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please look at this graffiti my sister saw in paris

The Hazening

(This is a tf story I wrote as a commission on FA. Figured I’d post it here for you guys to enjoy, too.)

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“Look, man, I seriously stuck my neck out to even get you this chance at joining the frat in the first place. You’ve seen what other frats do for hazing. You should thank me!”

Chris looked dubiously at the jockstrap and tube socks. His rich black hair was cut back into a fade on the sides to expose the glasses that sat firmly on his nose. “Look, Jack, I know you want to be able to hang out more, but this—”

“Is easy compared to what I had to deal with,” Jack said seriously. His blond stubble and blocky face had only become more prominent and masculine over the last year since he joined the frat. “Nu Phi Lambda’s seriously cool, man. They accept anyone, so long as they pass the test. You wear it to the party, hang with some of the guys for a while, meet the pres, and there you go!”

“And the reason they’re being so easy on me is because…?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Because I asked them to. That, and I may have said this was the most embarrassing thing you’ll ever have to endure.”

“So, you lied for me?”

“You’re saying you won’t be uncomfortable wearing just that underneath your clothes?”

“… Point.”

Jack smirked. “See? I’ve still got those mad debate skills.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Sure, you do.”

“Oh, and one more thing. They’re gonna be checking to make sure you’re actually wearing it, so be ready for some bros to give you a wedgie.” He chuckled. “Well, to try, anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s hazing, man. What’d you expect?”

“Something that isn’t so immature?”

Jack chuckled. “I’ll see you at the party, ‘little bro.’ Don’t be late,” he sang as he left the room.

Chris groaned as he looked at the two articles of clothing. “The things I do for friendship,” he muttered under his breath.

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Well, Jack hadn’t been wrong. The discomfort was definitely there. Every step Chris took brushed the fabric of his jeans against parts of his body that weren’t used to such exposure, and the straps of the strap would rub occasionally against his skin. He was confident he’d likely develop a rash by the end of the night. Or at the very least, chafe marks. He would have worn boxers over the gear to mitigate the situation, were it not for the warning Jack gave.

Chris had only experienced a wedgie once before, when he was swimming in an old childhood friend’s pool. The yelp he’d given when he was lifted bodily in the water had echoed through the neighborhood, and he still winced whenever he thought back on the old memory. The tube socks he wore now encompassed his feet in a thick cocoon that pressed slightly against the walls of his shoes and sent a strange tingling sensation up the soles of his feet with every step. It wasn’t like he was being tickled, but it was certainly distracting.

“Chris!” Jack grinned as he shouldered through the crowd of upperclassmen to reach his friend. “Glad you made it, bro!” The man had become the embodiment of the frat bro stereotype from the backwards snapback to the tight tank and shorts marked with the frat’s logo. Tanned and swollen arms nearly consumed the would-be-pledge in a bear hug that would break a lesser man. This was soon followed by a loud snap.

Chris stiffened like a board as his eyes widened and he gaped disbelievingly at his friend.

“Just checking.” Jack grinned. “Good on you for not bringing boxers.”

“Jack….”

“Oh, calm down, man. One night of immature revelry won’t kill you.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Come on. Pres is waiting.”

The party had yet to get fully underway, so it was easy to weave or shoulder through people without consequence. Tall thick border hedges provided all the privacy the event would need, if not noise protection. As for what antics might come that night as a result of said privacy…. Chris didn’t want to think about it. The inside of the frat house was more like a mansion than a house, with rich dark wood floors and a brighter reddish paneling for the walls. Jack guided him to the left, where a pair of doors opened into a broad study lined with ornate bookshelves, complete with the moveable ladder. It was the picture of a Victorian manor study. And there, behind the desk, stood the tallest, broadest, and most imposing man Chris had ever laid eyes on.

“Yo, Kyle! I brought him,” Jack announced. His face split into a broad grin. “Told you I’d get him here.”

Kyle was a burly man with naturally wavy brown hair and thick eyebrows. His arms were nearly twice the size of Jack’s, and his green eyes were highlighted with a golden outline. Darker hairs stood out on the backs of his hands and along his arms before slipping under the tight sleeves of his polo. When the behemoth leaned onto the desk, Chris had the impression of staring down a gorilla, rather than a man.

“So, this is the one you told me about, huh?” His voice was deep and gruff with just a hint of a growl that carried in the undertow.

A heavy smack to the back sent Chris catapulting onto the desk. He braced for all he was worth to avoid accidentally knocking heads with the man that presumably would be the one to decide whether he was worthy of joining the organization in the first place.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Kyle continued bluntly.

Jack folded his arms. “Neither did I when I pledged. Look at me now.”

Kyle didn’t bother looking at Jack. His focus was on the man who couldn’t hold a gaze for a few seconds before looking away. “You wearing your gear?”

“If you mean the jockstrap and socks, yes.” Chris’ cheeks felt like they were on fire as his voice hushed. “Are you guys seriously going to give me wedgies?”

Kyle rose to his full height and folded his vascular arms. “Part of the deal. You could say that strap is more for protection than it is a test. Do right by it and you’ll fit in, no problem.” He strode around the table and extended a hand. “It’s tradition for the leader to welcome guests, even if they don’t pass snuff.”

