and not her boyfriend.

“I can’t believe I am doing this,” my sister was standing behind the car door in a remote section of the parking lot of the town square. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky but even though the sun was shining it was a brisk day.

We had specifically chosen a place we could be relatively private. I say we because Taylor helped me find a suitable spot. I do not know how to describe my sister’s transformation. She had experience wearing body paint and applying it, but I didn’t. I thought it was going to be a big mess.

We began by covering her hips and upper chest with a base of blue paint. Then she applied highlights. “It’s just like applying contours and eye shadow,” Taylor used fine brushes to paint in white “Spay and Neuter your pets” and “PETA” on her breasts. She included lettering about a local animal shelter.

We clipped two dog bone shaped tags that were designed to be worn under a dog’s collar to cover her nipples. She painted a white bone over her bald pussy and wrote “iDog”.

Most of what we needed for this we bought at the local pet store and dollar store. We bought a cheap plastic pom-pom and shredded it. I super glued it to the base of my sister’s anal beads. When she shook her ass, it looked like a playful bushy dog tail.

“Now remember,” I went over the rules with her as defined by the headmistress. “You can only say iDog. If someone asks you what you are doing, what do you say?”

“iDog, Ruff” my sister barked enthusiastically.

“Good puppy,” I reminded her she could shake her head and do pantomime but that she would be punished for speaking to any passerby.

The wording for the sign we were going to post in front of the flagpole in the middle of the town square read:

I AM EXERCISING MY FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHT TO FREE SPEECH TO MAKE PEOPLE AWARE DURING THIS BUSY CHRISTMAS SEASON NOT TO ADOPT PUPPIES AT CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. 87% OF PUPPIES ADOPTED AS GIFTS ARE RETURNED TO THE SHELTER. THIS IS PERFORMANCE ART AND I ASK THAT YOU DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TOUCH MY LEASH. YOU MAY PET ME AS I AM A GOOD GIRL AND WILL NOT BITE.

PLEASE DO NOT FEED

In smaller letters we wrote with marker that this was a “PG-13 performance art piece governed under State Law, under Title 18, Chapter 59 of public indecency laws, affirming that this is for public awareness and is no way an attempt at public lewdness. Donations are not accepted, and any and all money left in front of the performer will be donated to the Much Love Dog Shelter in the name of the Chi-Omega Sorority.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I am doing this,” my sister pinched her clit and re-applied some blue paint. She was having difficulty keeping the paint on around her increasingly wet pussy. “Am I a fool?” she asked herself rhetorically.

“I thought you do this all the time at the Arkansas University campus?”

“I do, I do,” my sister nodded and remained focused on coating her pussy lips so that it looked like she was wearing a pair of bikini bottoms. “It’s just there the students know what to expect and most of them will just tease you. What if people spit on me or freak out?”

“According to the House Mistress, you are to take it, and bark at them. You’ve got to be leashed there for four hours. Do you want to back out now? I wouldn’t blame you.”

“And give up being a Chi-Ho? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I like you like you are, Taylor, but I don’t want you to get arrested.”

My sister’s pretty blue eyes grew wide. “You don’t think I’d get arrested? We had TWO Law Grad Students review the state laws before assigning me this task,” my sister appeared visibly shaken.

“Wait, you knew you’d get this task?”

“I mean, I know it is one of the tasks, yeah.”

I didn’t know how things worked in her sorority, but I assumed that the local cops might be assholes and arrest her even if she had the law on her side. I decided that I was probably making her unnecessarily nervous. My sister was stubbornly going to do this and I was assigned to help her. I was kind of flattered to be involved.

“I noticed you’ve been painting over your thunder thighs tattoo, I thought you were proud of it?”

One thing I realized when my sister applied the body paint was that she had covered up her tattoos. I hadn’t been paying attention when she wore her short sweater around the house. The tattoo is on her inner thigh and I just thought it was obscured by how she was standing.

“That’s foundation, you goober.” (a skin toned type of makeup she used as a base.)

“Hey,” I swatted her hard on the ass and in the process I covered my hand in blue paint.

“Sorry Sir, don’t smear my paint. You can spank me later! I am just nervous, okay?” It was surreal to hear my sister who usually seemed confident and composed was ever nervous about anything. It made her seem more like area person.

