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With careful attention, Cecil folded yet another piece of paper from his notebook into an airplane, this one a glider. The Glaceon felt he was quite skilled at such artistic origami, having made his own types of gliders and stunt planes during English, the least favorite of all his classes. Of course, more than a few of them were confiscated from his very hands the moment he made them by the teacher of this particular course, a prim and proper Leavanny.

Sure enough, just as he had finished the final fold, holding it up to his deep blue eyes to examine the symmetry, it was snatched away by the bug-type Professor and dropped into her drawer.

"This is English class, not goof-off time," she said, closing the drawer full of paper airplanes with a loud smack. "Try to pay attention, for your sake. You'll get your planes back when class is over."

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Glaceon gave an upset grumble, scrunching his nose up into a pout. She didn't have to lecture him in front of the entire class! Even that cute Growlithe girl whose locker was right next to his was laughing! The Leavanny gave another pointed glare at the boy, who finally uncurled arms and picked up the book they were studying, The Catcher in the Tall Grass. The ice-type found the story unbearably boring.

That yellowed, old book only held his interest for just a few more pages before there was another piece of paper on his desk, this one in the process of being folded to a quick darting plane, with a sharp point. It looked like it'd be his fastest flying one yet, though a bit difficult to control. Building such a plane filled Cecil with childish joy, wanting to toss it immediately, teacher be damned. And so, pulling his arm back and flicking it forward, he set the paper airplane into motion.

It sliced through the air like a Bulletpunch, at first. Then, it twisted upwards as it swooshed over a rather chubby Charmander's tail, lifted from the open flame and banking hard to the right. Turning his tasseled head to follow, the Glaceon gave a grimace. That pointed plane had made a turn right towards the narrating teacher, and right down her open collared shirt.

"Ack!" she yelped, which didn't help the Glaceon's cause, as he laughed at her reaction. "Cecil! To the principal's office, right now!" ordered the livid Leavanny.

"Y-yes Miss Jones..." mumbled the Glaceon in reply, picking up his papers and tossing them in a bag before trotting out slowly. That bug could be scary when she was mad! As he walked out of the door, he could hear the sound of crumpling paper, and frowned harder, making a point to slam the door shut, just as she resumed narration.

Stomping his feet down the hall, it was a surprise that the Glaceon didn't also get a talking to by the Watchog hall monitor, though that strict 'mon would just order him to the principal's office. Passing by his locker, the boy stowed his backpack and papers, not wanting them to be confiscated due to his reputation. Besides, they had all his plans for good gliders doodled in the margins!

Finally, he had reached the office, and creaked open the door, the knob at his neck-height. Inside was another adult he didn't particularly like, the Blaziken secretary. Truth be told, he had never really spoken with her, other than the first day he enrolled, and that memory was fogged out by the memory of the much more overbearing Arcanine principal he met next, with his father.

What was it that the Arcanine had said? They did punishments different than in public school? The Glaceon highly doubted that--he'd probably just be sent into after-school detention or something because of his actions, especially since paper airplanes were so common amongst the other students. Coming to a desk just a few inches shorter than his neck, he cleared his throat.

"I was told to see the p-principal," he said shyly, tilting his head forward so his two long bangs could cover most of his face. Fire and Fighting... eeyuck, what a mix, he thought, biting his lower lip. She could probably break him like a twig! That Blaziken continued her writing, looking up for a moment, before back down at her paper. Cecil examined her desk, finding a name-plate. "Miss Evans?" he asked again, unsure if she heard him, though she did look.

"Of course, one moment please," she waved, pointing with a clawed finger towards a chair in the corner. This is it, thought Cecil. This is where I'll be sitting for the rest of the day as punishment. He shivered, thinking how boring it would be, how horrible that the only sound he'd here is the ticking of the analog clock behind the Blaziken, and the scribbling of her pencil. He almost wished he had a book with him, anything to cure that mind-numbing boredom that he'd soon feel. A sharp "boop" shook him out of his self-imposed fantasy.