Chris’ whole hand was swallowed in the fist as Kyle shook with gentle controlled movements. The man probably could have broken his arm, if he’d been so inclined. A few second later, the familiar snap of spandex rang through the room. Chris yelped and jumped briefly. Kyle smiled. “Watch yourself tonight, pledge. Part of the fun is facing a challenge.”

Chris glared at the man. “And here I thought I was actually going to like you.”

Kyle huffed a chuckle. “You still might by the end of the night. Go on. Have fun. This party’s meant for more than just pranking. I want to see just how well you rush. Good luck.”

When the door clicked shut behind them, Jack was positively ecstatic. He thumped Chris excitedly on the back. “Dude! He totally likes you!”

When Chris was certain his eyes weren’t about to be knocked out of his skull from the sheer force of the blows, he spoke acerbically. “That’s not the impression I got.”

Jack was completely undaunted and pulled his friend against his side. “Trust me, bro. I know these things. You’re in. You’re totally in.” He whooped in delight. “I can’t wait for tonight!”

“Yes. I can hardly contain myself. Woohoo….”

Jack chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough, little bro. You’ll see.”

“Is this going to be your thing now?”

Jack smirked. “Maybe.”

Chris groaned. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive this.”

“Courage, my friend. Courage. The night is still young, and there are many vain and foolish delights to tempt and tantalize.” He grinned. “I’ll make a bro out of you yet.”

Chris barked a laugh. “You can try.”

Jack smirked. “Wait and see, bro. Wait and see.”

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The party went into full swing as soon as the sun began to set. Torches were lit, burgers were served, and the beer flowed like mead in a Viking feast hall. Drunken revelry filled the air with hoots, growls, and howls as various antics were performed and thrust on would-be-pledges. Keg stands, beer pong, the works.

And all the while, Chris was on guard, ever alert for groping hands and would-be-attackers. But these “bros” were more cunning than Chris had given credit for. When Jack had ceased to serve as a proper distraction, they found other means to “test” him. The card tables were notorious, especially when they got into a round of strip poker.

Somehow, he always found himself getting stripped. And then would come the familiar smack of the waistband. By the time he left those tables, his waist felt like it was burning. The straps had been pulled and snapped so much by now, he was shocked they hadn’t lost their stretch.

He stumbled toward the drink table. The tingling had intensified in his feet, and he was tired of all the antics. But he had promised Jack he’d stay, and he wasn’t about to break his word, even if the guys were being lunkheaded jerks.

“Rough night?” the keep asked as he filled another cup.

“You could say that.” Chris groaned and leaned against the makeshift counter where the drinks were mixed, then served in the punch bowl to the side or in individual orders for the older frat members.

“Sounds like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Chris sighed. “I just don’t really feel like I belong here, you know?”

“Do you want to belong?”

“I want to be with my friend. Does that count?”

The keep shrugged again. “It’s a start.” He passed a cup Chris’ way. “In my experience, if you want to feel like fitting in, and you’re having trouble, it might not hurt to get a little help in loosening up. And no, I’m not talking drugs. We don’t do those here. Ever. Anyone caught with those gets immediate disbarment.”

“And what do you recommend?” Chris sipped his drink and sighed. The flavor was surprisingly sweet, with a warmth that seemed to spread through his chest, then back into his throat again as the drink went down.

“A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.” He shrugged. “Or you could work off some of that aggression in the other places. There’s wrestling and arm wrestling, you know. Even a sumo mat and one of those stick pit things. You know, the game where you knock someone off while you straddle a beam? Try some of them out. Let loose. Live a little. And if you’re really that upset over something people are doing to you, why not pay them back? Fair’s fair, in my opinion.”

“I still don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know to do. Take a risk. Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I get in a fight.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Chris drained his cup and took the second that was proffered. “Have you seen their size?”

“I have. Have you seen yours?” He shook his head. “You think too little of yourself. Think little and you’ll be little. So stop thinking and just be for a while.”

“Just be? That simple?”

“Simple’s usually the best.” The keep offered a third cup. “A few basic ingredients, and you’ve got a kickass drink. Why not let it be the same for a man? Isn’t that one of the sayings people use, the clothes make the man?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, let your clothes do the talking for a while. It’s not like it’ll kill you to try something different for a night.”

The warmth had spread through Chris’ whole body by this point, and a hint of a smile pulled at his face, despite his attempts to quash it. “Just for a night, huh?”

“Just for a night. Just to try,” the keep offered again. “Who knows? You might actually like it.”

Chris chuckled. “Fat chance.”

“Fat is easily trimmed with exertion.” The keep smiled as he took the cup back. “Why don’t you go burn some of it off, until that chance comes along, hmm?”

Chris sighed. “I suppose I should try.” He rolled his eyes and adjusted his crotch as he rose back to his feet. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Any time, stranger. Feel free to come back if you need. I’ve got plenty to choose from, and good advice to offer. It’ll put some hair on that chest of yours.”

Chris chuckled ruefully. “Can it put muscle on, too?”

The barkeep smiled knowingly. “That’s up to you and just how much you decide to follow those clothes of yours.”

“Sure, it is.” Chris’ cheeks flushed as he walked away from the bar. His legs tensed as he scratched his glutes. But he did feel a little better. “Maybe just … one game of sumo.”

