CHAPTER TWO

Riley tries to swallow but her throat refuses to cooperate, the muscles tightening like they’ve forgotten how the motion works. The room hasn’t exploded into noise the way she half expected. If anything it’s gone quieter.

Amanda looks down at Riley’s wrist and immediately sees the red glow.

Her expression changes so fast it almost feels like a physical thing moving across her face.

“Oh no,” she whispers, leaning closer. “Not you, Riley.”

Her eyes are already filling with something halfway between shock and pity.

Riley forces herself to breathe in slowly through her nose. Her voice comes out small but steady when she answers.

“It’s fine,” she whispers back.

Then she pushes her chair back and stands up.

“Miss Lennox,” she says, her voice a little louder now as the class watches. “I’m red.”

Miss Lennox rises from behind her desk with the same calm efficiency she’s shown all morning. The first thing she does is glance down at her own wrist, briefly checking the color of her watch before looking back at Riley.

She nods once.

“Alright, very good, Riley.”

There’s no alarm in her tone, just quiet approval.

“Congratulations,” she adds. “And well done for not panicking. I’m sure this is very scary.”

Several students are staring openly now while others try very hard to look at anything else.

Miss Lennox gestures toward the front of the classroom.

“But you’ll need to come up here now,” she says. “You should return your uniform.”

Her voice remains perfectly matter-of-fact.

“Animals don’t wear clothes.”

Riley walks toward the blackboard at the front of the room, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor as she moves between the rows of desks. She can feel the attention following her, that strange shift in the room where people either stare too hard or suddenly become very interested in their notebooks.

Looking up feels impossible.

If she meets someone’s eyes she’s pretty sure the whole thing will fall apart, so she just watches her own shoes moving across the tile until she reaches the front of the class.

As she passes the last row of desks, she feels a quick tug at the back of her skirt.

It’s small, almost playful, but it still makes her stop.

“Hey,” someone else snaps immediately from a nearby desk. “Don’t be an asshole.”

A boy’s voice answers with a careless shrug she can practically hear.

“What?” he says. “It’s gonna come off anyway.”

A couple of kids shift uncomfortably while another mutters something under their breath. The tension in the room tightens for a second, then settles again when Miss Lennox clears her throat softly behind the desk.

Riley keeps walking without turning around.

Her hands hang awkwardly at her sides as she reaches the blackboard, suddenly aware that she has no idea what she’s supposed to do with them now that every movement feels like it matters.

“Tyler,” Miss Lennox says sharply, her voice cutting across the room before the murmuring can grow. “Stand outside.”

She points directly at the classroom door without raising her voice.

“We don’t strip converts here,” she continues, her tone firm but controlled. “We respect them.”

Tyler groans under his breath and pushes his chair back hard enough that the legs scrape loudly across the floor. A few students glance at him as he stalks toward the aisle, his expression sour and annoyed like the whole thing is somehow inconvenient for him.

As he squeezes past Riley, he deliberately bumps his shoulder into hers.
The contact isn’t hard enough to knock her off balance, but it’s rough enough to be obvious.

“That’s detention, Tyler,” Miss Lennox calls after him immediately. “Keep moving, young man.”

Tyler mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “whatever” as he heads for the door, shoving it open and stepping into the hallway without looking back.

The door swings shut behind him with a dull click.

The room settles again, the weight of everyone’s attention returning to Riley standing at the front of the class.

Miss Lennox gives Riley a small, apologetic look from behind her desk, the kind adults use when something unpleasant still needs to happen anyway.

“Come on, dear,” she says gently. “Let’s get this part over with.”

Riley bites down on her bottom lip as she slowly turns around to face the room. The movement alone makes her painfully aware of how many people are watching, even the ones pretending they aren’t. Heat creeps into her cheeks and she can feel the flush spreading across her face.

“Can I do this somewhere else?” she asks quietly.

Miss Lennox shakes her head without hesitation.

“No, honey. Your uniform goes into the box you wrote on at the start of the semester.”