"Principal Motzer, a student needs to talk to you," said the secretary into a buzzer. There was a silent second in return.

"I'm free now. Send him in, Courtney," the buzzer buzzed back, the voice on the other line polite as Cecil had remembered the male.

The Glaceon stood up, looking at the Blaziken. She nodded him the go ahead, and off that boy walked, grasping the brass handle of that heavy door and pushing it forward, stepping inside. Immediately, Cecil smelt cinnamon, like a Christmas candle, or some spiced cookies. It wasn't too overpowering, just strange to have in November. Looking down at the floor, he spotted a stain that wasn't there the first time he was in this office, right by the chair the Arcanine was gesturing him to sit in.

"So, what brings you here?" asked the 'nine, crossing his fingers and resting his chin upon them, elbows acting like supports. He stared at the Glaceon deeply, trying to remember the boy's name. While he was rather good with names in general, those from Eevee families were always the hardest for him to remember. Not only that, but one of the English teachers was complaining about a Glaceon in her class who threw paper airplanes almost every day.

"Uh... Miss Jones told me to come here after I tossed an airplane down her shirt..." Cecil muttered, his hands bunched together in his lap, shoulders hiked up and a big blush on his face. Just saying that sounded dirty! "It was an accident! Jerry's tail-flame made it go off course!" he attempted to reason, and get a lesser punishment before he even knew what it was.

"Hmm, I see," the principal rumbled in return, giving a sagely nod. So it was the same Glaceon--not to mention the one who had transferred just a few weeks ago. His name... his name.... Cecil! "I believe I told you that we do punishments differently around here, didn't I, Cecil?" asked the Arcanine, looking pointedly at the Glaceon.

"Ah, uh, yes," replied the shy critter, his legs starting to sway and rock nervously.

"Do you also remember your father giving me the okay to deliver any punishment I see fit?"

Cecil nodded.

"Good. You see, at a private institution, we're not limited like the public schools you've gone to. I am also determined to keep order within my school. Some trouble makers don't really care about suspensions, or expulsion, so I've got to craft some... fitting punishments for them."

That Glaceon gave a gulp. This wasn't sounding too good. He'd heard stories of kids getting the belt or ruler smacked over their knuckles before, and neither of which sounded very enticing! His indigo eyes followed the Arcanine as he stood up, making his way to a cabinet with a silver key.

"Many students have come through my office before with similar stories of paper airplanes. I've collected quite the amount of models as well, for punishment purposes," continued the Arcanine picking up one and giving the propellers on the wings a bit of a spin. "Do you like real airplanes? Or are you more partial to the paper ones?" he asked, setting that model down, and picking up a larger one, a commercial Boeing 707. Its smooth surface was taken over by dust, and the Arcanine brushed one of his wrists over it, wiping it clean, and setting it down on his desk.

"I dunno..." muttered Cecil in reply, trying to shrink down in his seat. He wanted to become invisible, or at the very least really small. "I like making new paper airplanes... but I don't think I could make a real one," he said a bit innocently. The principal gave a small smile.

"Hm, well, after punishment, I think you'll have a new introspective onto airplanes, at the very least," said the Arcanine, still digging through that locked cabinet. He brought out something with a lot of straps, and set it behind the airplane, where the Glaceon couldn't see. Finally, he pulled out what looked like a tube of super-glue, and set it flat on the table, closing the cabinet and locking it.

The fire-dog made his way to those heavy doors, flicking closed the lock on them and walking behind Cecil's seat, stopping behind him as the Glaceon looked up.

"Stand up, please," ordered the Arcanine, giving a coercive grin. The ice-type obeyed, not wanting to get into bigger trouble than he already was. As he stood, the Arcanine pulled the chair away from behind him, leaving the critter just standing on the carpeted floor. He tried to straighten his back, only to bend too far and adjust by slumping forward a bit. Before he realized it, a dark band fell across his eyes, becoming blindfolded and helpless to the Arcanine's will.