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Chris leaned heavily into his steps as he finally emerged from the cocoon of padding that had been his badge of honor for the last ten rounds and replaced his shoes. His belly burned. His blood surged. And as for his rear, well … he was getting used to all the “attention.” If they didn’t snap his waistband, they smacked him, instead.

“Bro, that was awesome!” one such frat member raved. “You toppled Titan! You toppled the %&$*ing Titan!”

Chris smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“That’s my bro!” Jack hooted as he pointed from across the way and beat a meaty fist against his chest in salute.

“To the hero of the ring!”

A cup was shoved in Chris’ face, and he took it. “Uh, … thanks?”

“Go on, bro, drink up! You earned it!”

It … was hot in that costume. And he was feeling thirsty. He took a hesitant sip. It wasn’t the sweet flavor he’d had at the bar, but it wasn’t bad. There was a hint of orange in the brew that offset the bitter flavor from the hops. The flush deepened, and a goofy smile pulled at his lips. He hardly even felt the snap this time around.

He laughed, a curious hiccupping mixture between his usual higher register and a lower bass. A heavy thump on the back nearly sent him tottering. Then came the deathgrip on his waistband, followed by the largest snap to date.

And that wasn’t the only thing to snap.

Chris came to, thrashing in some much larger arms. The poor soul that had unleashed that rage was being raised to his feet. Instead of frustration, though, there were smiles.

“Calm down.”

Chris immediately went limp at the command. He knew that voice, and he knew those arms. Kyle had broken up the fight. Chris could already feel his sides throbbing.

“Get them some ice to dull the pain.”

The others scattered, and soon both men were nursing ice packs. Jack lumbered to the pair and frowned. “You all right, bro?”

“He’s fine. Just a little too eager, I think,” Kyle rumbled.

Chris’ head felt strangely muted as he looked over the frat president and his friend. It was like someone had worn out the spark plugs up there, and now he just … existed. He grunted as he nursed the ice pack. “M’fine, bro. Really.” Kyle said he was fine, so he was fine.

Jack grinned. “Did you just call me bro?”

One of the sparkplugs finally managed to fire properly. “Don’t get used to it.”

Kyle grunted. “If you want to fight next time, do it in the ring.” His thick brow furrowed like thunderclouds over his eyes. “And remember you’re rushing the frat. That means letting the rest of the guys have their fun.” He deliberately grabbed the waistband and snapped it. “Get used to it.” He snapped it again. “Let it happen.” Once more. “Embrace it.” He yanked especially hard, then leaned next to Chris’ ear after the last snap beat against the pledge’s skin. “You might just be rewarded.” He chortled, though it sounded more like a growl. “Hell, you might actually come to enjoy it.”

Each successive snap acted like a depth charge to Chris’ brain. His knuckles felt sore, probably from the blows that were exchanged in the fight. His hands ached, as did his feet. His head tingled as invisible fingers pricked and massaged at his scalp and deep in his conscious, scouring expertly for those few spark plugs that were still working. His mouth gaped as he stared into those eyes. The rough handling had forced him into a semi-stoop. “Uhh….”

“Got it?”

Another snap. The voice that answered sounded strangely distorted. “Got it….”

“Good.”

Chris blinked at Kyle. The president looked … bigger, somehow. His sleeves strained against his arms to the point of almost breaking, and the hair along his arms had thickened. “You look … funny.”

Kyle smirked. “So do you. Now get back out there. I want to see you make a real party animal of yourself.”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle. “Think I already have.”

“Give it time, Chris. Give it time.”

A heavy thump on the back almost sent him sprawling. Chris nodded and grunted as he adjusted the pouch on the jock strap. The thing was starting to feel a little tight.

“Come on, bro.” Jack grinned as he laid a meaty arm around Chris’ shoulders. This time, the weight didn’t feel so overwhelming. It felt … comfortable. “Let me introduce you to the world of beer pong.”

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“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

The chant rang through the air as Chris guzzled a whole pint of beer in one go. He slammed the glass onto the table, followed by laying his elbow into the platform as he awaited his opponent. He smirked at his old friend. “The student has become the master.”

Jack finished guzzling his beer and smacked his own glass onto the table. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, caveman.”

Chris grinned. “Me chug. Me drink good. Me fight good. Now, me wrestle good.” He shuddered as the tingling spread from feet and crotch through his body and into his head. A low rumble of pleasure surged as he hunched forward. His arm twitched in anticipation. His knuckles stood taut against the skin. His nose burned red from the alcohol that now raged through his bloodstream.

A rally of hoots roared in Chris’ ears as heat radiated pushed against them from within. It felt almost as though his own heartbeat were forcing the members to expand as the cool night air breezed over them. Seconds later, his hand clasped his friend’s in a grip of iron. Both furrowed their brows.

His arm burned. His chest strained. His lats and traps bunched and heaved as he engaged his core, pectorals, biceps, and triceps. A low growl escaped Chris’ lips as he bared his teeth and strained against the force of his friend’s arm. He wanted to win. He needed to win, to dominate. It just … felt right. The same lust burned in Jack’s eyes as the two locked in combat. He wanted to say something snappy, but … he just couldn’t think. It was like his brain was putting all the effort into the fight, too. He spread his legs wide on his stool.

Finally, two rips tore through the night as the table resounded with the defeat of a competitor.

“Oh, snap!” someone shouted.