She gestures toward a stack of small storage boxes lined neatly along the wall beside the classroom door. Each one has a student’s name written across the front in thick marker, the labels made during the first week of school when everyone had been told to prepare them for “administrative use.”

Riley spots her own name among them.

Miss Lennox folds her arms loosely and adds, still calm and matter-of-fact,

“And you don’t need to worry. Animals shouldn’t be modest.”

“Would you like me to help?” Miss Lennox asks after a moment, her voice softer now that the room has gone completely quiet. “If it’s too much to do alone, I can help you.”

Riley’s fingers tighten around the hem of her skirt, twisting the fabric back and forth while she stares at the floor. She knows what she’s supposed to do. Everyone in the room knows the procedure, it’s been explained a hundred times in assemblies and orientation talks, but knowing that doesn’t make her body cooperate.

Her legs feel stuck in place, like the signal to move just isn’t getting through.

She keeps worrying the edge of the skirt between her fingers, pulling the material slightly before letting it fall back again.

The silence in the room stretches long enough that it starts to feel heavy.

Riley finally lifts her head just enough to look at Miss Lennox.

Their eyes meet for a brief second.

Then Riley nods slowly.

Miss Lennox steps closer and gently cups Riley’s cheek for a moment, her hand warm and steady.

“You’re doing fine,” she tells her quietly. “This isn’t a failure on your part.”

Then she turns away and retrieves Riley’s box from the row against the wall, setting it carefully on the desk at the front of the room where everyone can see it.

“I’ll start with your tie, blazer, and shirt.”

Her movements are calm and practiced, the kind of efficiency that comes from someone who already knows exactly what order things happen in.

Miss Lennox’s fingers work at the knot of Riley’s tie first, loosening it quickly before slipping it free from her collar. The fabric slides away from her neck and Miss Lennox folds it once before placing it neatly into the box.

Already Riley feels strange without it.

The small weight that had been hanging against her chest all morning is suddenly gone, leaving an empty feeling she hadn’t noticed while it was there.

Next comes the blazer.

Miss Lennox moves through the buttons one by one with quick, precise movements. Riley shifts her shoulders when the last one is undone, letting the jacket slide off her arms so Miss Lennox can take it. The teacher folds it carefully, smoothing the sleeves before setting it into the box beside the tie.

“Good,” she murmurs.

Then her hands move to Riley’s blouse.

The few buttons there are undone just as quickly.

“Arms up,” Miss Lennox says.

Riley obeys without speaking, lifting her arms while Miss Lennox steps behind her to pull the shirt up and away. The motion is direct and practical, more like helping someone out of a sports uniform than anything gentle or ceremonial.

There’s no attempt to pause or soften the moment.

The shirt comes free and Miss Lennox folds it the same way she did the blazer, placing it neatly into the box while the classroom remains completely silent around them.

Riley’s arms come down for a second, then one of them rises again almost immediately, moving on its own before she really thinks about it. The motion is quick and awkward, the instinctive kind of movement you make when you suddenly realize everyone can see you.

Miss Lennox notices right away.

She reaches out and gently catches Riley’s wrist before it can settle where Riley intended to hold it.

The grip isn’t rough. If anything it’s careful, the same steady control she’s shown through the whole process.

“You’re an Animal now,” Miss Lennox says quietly.

She lowers Riley’s arm back to her side.

“No need to be modest.”

The words come out the same way the rest of the instructions have all morning, calm and certain, like a line from a handbook she’s repeated enough times that it’s become second nature.
Then she reaches a hand around from behind Riley, cupping her budding breast. Warm, soft and not unpleasant.

“Class, Riley is an Animal now,” she tells them, “And because she’s an Animal, us Humans are allowed to pet her.” Her finger does slow circles around her nipple now. “Because you’re just a Meatgirl,” she says quietly into her ear, “Not a Human.”

Riley shudders.

Around them the classroom remains completely still. A few students are looking straight ahead at their desks while others watch in uncomfortable silence, unsure where their eyes are supposed to go.