"Uh, mister..." he began, trying to remember the other male's name, but failing. He knew the secretary had said it before, and it was even on the Arcanine's door! Too late to look now, and he bit his lip.

"Motzer," replied the principal, as if knowing what Cecil was planning on asking. He had returned to his desk, picking up the strapped, black object from before and walked back, giving orders. "If you don't want to fall over, I suggest following my instructions," he began, placing a warm pair of paws upon the Glaceon's pants-button, undoing it with a swift, possibly practiced movement.

"H-huh?" replied the Glaceon, a bit shocked that the principal would put his hands there. He lifted his own up to peek through the blindfold, only to receive a sharp response in return:

"Stay still!" ordered the Arcanine. The boy immediately froze, not wanting to incur any of the wrath of that normally soft-spoken principal. He felt those big paws continue to work at his zipper, pulling it downwards and expose a pair of dark blue boxer shorts, fitting loosely. Then, those hands moved away from his crotch, one placing itself behind the Glaceon's back, and the other at the heel of his shoe, starting to pull it off.

"W-wah!" the boy said, starting to fall backwards, only to be caught by the fire-type's warm hand. He breathed a sigh of relief, before it happened yet again as his other shoe was removed, leaving him in a pair of crew-socks, indigo. The Arcanine must have decided to keep them on, the Glaceon thought, feeling his hands return to that waistband and tug down, stripping him of his pants and boxers in one swift movement, bunching down at the boy's ankles.

This time, Cecil was prepared, and stepped out of his shorts, though he still thought it to be strange that the Arcanine needed to strip him for punishment, let alone blindfold him!

"M-mister Motzer...?" he began, only to be quickly shushed and told to pick up his leg. One foot stepped into a strap, then the other into another strap. They felt weird on his fur, tight already, despite being just around his calves. Both loops were pulled up his legs, squeezing around his thighs while a second line found its way around the back of his thighs, pulled up and over his tail, slapping tightly there.

"Since young boys your age get so much pleasure with throwing around paper airplanes, your punishment will be to have that pleasure denied to you," said the Arcanine, reaching up and fitting some sort of cup over the Glaceon's sheath. He could just barely see through a crack on the bottom of the blindfold. It felt cool and leathery, seeming to fit the form of his sheath almost perfectly tight. "Of course, I don't do this punishment too often, as it requires my tools to leave this office, which I dislike," he continued, wrapping a strap around the ice-type's tight ball-sack, and pulling it snug. "That should do," he mumbled to himself, bringing out a zip-tie.

His hands darted out of site, and the Glaceon looked straight forward, not wanting to get caught peeking through his blindfold. For some reason, the cool leather of that strap seemed to make his sheath tingle, like it did whenever he thought the Growlithe girl in his class. But, as his sheath began to swell, he found that the thing the principal put over his peepee wouldn't expand, and stayed tight. He gave a small whine, wiggling a bit as the Arcanine finalized that "punishment" device, binding it secure with a zip-tie pulled tight.

A warm breeze blew between the Glaceon's thighs, ruffling the fur on his sack, as well as his bare bottom. Whatever that thing was, it left his rear completely exposed, with two straps pulling up his cheeks. He wanted to pull off the blindfold, but held his hands as steady as he could by his sides, wrists brushing up against the stretchy straps.

"Stay here," ordered the Arcanine, as he walked to the other side of the room, rustling papers and things atop his desk. Cecil fidgeted, before raising a hand to his blinding band, lifting it up and examing the object wrapped around his crotch. It was definitely made of leather, with some semi-stretchy straps to hold it up, though at second glace they weren't as stretchy as he had thought. A sheath-molding cup made from leather hugged his crotch tightly. There was a small opening at the top, probably for going to the restroom. The Glaceon's fingers drifted downward, rubbing under his balls, feeling that snug strap, unable to even get his finger beneath it. It seemed to be tied tightly with a zip-tie too, so no way to get it unlocked unless he felt like taking a pair of scissors dangerously close to his sack.

