> Sex Ed: Diamond Dog style
>  by Sirvanilla
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Art of the Bang
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	As I entered the classroom that fateful day, I must admit, I was a bit nervous. All I knew was that we were about to receive a special “lesson” from none other than the Pack Mother herself, but judging by the way my senior packmates snickered when they talked about it, we were in for something special.
I milled about for a bit looking about the low cave that served as our classroom. There were about fifteen others present, most of them young hounds fresh out of puphood. There was Bigsley, the Alpha Male of my den, and Crunk, his Beta. There were a few Gammas like me, milling about and chatting, and the three Omegas, all huddled in a corner of the room and keeping to themselves. I noticed Gertie sitting among them, and I found myself staring deep into her soft, doughy eyes. In return, she looked back at me, offering a smile and a little wave.

“Take your seats!” barked a voice from across the room. It was unmistakably the voice of our teacher, Mr. Gruff. I bolted to my seat, terrified of what would happen if I was the last one seated. That lot fell to Pogsley this time, a tubby little Omega who never was able to move all that fast. He didn’t even make it halfway to his desk before everyone else was seated. Mr. Gruff was on him in an instant, glaring down his big, black nose.
“Pogsley, late again I see!” said Mr. Gruff. Pogsley said nothing, only tuck his tail between his legs and whimpering.
“You know what happens to pups who are late!” he barked, and I cringed in sympathy. Everyone knew what was about to come.
“They get punished!” barked Mr. Gruff, standing up to his full height. He raised one paw high,and then brought it crashing down. 

	*SWAT*

Pogsley yelped and fell back, his nose stinging from th disciplinary swat. He crawled back to his desk obsequiously, and judging by the smell, urinating along the way.
“Now, you dogs are ready for a lesson?” barked Mr. Gruff. We all howled in the affirmative, not wanting to receive swats of our own.
“Good!” he barked, “Then we begin!”


	***

	
Two hours later, I was finally finished. My birdhouse wasn’t perfect by any means, but at least the joints were tight, and the edges reasonably sanded. It would have been a lot easier if we had only had some power tools, but we managed to make do with what we had in the cave. I glanced back over Gertie, wanting to show off my new creation. 
However, when I saw her birdhouse, I was forced to do a double take. The thing was hideous! Bright pink, with lacy trim, and completely covered in hearts. No bird within a hundred miles would roost in something so ostentatious! And don't even get me started on the construction. I mean, seriously, was she even awake during Trigonometry? And you call that a dovetail? More like and finger joint if you ask me!

She was obviously unhappy with her finished product, and was looking about miserably. I looked down at my own birdhouse, and I got and idea. Using the skills I had developed during endless hours of throwing rocks at walls due to extreme boredom, I chucked my birdhouse across the room and onto her desk, neatly knocking hers to ground. The resulting crash alerted Mr. Gruff, who was staring at his newspaper and trying to come up with a seven letter word for a woodworking joint.

“Who made the noise!?” he barked his eyes scanning across the room. I said nothing, but he came to me anyway.
“No birdhouse?!” he said, “How do you expect to better yourself through learning if you don’t apply yourself to the task at hand?!?!”
The disciplinary swat wasn’t as bad as you might think. Actually, it was quite a bit worse. But the look of gratitude I got from Gertie made it all worth it.

Finally, after Mr. Gruff had examined and graded all the birdhouses, he stood to address the class once again.
“It is now time for main lesson!” he barked. “Please give a warm welcome to our beloved Den Mother!”
He stood aside, and to the sound of our rapturous howls, in walked the most important dog in the den, our wonderful Den Mother!
She is so hard to describe in meaningful words. Just imagine your own mother, and everything about her that makes her beautiful and loving. Her face, her voice, her smell, everything about her makes you feel warm and squishy inside.
“Oh great Den Mother,” I said,”You honor us with your presence! What may we do to make your visit…”

But then I was rudely interrupted mid-soliloquy

	“Today, we teach you to bang!” 
	Her voice was even louder than Mr. Gruff’s resonating through the walls and out the door.
“You do it like this!” she said, and then she and Mr. Gruff proceeded to bang. 

Like, a lot.

Seriously, it just kind of went on forever.

Finally, they stopped. The Den Mother excused Mr. Gruff, and then faced the rest of the class.
	“Well?” she said, “What are you waiting for?!”

And so we banged a lot as well.

Actually, we banged pretty much for the rest of the day, with a brief break around noon for cookies and lemonade. I think I mostly just banged with Gertie, but I kind of lost track after a while.

Finally, after a full day of banging, we all dropped to the ground, completely exhausted.
“Good job!” said the Den Mother, “You all get A’s. Now, get back to work!”


***

“And that is why we need ponies to dig for gems, so we have more time to bang!” I finished my story proudly, and waited for a response. The white unicorn we had captured merely stared at me, an odd look on her face, before muttering a response.
“I think I need and adult…”