She explained she used something called ‘foundation’ as a base to cover up skin blemishes, bruises, and her tattoo. It was surreal to hear that my perfect sister ever had skin blemishes. She smiled brightly when I told her that and explained that was the point of the foundation. “It hides the imperfections”

“So why do you want to hide your tattoo? I thought you were proud of earning it and accepted what you are?”

“Well, it would distract from the iDog costume, don’t you think, Sir?” my sister stuck out her ass so I could correct the smeared butt paint.

“I meant around Mom and Dad and stuff. You’ve been covering it up at home,” I reminded her.

“I didn’t want Brandon to see it. He wouldn’t understand,” she smirked ruefully.

“I thought you were curious about the size of Brandon’s cock and all of that?” I teased her.

“I was just theorizing you two compared pecker sizes. You thought about my body. You don’t think I thought about the two of you?”

I hadn’t ever thought that was a possibility until she told me she had. I assumed most girls thought I was invisible. “Brandon sees me as this perfect, older sister who tickles him and I don’t want to ruin his illusion, okay?”

“What if I insist you call him Sir or Mister Brandon at home?” I teased.

“I would do that.”

I didn’t respond to that. It shocked me she would even address my little brother with respect. I attached a collar and leash to her and let her preen for the camera and ostensibly the Head Mistress. The Head Mistress wasn’t talking on the other side of the line, but I assumed they were recording all of this for later review.

My job was to run interference for her and film the entire thing. I was nervous FOR my sister though. She was the naked one (despite the paint and the strategically placed tail and dog tags) she was still for the most part completely naked.

It was still early on a clear day and there weren’t many people. The park was a simple plaza about 50 yards from one side to the other. There was a sidewalk extending around it and criss-crossing through it. There were a few park benches and trash bins but not much else to see here. There was no playground or picnic tables. Most of the traffic through this plaza would consist of people cutting through it to get to the shops or courthouse on the other side.

The flagpole dominated the center of the park. That was our destination. There would sometimes be buskers playing saxophone or guitar for a little spare cash, I was thankful today no one was already there when we arrived.

“What if you run into some old boyfriends that recognize you?” I said as we strolled through the town square for the short walk from the parking lot.

“Are you trying to freak me out, sir?”

“No,” I realized that was probably unfair.

“You can both laugh at what I have become, or you can pass out some of my challenge coins and give them our address if they want to come find me after. I am just going to bark and look at them like a dumb bimbo.”

“You are a dumb bimbo.”

Taylor offered me a broad smile and said she would hug me if her paint wasn’t still wet. I guess that was something she needed to hear. I was simply repeating one of the insults the Head Mistress had told her. I didn’t think she was dumb – but she really was a bimbo! Now, more than ever.

“Are you going to tell me to get down on all fours and heel like a puppy or make me do it on my own, Sir?”

“Heel, doggy!”

Still smiling my vivacious sister got down on all fours once we arrived at the plaza. I attached her leash to the rope and tied it off so that it wouldn’t be easy for it to be removed. My sister began to get into the act of playing the role of a silly, playful pup. There wasn’t anyone in the plaza yet, so I thought she was over-acting as a warm-up.

However, she maintained that same silly performance throughout our time at the plaza. The sign was good enough for some people. Most people smiled, walked up to her and read the sign.

The most common type of man were usually the ones who intentionally avoided eye contact and walked briskly when they saw my sister cavorting around the plaza restrained by the leash. They usually looked like they had someplace to be or if they were walking with their wife seemed concerned that she would be mad if she caught them looking.

The second most common was the kind I termed the looky-loo. The looky-loo was ALWAYS by himself. He would discreetly post up on a bench as if he was resting. I’d catch him staring at my sister and then he’d look away. If I tried to talk to them and tell them that they were welcome to interact with her, they would immediately leave.

The most common type of woman stared daggers at my sister. That look she gave me the first night I caught her playing with herself was still burned into my soul. These were more subtle angry looks most of the time. The majority of women regarded my sister with scorn and ridicule.

None of this seemed to bother my sister. She was lost in her performance and she kept skipping around, often sniffing the air and chasing after them while they walked. She was restrained by the leash so she could only crawl a short distance.

While she was on all fours, her bushy tail obscured her asshole and cunt lips from view. However, everyone could see her butt crack and knew she was naked. Her tits hung down under her body, but no one could see her stiff nipples because they too were technically covered by the dog tags.