His eyes flicked over to the Arcanine, who was unscrewing the cap on the tube he had pulled out. It looked as if he'd come back any second, so Cecil replaced his blindfold and rested his hands at his sides, waiting for the Arcanine to return. And, sure enough, the large firedog did, lumbering over the short Glaceon, grasping him loosely by the arm, guiding him across the room. The Glaceon heard the sound of fur on fabric, and glimpsing through the corner of his blindfold he spied the Arcanine sitting down in the other seat for students.

Suddenly, he was pulled forward, bent over the Arcanine's thigh, feeling his tail lifted up high by another of the fire-type's paws. A second leg pulled up behind his pair, the Glaceon finding himself pinned between them, and a warm paw fall on his bottom.

"Are you gonna spank me...?" he asked, unsure if he was allowed to speak yet, but needing to know badly. The only times he had been spanked were when he did something really bad, but even then he still had on a pair of shorts. That paw on his bottom seemed to make his crotch grow tighter, the cup around it pulling tight on his balls as it stretched just a little bit. Then, it stopped expanding, seeming to tighten suddenly, though the truth was that the only thing getting smaller was the space between the Glaceon's arousal and that firm leather device.

"Now, I've already told you how we handle punishments around here," the Arcanine said in reply, rubbing his hand on that buttocks, giving it a slight squeeze. He adjusted that jockstrap, moving it to be completely snug around the Glaceon's bottom. "I believe in punishments that fit the crime. If you tell lies, I will wash your mouth out with soap. If you hit another student, I will punish physically. But for the students who like tossing around paper airplanes, I've got a special solution for them."

Cecil felt the Arcanine lean over him, picking up something off his desk and returning to sitting with the Glaceon in his lap, back straight. The ice-type heard a low swishing noise, like the sound syrup makes while in its container, followed by a pop. His limp ears perked up slightly, trying to determine what was going on above him, only to give out a loud cry of surprise when he felt a finger covered in a cool, slippery surface press up under his tail, right against his pucker.

"Aa! W-what's that?" gasped the Glaceon, squeezing his eyes shut, and biting his lower lip. Just that single finger seemed to stretch his tight hole wide, he could hardly think of anything bigger fitting in there, which the Arcanine seemed to imply. The poor ice-type squirmed around, grunting and whining at times as that finger pushed in deeper, pulling upward and to the side. It stretched that ring, coating it with lubricant at the same time, before pulling out with a soft pop.

Cecil didn't get an answer to his question, feeling the Arcanine pour more of that slippery substance onto his fingers above him, and press two this time into his hole, stretching it even wider. It stung slightly, though not nearly as much as the initial poke, especially since now his hole was wet with lubricant. Biting his lower lip, the Glaceon attempted to bear it, but the increasing pressure in his crotch, with nowhere to vent, as well as that stretching soreness in his rear was enough to make him cry out.

"Nnhh! Owww...!" he whined, squeezing his eyes shut, though hidden behind his blindfold. Not only was his bottom and groin sore, but so where his legs, feeling a bit of tingling soreness move up them as he stood. When a third finger pushed its way into his hole he buckled, falling forward, ass bent right over the Arcanine's thigh, tail high enough to no longer need to be held up, having fallen up his back. "Aah... I'll be good, I promise!" the Glaceon begged, panting hard as those three digits stretched his hole wider and wider, the lubricant dripping deep into his hole, smearing together his cheeks when the touched.

"You haven't even been punished yet," the fire-type Principal replied, tsking a bit. "But don't worry, you're just about ready. After all, I intend to punish, not torture," said he, pulling all three fingers out, a welcome relief for Cecil. Of course, he had no knowing of what was to come next. Again, he heard the sound of lubricant sloshing out of its bottle, this time applied to something other than the adult's fingers.