Chris gaped disbelievingly at the table. His arm was throbbing, but it held Jack’s pinned to the table, like a wrestler waiting for the final count. Neither seemed to notice or care how the sleeves of their shirts had torn or how prominent their pectorals had become as the collars strained against their torsos. They heaved and finally grinned at one another.

“The winner is Chris!”

The crowd cheered, then broke out in a rousing shout. But Chris wasn’t greeted with the lauding of his name. Instead, the frat bros adopted the phrase that had defined their shock at the upset. “Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!”

Jack leaned next to his friend as they rose to greet the crowd. He scratched a pec idly. “Congrats, bro. I think you just won your nickname.” He seized his friend’s wrist and pulled his arm into the air. The chanting increased in volume as Chris stared dazedly into the crowd.

“I … I don’t know what to—” SNAP! The strap smacked against him. He hardly felt it. It was as though the force transferred from his waist, through his torso, into his chest, and finally struck home at his Adam’s apple. It throbbed and surged forward as his voice dropped like a stone. “—Say.” The invisible hands were at work again, this time on his jaw and face. His nose didn’t feel so much stuffed as swollen. His forehead thickened into a more prominent slope as his brow was slowly massaged and his eyes sunken into the hollows that were rapidly forming over them.

Jack grunted as he released his friend’s arm and thumped his own chest with a thick, hairy hand. “Don’t say. Do.”

Chris saw the hand reaching out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was coming. But he couldn’t stop it. No, he didn’t want to stop it. The band snapped again. His chest swelled with the sudden intake of breath. His head spun. And before he knew it, his mouth was already open, his throat resonating with a deep primal roar as he beat his chest with his fists. A gnarled carpet of thick hair sprouted on the backs of his hands and surged up the back of his arms.

The hooting and cheers intensified. The will of the many pounded against the one. They wanted him. They needed him. And who was he to deny them? His legs thumped heavily over the podium as he approached the stairs. The socks clung more tightly as the walls of his shoes strained and finally detonated with twin POPs that were drowned out by the siren call of the frat. Broad swelling feet bulged in their cocoons as he plodded heedlessly down the stairs.

Rough hands seized him, brushed his swelling muscle, his growing hair. Snap after snap resounded in his ears as thick powerful legs burst from the sheath of their respective pant legs, or what remained of them. They’d become more akin to a pair of shorts. Now they draped like a loin cloth, leaving just the waist band and a clear view of a swollen pouch that continued to grow and strain with his body mass. And still the name echoed. Still the call rebounded.

Who was he to deny them?

And with the acceptance of that name, that brutish call, something unlocked. Chris let go of his worries and cares. He let go of thoughts for the future. He was almost naked. There was no shame. With every snap, he grew. With every hoot and cheer, the candle of conscious thought guttered. Thick hairs sprouted over a torso that was rapidly becoming more rigid and carved. Each snap of his waistband another blow of the chisel. Thick hairs formed a treasure trail from his navel while his shirt rode up his torso.

Even crouched, his head stood above the rest now. He felt good. He felt better than good. He raised both arms and flexed. The other sleeve tore open as the mounds pumped into rigid peaks. Wisps of hair sprouted from under the collar. Chris didn’t even have to think. He was beyond thinking. He roared as he tore his shirt apart like so much paper. The rip of the fabric filled his chest with a primal growl of satisfaction that was followed by the snap of the final strands giving out. He shucked himself of the garment and threw it into the crowd, exposing the carpet of hair that had grown over his pecs and chest and curved downward in a V, then spread over his abs.

The hoots grew louder. The cheers devolved into a motley mob as the men that were no longer men surged and crashed against the rising cliffside that was Chris. The candle flame could hardly survive under the onslaught, and finally was snuffed by the winds of the frat. The light died. The ember burnt out, and the smoke trailed out his lips in the last intelligent phrase of the night. “Snap like. Give Snap more. Give Snap ALL!”

The rest of the night passed with victory after victory for the new alpha. Chris had accepted the role his clothes had given him, and he reveled in it. He outchugged, outwrestled, and outmatched every opponent. He hooted and grunted. He shoved and he surged. And most importantly, he continued to grow and dominate as his broad shoulders and deformed head stood high above the rest of the tribe. Yet, despite his virility, despite his dominance, despite every surge of growth and victory he gained, the strap and socks clung to him.

Snap didn’t mind. Snap didn’t care. The night was theirs.

The fire that had replaced the candle was his.

And they would feed it or face his wrath.

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Chris groaned as he finally came to. The room was blurry. His mouth felt like something had died in it and dried into mummy powder. And his head. He groaned again as the daylight struck sledgehammer blows on a spike that drove directly through his skull and into his brain.

“It lives!” Jack’s voice was unmistakable. It also exacerbated the headache.

Chris moaned and turned over on the bed. “Just let me die already,” he croaked.

“No can do, bro.” Jack grinned as he walked into his friend’s line of sight. “Pres wants to see you stat.” He sat on the bed and proffered a frosty glass of water and a handful of ibuprofen. “You’re gonna need these. Drink it all and get dressed.” He motioned to a set of sweats and a shirt with the frat’s logo on the left pectoral hanging from a wardrobe door. A fresh pair of tube socks and a large jock strap were draped over the shirt.

Chris cursed and took the proffered medicine.

“Drink it all, bro. Trust me, the water helps.”