Riley keeps her gaze fixed somewhere near the floorboards, breathing carefully while Miss Lennox turns back toward the box on the desk and prepares to finish returning the rest of the uniform.

Riley keeps staring at the floor, watching the faint scuff marks in the tile while the silence stretches across the room. She can feel the weight of everyone sitting behind her, the quiet awareness of people trying very hard to behave the right way.

That somehow makes it worse.

She wishes they would just look.

Seriously look.

Get it over with instead of pretending they’re suddenly fascinated by their desks or the posters on the wall. The whole room is holding its breath like this is some delicate moment that needs to be treated gently, but Riley isn’t sure she wants gentle right now.

It’s not like she’s going to see any of them again anyway.

That thought settles in her chest with a strange, heavy finality.

All these people she’s spent the year sitting beside, joking with, borrowing pencils from, whispering to during boring lessons. In a week they’ll just be stories she used to remember, faces from a classroom she isn’t part of anymore.

So what’s the point of pretending this is still normal?

Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides while Miss Lennox continues working through the rest of the uniform behind her, folding each piece carefully before placing it into the box with the others. The quiet rustle of fabric is almost the only sound in the room.

The classroom air prickles against Riley's skin, thick with the scent of chalk dust and the faint metallic tang of the radiator hissing in the corner. Her socks—once warm and snug—now cling damply to her toes, the wool fibers itching as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"Can you please remove your shoes, dear?" Miss Lennox's voice is honeyed, but there's no mistaking the expectation beneath it.

Riley's throat bobs. She reaches out blindly, her fingers finding the starched fabric of Miss Lennox's sleeve before curling into it like an anchor. The first shoe slips off with a muffled thud; the second follows, leaving her soles pressed flat against the linoleum. Cold seeps upward.

Her tights come next—the elastic waistband snapping against her belly as she peels them down.
The nylon whispers against her thighs, then pools around her ankles like melted shadow. Now it's just her and the pink cotton panties, dotted with tiny strawberries. The pattern suddenly feels absurdly childish.

Riley's thumbs dig into the soft fabric, the elastic pressing a temporary indent into her skin. The classroom hums—not with noise, but with the weight of held breaths and darting glances.
Someone's pencil rolls off a desk, clattering loud enough to make her flinch.

The strawberries stretch as she eases the waistband down. Cool air licks at the newly exposed skin of her hips. Her pulse thrums in her temples, sharp enough to blur the edges of her vision.

She trembles slightly as she reaches the last part herself. Miss Lennox steps back just enough to let Riley finish it without interference, the box sitting open on the desk beside them.

Riley hesitates for a second, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides while the silence behind her presses closer.

Then she steps out of her underwear and places it into the box.

Her hands move carefully, almost mechanically, folding the fabric once before setting it on top of the rest of the uniform. The motion feels strangely deliberate, like she’s trying to prove she can still control at least this small part of what’s happening.

The cool air in the classroom suddenly feels sharper against her skin.

She becomes intensely aware of the space behind her, the rows of desks and the quiet presence of everyone sitting there. Even without turning around she can feel the attention following her movements, some of it curious, some of it uncomfortable, all of it impossible to ignore.

Her shoulders tighten slightly.

The box closes with a soft rustle when Miss Lennox lowers the lid partway, the returned uniform now sitting neatly inside with Riley’s name written across the front in thick marker.

“Well done, dear,” Miss Lennox says, giving a small clap of her hands that sounds oddly cheerful in the quiet room. “You were very brave at the end there.” Miss Lennox’s hand finds it way between Riley’s legs now. “Oh, your wet already, naughty Meatgirl.”

A chorus of nervous laughs comes from the students as Miss Lennox strokes Riley’s moist cunt but just as quickly as she started, she stops. The humiliation of stripping and then being touched by a trusted adult causes her to tense.

Miss Lennox gestures toward the desk where the box now sits.