Even with that blindfold on, the Glaceon realized what was being poked against his pucker this time. The smooth, gradually enlarging tip of the model airplane shown to him earlier was going to be pushed up there! He gasped, clenching and trying to push it out, only to fail, as it steadily moved forward centimeter by centimeter, widening his already stretched hole.

"Nuhhh! No! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to throw a plane at her! Please don't!" he pleaded, starting to kick and squirm, though the Arcanine's strong legs held him steady as he wiggled, and from his position the boy was in no way able to twist himself back up and smack the plane out of the principal's hands. Tears rolled down his cheeks, most soaked up by his blindfold, though a few dropped on the carpeted floor. Despite that painful stretching in his bottom, his member felt strange.

The Glaceon was no stranger to masturbation, having discovered it a grade before, but in his limited experience the boy thought he could only pleasure by rubbing. And so, his growing stiffy, though stunted by his chastity belt, was a mystery to him. He leaked a clear, slippery substance through that pee-hole in the belt, dripping out onto and then completely becoming absorbed by the Arcanine's thigh from the stimulation, barely able to stop his shivers and whimpers.

So far, the principal remained silent while delivering his punishment, only the sound of the Glaceon's begs, whines, and the noise of that model plane noisily schlicking as it was pressed deeper, nearly down to the wings. That pink pucker stretched wide around it, pulsing slightly as Cecil's heart throbbed, and his ring shimmered with clear lubricant. Slowly, the 'nine removed that model, coaxing a groan of relief from the Glaceon, and a shudder up the back of his thighs. He stopped once an inch of the plane remained, the smallest part, and started to push back inside, giving a rotate to it. Rolling the model clockwise, Andrew "drilled" that buttocks.

"Mmff... aahh... wahh..." blubbered the Glaceon, random jolts of pleasure spiking up his back and into that chastity belt, where they were trapped, unable to become free, locked in by that ziptie. Though he couldn't see, Cecil could feel the drips of lubricant roll down his taint and onto that chastening device, every little bump of the model airplane's windows and sides. They tickled at his inner walls, giving small jolts of pleasure, though not nearly enough to outweigh the desperateness of his erection, trying futilely to push off that leather cup.

Still, silence in return. The Arcanine was focused, determined. He continued to roll that model deeper and deeper, centimeter by centimeter until it was right up to the wings once more, just the slightest motion able to tweak the nose of the airplane a fine amount. Cecil could feel mister Motzer pause behind him, and then slowly begin to maneuver the airplane model in a slow crescent shape, twisting it forward, towards the boy's belly. He scanned back and forth, moving at a snail's pace, listening carefully to the ice-type's breath, pausing when it suddenly hiked up into a gasp, and the nose of the plane hit a bump inside that rear.

"Now then... let's begin your actual punishment," Principal Motzer said, his voice rather low and dominating. Before Cecil could even mumble out a confused response, his vocal center let out an instinctual groaning moan, feeling that plane nudge into a particularly sensitive to pleasure spot. The chastity belt along his waist grew tighter and tighter, filled out fully and hardly stretching to accommodate his ever growing arousal.

"Haaa! Aahh!" he gasped, paws finally finding some place to grip, Motzer's pant-leg, and tugging it tight, bunching the fabric up in his fist. "Nhaa! T-take this thing off me!" he pleaded, no longer caring about the object in his rear but the sheer amount of pleasure flowing from it being blocked by the leather chastity. His balls, having dropped recently, had no idea on how to handle the rushes of hormones sent out from the prostate milking, and were as blind as the Glaceon was.

Cecil threw his head back, giving a loud groan as the surge of pleasures built up higher and higher, seeming to grow without reaching a peak. He recognized the feeling, coming from when he rubbed himself for a long time, but never so soon, and never to this height. It seemed as if it would not stop piling up! A moment later, the Glaceon realized the true nature of his punishment, and let out an anguished moan.