When Chris finally mustered enough will to move, he swung heavy legs out from under the covers. The filthy tube socks pooled at his feet, and he easily slid out of them. The jock strap had completely lost all sense of elasticity. He had to hold it in place.

“Bro, do you mind?” Chris asked.

“Dude, it’s just us. Not like I haven’t seen the rest of it.” Jack chuckled. “You were pretty wild last night.”

“What?” Chris swore as the strap dropped to join its companions on the floor.

“Dude, just get dressed.” Jack shook his head. “I won’t look,” he promised. “There. Happy now?”

Reasonably mollified, Chris strode to the doors and pulled on the gear. The jock strap fit snugly over his body, and the pouch held comfortably while still showing off his heft. He scratched it instinctively as he reached for the next article of clothing.

“Boxers and briefs are in the drawers, if you want them,” Jack informed.

Chris’ head whipped back, but his friend was staring at the door to the room, instead. The dirty socks and strap were clung in one of his meaty hands. “No peaking,” he insisted.

“Bro, chill. It’s not like you’ve got anything to be ashamed of, anyway.”

A smirk pulled at Chris’ lips as he smacked a hand against his bicep as his voice dropped into a husky pantomime of Jack’s bass. “People pay to look at this bod, bro.” The smirk passed and he swayed on his feet. Why … why had he said that? That wasn’t—he didn’t—

“Easy, bro.” Jack was there in an instant. Thick hands rubbed Chris’ shoulders. “Relax. Kyle will explain.”

“I … I feel—This is wrong.” Chris’ hands ran over well-defined abs. Hairs brushed gently, soothingly over them. His thick, broad hands. “What … what did you do to me, bro? I … I feel—” He swore again. “My head. Why … why can’t I think straight?”

“I told you, bro. It’s the hangover. Just get dressed, all right? Kyle’ll get you straightened out. I promise.”

“My voice!”

“Is fine,” Jack assured. He raised the coat hangar and shoved the clothes against Chris’ chest. “Come on, bro. Get dressed. Kyle’s waiting. And you don’t want to keep the pres. waiting.”

Chris’ eyes clouded briefly, and he grunted. “I … don’t….” The sweats and shirt clung in all the right places to show off his newly enhanced physique. When he turned to face Jack, the two were eye-to-eye. Jack was wearing sneakers. Chris wasn’t.

“Come on, little bro. We don’t have all day.”

The socks were like old friends, and the tug of the fabric over his feet made Chris shudder in pleasure. The two friends thumped down the halls in relative silence. Those who saw them nodded gravely or otherwise communicated their acknowledgement in body language, rather than the spoken word.

Instead of the trekking to the study, Jack led his friend down the halls toward the basement, where Kyle towered with his usual intimidating stature. His arms were folded, his broad face turned in a flat line as he stared at the pair.

“Here he is, Sir,” Jack said softly as he bowed his head.

Kyle extended a hand. Jack handed over the discarded strap and socks wordlessly.

Then kyle turned to a door his body had obscured. “Come with me, Chris.”

It wasn’t a request, and even if it was, Chris felt instinctively that he couldn’t disobey. A flash of memory passed. Those thick arms holding him, pulling him back. They could easily do so again.

Their steps were muted by the carpet as they strode into a room walled off by rope on either side. Placards were mounted to the wall, at first with torn underwear and the remnants of socks. Then, as they progressed, the tatters grew less, though the stretching increased. Briefs, boxers, jockstraps, tube socks. Larger and larger.

“Our frat is very old, Chris,” Kyle began. The silence of the room made his voice feel heavier than it ever had before. “And we have a sort of tradition that passes with it.”

Chris’ body tingled, and he adjusted the pouch on his jock as it tightened. His clothes felt snugger than they had a moment ago. “What sort of tradition?” he asked. “And for that matter, what the hell is going on? Why do I look like this? Why do I sound like this? What happened last night?”

“Listen.” The command was calm, but the order snapped like a gag over Chris’ mouth. “I’m heading into my senior year here at the university. That means I have two semesters to pick a replacement and train him up to take my place in the frat.” He motioned with his free hand. “Look around you. Tell me what you see.”

“A bunch of old clothes.” Chris cleared his throat. The tingle had spread there now, too. The deeper pitch didn’t feel so forced anymore.

“These belonged to every president of the frat from its founding to now. Each of us wore the gear. Each of us grew, just like the other pledges. You wanna know what makes these ones special?”

“Wait, you mean everyone who rushes the frat turns into … this?” Chris motioned to himself.

“More or less.” Kyle smirked. “Usually less.” He approached a placard that bore his name in neat bold typeface over a sheet of brass. “This one’s mine.” He grinned proudly as he looked on a pair of boxers that had burst at the crotch and rent down the legs. “Tore those suckers wide open. But you.” He turned and smacked Chris on the back. “You took the cake, Snap.”

Chris flushed as his pectorals perked and the drooping fabric of the sweats started to hug his thighs and calves. “Snap?”

“Your new nickname.” Kyle smiled as he presented the strap. “You stretched these things to their limit and nearly burst the pouch. It’s a miracle the strap didn’t break when the others tried to snap it. That’s a new record for this material.” He pushed his finger against the fabric for emphasis. The silhouette of the finger was clearly visible.

“I … wore that?”