“You can leave your bag here,” she says. “You won’t be needing most of that anymore.”
Her eyes flick briefly toward Riley’s hands.

“Do you want a pouch to carry your phone with?” she asks. “Some Animals prefer having one so they’re not holding everything all the time.”

She opens one of the desk drawers while she waits for Riley’s answer, already reaching inside where a few small fabric pouches have been folded neatly in a stack.

The pouch has a simple strap that slips easily over Riley’s shoulder. The soft fabric settles against her hip as she adjusts it, the material light enough that she barely feels it once it rests in place.

She takes her phone and slides it inside, pressing the flap closed with a small, deliberate motion.

Miss Lennox watches for a second before speaking again.

“Any last words for your old classmates?”

Riley turns back toward the room.

For a moment she wishes she hadn’t.

Now that she’s facing them, the attention is impossible to miss. Some of the students look at her directly, others try not to but still sneak quick glances that travel down and then back up again. The looks feel different now, less like curiosity and more like quiet assessment, as if they’re already starting to see her differently.

She shifts her weight slightly, the pouch brushing against her hip as she moves.

“Oh,” Riley says after a second. “Yeah, uh… it was fun, I guess.”

A couple of kids smile weakly while others keep their eyes down.

“Not this part,” she adds quickly, the words tumbling out a little faster. “The… the… before.”

“Alright,” Miss Lennox says, clapping her hands together once to get the room’s attention again.
“Everyone say goodbye to Riley.”

The response comes out uneven, a soft, awkward chorus that spreads across the room as students mumble their farewells.

“Bye Riley.”

“See you.”

“Good luck.”

Most of the voices are quiet, uncertain, but one rises clearly above the rest.

“Bye Riley. I love you.”

Amanda’s voice wavers at the end, louder than she probably meant it to be.

Riley looks toward her instinctively.

Miss Lennox steps forward before the moment can stretch any longer and pulls Riley into one last brief hug, the gesture quick but firm. She presses a small kiss to Riley’s cheek the same way Riley’s mom had that morning.

Then her voice drops so only Riley can hear it.

“Now you need to leave, Meatgirl,” she says quietly into her ear, a hand grabbing her naked ass, “We don’t allow Animals in classrooms.”

The sudden shift in wording makes Riley flinch slightly. The friendliness is still there in Miss Lennox’s tone, but something about the phrasing lands differently now that it’s directed at her.
Miss Lennox releases her and steps back toward the desk.

By the time she turns around again her expression has already settled back into the calm, professional demeanor Riley is used to.

“Go and see the counselor,” she says, picking up her clipboard again as if they’re just moving on to the next item of the day. “They’ll explain everything that needs to happen.”

Riley pushes the classroom door open and steps out into the hallway.

The air outside feels cooler somehow, or maybe it just feels that way because the room behind her had been so quiet and full of people trying not to stare. The corridor is empty during the draw period, the school rules keeping everyone inside their homerooms until it’s finished.

Tyler is still standing against the wall a few feet from the door.

He straightens a little when he sees her and that same unpleasant grin spreads across his face again, slow and deliberate like he’s enjoying the view. His eyes drag up and down once before he leans his shoulder back against the lockers.

“Damn,” he says under his breath.

Riley stops just long enough to glare at him, the look sharp enough that he at least has the decency to shut his mouth.

Behind her the classroom door opens again.

“Tyler,” Miss Lennox calls sharply from inside. “Get back in here.”

Tyler sighs dramatically but pushes himself off the lockers and shuffles past Riley toward the door. As he passes he gives her another lingering look, but the grin fades slightly when Miss Lennox clears her throat impatiently from the doorway.

Riley watches him disappear back into the classroom before turning away.

She decides not to bother with him anymore.

He’s not going to be part of her life ever again anyway.

With that thought sitting strangely in her chest, she adjusts the strap of the small pouch on her shoulder and starts walking down the hallway toward the counselor’s office.

Riley knocks on the counselor’s door and waits.