"Nooooo..." he whined, squeezing his fists tightly around that pant-leg, pulling on it and squirming in all sorts of ways. It didn't help, couldn't help. In fact, just the movements made that agonizingly growing, on-coming yet never arriving orgasm worse. His mind and face grew hot, not just from the blood rushing to his head, having nowhere else to go with that arousal locked up, but also from the sheer amount of sensations jamming through his lower half. He needed relief badly, anything to stop that ever-growing relief-less pleasure.

It was almost hurting now, how close he was to the edge, yet how far it was away. His sheath felt as if it would explode, stuffed full by the Glaceon's chastity, not even an ounce of freedom allowed from it. Cecil could swear that the entire thing tightened every time his heart throbbed, pulsing completely over the length and cinching tighter.

"Feeling punished?" asked Motzer, voice low, though not quite monotone. He was enjoying this discipline too, after all, there'd be little point in coming up with it if he didn't like it. The Principal hardly even had to ask too, the streams of tears coming down from beneath that blindfold, and the bemoaned cries all the reason he needed to know what Cecil was feeling.

"Y... y... y..." tried to answer the exhausted Glaceon, though his vocal cords seemed to fail him, and not even a single word could escape his mouth. He lied limply across the Arcanine's leg, clenching up once as he felt the airplane slowly slip free from his hole, that ring unable to squeeze back down to the tightness it had started at initially. Excess lubricant leaked from it, the muscle weak and twitching. Finally, he regained enough motor-skill to stand up, removing that blindfold.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the principal's tented shorts, which quickly were covered by a paw as he adjusted himself. The Glaceon gave a tugging to his chastity, trying to take it off, only to find it securely fastened, locked in place by the zip-tie.

"That stays on for a week longer," mister Motzer said commandingly, standing up and brushing off his pants. There was a damp stain on the leg from where the Glaceon had leaked through the chastity belt's hole, as well as a small patch of wetness at his own crotch. "Take a seat," he ordered, moving aside and picking up Cecil's clothing from his desk. The boy was a bit weary, wincing as he sat down on the chair and giving out a small grunt of pain.

"I'll make my daddy take it off..." he huffed, turning his head away as the Arcanine kneeled in front of him, sliding on the Glaceon's underwear, which fitted nicely over that chastity belt. "You'll see!" he pouted, crossing his arms.

Andrew pulled that pair of pants forward, slipping one of Cecil's legs in first. "Actually, your father won't do a thing. He signed a contract that says he has to respect my punishments, and inform me if you try to escape them," lied the Arcanine. The other leg was set to go in now, and that's what he guided. "So, if you go whining to daddy, he'll tell me and your punishment will become twice as harsh," continued the fire-dog, lifting up the 'eon's rump so he could slide the butt of his pants underneath, and zip them up. "Let's just say that was the smallest of my models," finished he with a practiced smile.

That Glaceon glared down with an impotent stare. His blue arms crossed and he looked away, puffing out his cheeks. It was clear that he didn't accept what the Arcanine was saying, but so far he had told the truth, and there was no reason not to believe him now. The principal turned away now, starting to put away the tools of his trade, wiping clean the model.

"You're free to go, just show up here before you leave and tomorrow morning," ordered Andrew, placing the airplane into the locking cabinet along with his tube of lubricant. Then, just as before, he locked it shut and stowed the key, sitting behind in his desk, pressing the button on the intercom. "Courtney, could you escort Cecil to his class, please," he spoke to the microphone, and the door to his office opened a moment later.

"Where's your next class, hun?" asked the Blaziken, bending forward. Her shirt was clearly geared to someone a bit more endowed than her, the bird having a rather flat, but feather-fluffed chest.

"Math..." grunted Cecil, his arms tightening and sinking into that chair a bit.

"Well, come along then, you don't want to miss it do you?" she asked with a smile. "You've got mister Fillibert, right?" Courtney held out her clawed hand to the Glaceon.