“It’s not like it looked this way when you started.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Point being, Snap, you’re our new MVP. And more importantly, you’re going to be the frat’s new alpha.” He strode to a blank placard that lay on a plinth, then took a hammer and nails that had been laid aside to properly display the garments. “You’re my successor, little bro.” He smirked and hung the placard on the wall next to his. A set of ropes already waited for him to cordon off the zone, and a quick flick of a switch beamed the spotlight over the wood and metal, where Chris’ name flashed. “The old you? That’s gone. And honestly, good riddance. Trust me, this is way better.”

“But … but my major, my life. What am I supposed to say to my friends?”

“What did Jack say?”

“He called it a second growth spurt….”

“So, go with that. There. That settles it.” Kyle thumped his hand heavily on Chris’ back. This time, Chris didn’t budge.

“But … but I liked being smart.”

“You still are, Chris. Just not in the same ways.” Kyle wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulders as they broadened. “Your interests might be a little different now, but you still have the same focus and drive. And more importantly, you have want. Which means you push yourself to get your desires and lead others to follow. If you want order, you can impose it. If you want to just … let go and de-stress for a while, that works, too. You want to work out and bulk up? No problem.” He grinned. “You’re going to make a great president, Chris. But I have to teach you how to fit the part. Your body’s helping with some of the driving, but now it’s time to take the wheel.” He chuckled. “Think of me as your coach. And practice is in session.”

Chris panted as he hunched forward and his eyes glazed over. “Bro….”

“That’s right, Chris. That’s right. We’ll make a right frat bro of you in no time.” He chuckled as his brow protruded and his muscles strained. “You’ll love being Snap. Trust me.” He chuckled again as his knuckles became more prominent and the shelf over his eyes formed into a unibrow. “And you can call me Grog.”

Took a drink of a mikes harder and got flashbacks from school I deadass feel like I should be in a frat basement somewhere what’s wrong with me

is this seat taken

a/n: oof i’ll make a part 2 later... sorry if i haven’t been updating as much, i’ve been reading a series of books and i’m trying to get through them as fast as possible... also having a big writers/imagination block right now,,, fOcK

pairing: frat!fuckboy!tom x reader

warnings: sort of sexual, tom is a perv

masterlist                     prompt list

pt.1 | pt.2

You entered the massive classroom, earbuds drowning out the chattering of the other students. You found a table for yourself and placed your bag on the seat beside you. Already knowing the assignment, you traveled over to the supply table, grabbing your desired colors of acrylic paints, a paintbrush, and a piece of acrylic paper. Placing them onto your table, you moved to the sink, filling a tin with water to clean your brush. 

You thoroughly enjoyed art. It was your best subject and you’d taken interest in it ever since you were 5, although your works then were meager. 

With your earbuds still in, you began to start your painting of the landscape of a frozen lake and the sun setting. You began with a light base of white paint before starting with the light blue to represent the lake. 

You’d been calmly stroking your canvas when the door burst open and a group of fraternity boys piled in. They were gossiping loudly, loud enough for you to hear even through your blasting music. The frat leader, Tom Holland, stood at the front, winking and biting his lips as girls looked at him. The only reason they took art was because they believed it was an easy A, though you were quite surprised that they even came to class.

Rolling your eyes, you turned the volume of your music even higher in attempt to block out their hoots. To your dismay, they decided to sit at your table. Most sat across of you, while some followed Tom. 

You felt a a light tapping on your shoulder, and irritably, you pulled out your earbud, “Can I help you?”

“This seat taken?” The boy looked at you, one hand tucked into his pocket as he leaned against the table.

Looking at him with disbelief, you asked, “Yeah, it is actually.”

“Really? I don’t see anybody sitting here or coming to claim it,” he looked around the classroom.

“As you can see, my bag is actually reserving that seat, so I’m sure you can sit somewhere else. This room is quite big, you’ll find a seat,” you turned away from him and plugged your ears with the loose earbuds, ending the conversation.

The brunette and his posy laughed, ignoring your what you had just said. He moved your bag off the seat, sat down, and let the bag rest in his lap instead.

You obviously noticed this and rolled your eyes. You told yourself to ignore it, knowing that he would move away if you paid him no mind. You continued your painting, giving it your full attention to the point of standing up and tucking the chair away.

Your ass was now jutting out, as you were bent over, and you noticed Tom had finally moved. Where to, you didn’t know, until you felt someone pressing against you from behind. They were attempting to walk past you, but seemed to be adding lots of pressure against you. This person was taking their sweet time and you weren’t taking any of it.

You straightened, pulling out your earbuds and turning to see Tom behind you, “Excuse you,” you glared.

“Yes, darling?” Him and his friends were grinning and sniggering beside you.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He blinked at you innocently.

“What you were just doing. That was highly inappropriate,” you huffed angrily.

“I wasn’t doing anything. I was just trying to get past you.”

“You could’ve gone another way. If you couldn’t tell, I was concentrating,” you snapped.

HIs friends started chuckling, mocking you. You shot them a sharp glare, shutting them all up. Luckily, before Tom began talking, the bell rang. You let out a sigh of relief when the frat boys started leaving. Tom, on the other hand, stayed.

“What are you still here for?” You began cleaning up the surface, not in any rush.

“Here,” he handed you a paper, “party on Friday. Call me if you have any questions,” he kissed the back of your hand, winking at you before escorting himself out.