"Go with Miss Evans," the Arcanine said, pulling out some paperwork from Cecil's enrollment. "Unless you need a different punishment," he said over narrowed eyes. This, hopefully, would get the point through.

Almost immediately, the boy stood up and took the Blaziken's claw. He still didn't like her, but anything would be better than getting "punished" again. Each step he took was a mixture of pain and discomfort, his sore hole stretching and the slippery lubricant, now warmed from his insides dripping out and staining his undies.

"Don't worry too much about getting punished again," Courtney said as the two walked through the halls. "Mister Motzer may act tough sometimes, but he's really just big softy for you kids."

Cecil stared bitterly at the floor. Easy for her to say, he thought, she didn't have an airplane shoved up her bottom! Just thinking that sent a twinge of pain through his arse, and he bit his lip to keep from groaning out in pain. It didn't help that thinking of his punishment caused the chastity belt to stiffen up and clench down. Just a reminder that his punishment was on going until the end of the week.

"Here we are," the Blaziken said cheerily, giving a kind smile and push on the Glaceon's back. It seemed as if the class was already jotting down notes, the Golduck writing on the chalkboard. He looked over at the Blaziken escorting the boy and rolled his eyes, returning to copying down his notes on the board.

Stepping inside slowly, Cecil scanned the room for an open seat, only to find the only open one right next to that cute Growlithe girl from English! He blushed and winced, body reacting to raging hormones already as he moved to sit next down to her. Only when he sat down did he realize that his backpack was stuffed inside his locker, and all he had was the pencil in the desk.

Looking over at her paper, he glimpsed her name and said, "Hey Peppy, can I borrow a piece of paper?" under his breath, hoping it wouldn't draw the attention of the sharp-eared Golduck. She giggled, pulling out a piece of paper from her binder and handing it to the Glaceon.

"Don't fold it into an airplane and fly it down mister Fillibert's shorts," she said with a quiet laugh, wagging her fluffy little fire-dog tail. Strange how both members of that line could make the Glaceon painfully aroused, doubly so now with that tight chastity on. "Or my daddy will punish you again, I bet," she finished, turning back to her notes and copying what she missed.

Cecil flushed brightly under his fur, his face turning an almost violet color from embarrassment. The principal was her father? Sheesh, of all the girls in class to fall for, it had to be her, didn't it? He stared down at that blank sheet of paper; the sounds of scribbling pencils surrounded him, though his hand wouldn't move an inch. He couldn't get dirty thoughts about the Growlithe girl out of his head, only this time she was with her dad.

Just when he was getting aroused by the thought, a sharp pain in his groin reminded him of his punishment, the shrinking in size chastity belt locking his member under proverbial "lock and key". Unable to shift around in his seat due to that sore bottom as well, he bit his lower lip and glared at the blank piece of lined paper. It must have been some sort of conspiracy, he thought. That principal knew he had a crush on his daughter and wanted to punish him by locking away his penis--and not just that. Mister Motzer must have known that she'd be the only one with a seat open in math, all to get him to stop thinking those things about his daughter!

The Glaceon squeezed his fist tighter around that pencil, nearly snapping it in two. Well, he'll show that Arcanine, he thought to himself. He'd get that Growlithe girl to go out with him, even if the principal was going to block him at every step! He turned towards Peppy, only to face an empty seat in an empty class room.

"H-huh?" he said dumbly, looking up at the board where the Golduck was erasing. Was he really thinking for that long?

"Planning on leaving for lunch any time soon, Cecil?" asked the water-type curtly. The math teacher was a stickler for punctuality, especially when it came to food. He was a bit heavyset around the stomach, what the Glaceon heard his father call a "beer belly".

"Sorry sir!" the 'eon said, stuffing the blank piece of paper and pencil into the desk, before standing up with a wince. This time he'd head to his locker before being shuffled into his next class. And over lunch, he'd think up a plan to win Peppy's heart, for sure!