You blushed and felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. The back of your hand was tingling where he had kissed you. You looked at the paper and the address and phone number scrawled on it. You started giggling. Hiding it in your fist, you stopped the fit of laughter coming out of your mouth and face-palmed, ashamed you felt the way you did.

the worst of you

a/n: sorry for not updating for a while, i’ve been more tired than ever before... this song sparked this idea for a fic so hopefully it’s good and you enjoy it... lots of love xx

pairing: frat!fuckboy!tom x reader

warnings: toxic/unhealthy relationship, angst

masterlist                     prompt list

You promise it's different You swear that you listened I don't mind if you didn't 'Cause I just love the sound of your voice You role-play the good guy, lemon juice your white lies But I see 'em in the sunrise

“This is all different, babe. I swear I’ve been listening to you,” Tom placed his hands on your arms.

You couldn’t care if he didn’t listen, you just loved hearing the sound of his voice. You knew he was a complete fake, roleplaying the good guy. He tried to cover up his white lies but they always shone through either way.

You got me right in the palm of your hand and you know it Oh, it's what you do So let me drown, I'll be there with the band Hit the sea bed, all I'd see is you

You were whipped and the both of you knew it. You were vulnerable and easily manipulated when it came to Tom. He knew he had power over you, so he abused the power. 

It’s what he does, you sighed to yourself, but he’s all that I can think about.

So give me your worst excuses, any reason to stay Give me your lips that taste of her, I'd kiss them again I'd rather you walk all over me than walk away Give me the worst of you 'Cause I want you anyway So take me to every party and just talk to your friends Why don't you let me down, I'll let you do it again Go on and walk all over me, just don't walk away Give me the worst of you 'Cause I want you anyway

Whenever he came back late, you already knew where he had been, though you did care about his feeble excuses. You wanted to hear all of his excuses. They were reasons to stay.

You pulled him towards you, placing your lips on his. You could taste another girl on them mixed with alcohol. You didn’t mind it, as long as you could kiss him you’d be fine. You’d let him walk all over you instead of walk away and leave you.

You wanted him, all of him. Even if he gave you the worst of him, you’d still take him.

-

One night, you asked him to bring you to a party with him. He was hesitant about it. Like always, he tried to find excuses to keep you from going. 

“I won’t be a burden, promise,” you smiled softly.

He sighed, giving in. He brought you to the frat house, which was overflowing with people. He led you to the emptiest couch he could find and left. 

You could see Tom laughing with his friends. You smiled to yourself, happy to see that Tom was happy. Girls began to pile on your boyfriend, but you promised you wouldn’t bother him. Besides, he was still yours. You were the one he came back to almost every night.

We make up, but I know we'll fistfight Through iPhones, my left hook a no-show 'Cause I'll just keep letting you win But baby, the truth is I make your excuses You let me down and I'm used to it

Fights weren’t as frequent in your relationship, seeing as you gave Tom all the freedom in the world, but when you did fight, you’d have make up sex. That wasn’t the end of the fight, though. He would text you angry messages, putting you down. You never fought back. You let him win. 

Your friends and family asked why you stayed with Tom. They could see into the cracks of your relationship. You’d always make excuses to defend the brunette.

Tom, on the other hand, hadn’t even told his family about you. You were put down by it but you didn’t force it upon him. You were used to the disappointment.

Another night, another dotted line I sign my heart away to you Some call it foolish, guess I'll call it art

You signed your heart to Tom. You knew it was a one-sided relationship, but you’d rather gain a relationship with him than feel the pain of losing him. It was like selling yourself to the devil: you got what you want in the short-term but costs you in the long-term.

Many people called you foolish for staying in the toxic relationship but you liked to call it art. Moreover, when one looks at art, they might have an immediate emotional attachment to it, like you with Tom. You were emotionally attached to the British brunette.

“Just give me the worst of you because I’ll want you anyway.”

let them flow

❧ synopsis: after the collapsing of an unhealthy relationship, each side begins to improve and thrive, one for the other, one for themselves. coincidentally, they meet at the same dreaded party that led to the breaking of their relationship. will this unfortunate series of events lead them to opportunity?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: fluff

❧ warnings: mild angst, fluffy-ish ending, exes to friends to lovers, one or two curse words, lil bit of crying, mentions of alcohol

❧ a/n: it’s finally over. thank goodness. this also is so long it can be considered a second part fuck. i know i took a whole month to write this, but i barely have free time to write nowadays and the times i do, i don’t have much inspiration. anyways this came out better than i expected so hope you guys enjoy.

in order to understand this ending, please read this first: her hidden crystal tears 

masterlist                     prompt list                     add yourself on my taglist!

In the first month you spent broken up with Tom, you, for once, felt at peace, with no burden of hiding relationships and denying feelings. You had forgotten how free living singly was. Within that month, you were able to reshape your life. Your grades began to improve, and your mental health had phenomenally developed for he better. Your friends had even gone out of their ways to help you with a "glow up."

Tom, on the other hand, had tried to shape him into a better person in hopes of salvaging your crumbling, if you could even call it that, relationship. He worked harder in class, and every time he saw you sitting in the lecture hall, you were surrounded by other classmates, giving him no place to fit in. He also started to distance himself from his old group of friends, looking for a better, influential group.

Tom couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart when he saw you walking with one other friend to class, laughing at something they said. He saw how your under eye-bags turned bright and how you shoulders straightened up after the breakup. It broke his heart to know the negative impact he had on you, which you never complained or spoke out about.

The brunette wanted to improve for you and himself.

How you ended up in a pair of high-waisted, black, denim shorts and a black bandeau with a sheer, cropped, long-sleeved shirt overtop you didn't know. After much begging and bothering, your friend had convinced you to go to the afterparty of the football game. You tried your best to deny their attempts but failed when they baited you with money.

This would be your first time attending a party, for you were always driven home and away from them. You couldn't deny, though, the chills that snaked down your spine at the mention of it.

Stepping into the house, you noticed how similar it looked to a fraternity. People were dancing, pushing their bodies against others and grinding their hips onto drunk partners. Other students were playing beer pong, stripping on tables, or resting on couches with a red, plastic cup in their hands. It smelled terribly of sweat and oversaturated body spray, making you gag on your breath.

"How do so many people like this?" You shouted over the pounding music and loud voices.

"How do you not?" You friend giggled, dragging you through the crowd.

Dodging and pushing people off of you, you gripped your friend's hand tightly, afraid of losing them.

"Where are we going?" You asked, eyes darting all over the place in uncertainty.

"Before we party, we've got to get drinks," they pushed the door of the kitchen open, revealing the alcohol infested space.

Scrambling over to the bulky cooler, they grabbed a can of beer, popping it open and downing it.

Flinching in disgust, you commented, "Don't you want to wash that, first?"

"What d'you mean? It looks perfectly clean to me," they shrugged, throwing you a can.

You clumsily captured the condensated drink, before putting it on the counter behind you, "I don't drink."

They groaned, "Why are you such a doormat? Come on," they nudged your shoulder, "Live a little."

You laughed, "I can "live a little" just fine with water."

"Ugh, fine. I'm guessing you also want to sit in a corner and become a hermit," they spoke, sarcastically.

"Actually," your eyes lit up, "I do."

"You," they pointed at you unsteadily, "annoy me, but since I already brought you along," their finger moved to point at an idle seat in the corner of a calmer room, "There."

You nodded, eyeing the isolated spot with glee. However, before your friend could escape into the crowd, you told them to stay safe and slipped away to occupy said seat. 

Although Tom no longer associated himself with his old group of friends, he couldn’t avoid them forever, as they were his teammates. Also, as the captain of the football team, it was practically an obligation for him to attend the after parties. 

Honestly, ever since you had broken up with Tom, he had developed a small fear of being whisked away by his fangirls and teammates, constantly thinking you were waiting in his car for him. His guilt had piled on top of his conscious, leaving him an insecure wreck.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the filled building, nodding and waving at familiar faces. One face he wasn’t expecting to see sat in the corner of the room was yours. 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured to himself, “She’s not there, you idiot.”

“Tom, buddy,” a familiar voice hollered.

Through your peripheral vision, you swore that you saw his chocolate curls, but when you looked up from your phone, he had disappeared. Your eyes began to dart through the crowd of people, looking for the man you supposedly had gotten over.

Quickly realizing your mistake, you shunned yourself for willingly wrapping yourself around his little finger. You returned to scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself with the illuminated screen.

Tom watched as his teammate, and former friend, grabbed at a girl swaying her hips, pushing her ass against his friend’s crotch, into a grind. Suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable where he stood, he moved into the kitchen to grab a drink.

The room let in muffled sounds but ultimately was the quietest room in the building. The white LED lights left the room bright and easy to navigate, albeit the clusters of finished drinks and used cups littered on the counters and in the sink and overflowing out of the trashcan. 

The brunette drifted over to the fridge, locating the fresh water bottles hidden from other partygoers. 

Feeling quenched, you stood up from your seat, unwillingly. You looked for a quick and precise path to the kitchen, though you failed to do so. Deciding to extemporize it, you awkwardly squished your way through the crowd, mumbling “excuse me” and “sorry” periodically. 

Pushing the white-paint clad, wooden door open, you stumbled your way into the room, glaring at the sudden brightness engulfing your vision. 

Hearing the music and sound of people cheering grow louder, Tom turned around to see the oh-so familiar girl he had fallen infatuated with many months ago.

You stood, blinking your eyes as they tried to adapt to the sudden change of lighting. Groaning, your hands began massaging and harassing the poor skin of your eyelids. 

Your unnoticed ex, still stood in front of the fridge with a cool bottle of water in his hand, smiled at your adorable behaviour — widely contrasting your provocative outfit — watching as your cheeks puffed out in frustration. 

Feeling the haze leave your eyes, you looked ahead of you to see a silhouette emerging. Embarrassed, you blushed, looking down at your shoes. 

You felt a cool presence resting beside your cheek, and quickly looked at the item.

Water? You thought, confused.

Eyes trailing up the arm holding the bottle, your met with the sight of your former boyfriend smiling at you.

“Tom,” you breathed.

After avoiding and ignoring the boy for so many weeks, you already had forgotten how sweet he looked with a smile and soft blush grazing his cheeks. Maybe you hadn’t forgotten; you were just rarely, if ever, given the opportunity to admire it.

“Hey,” he responded, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

You glanced at the bottle then back to Tom, silently asking what he was doing with it.

“O-Oh, I just thought you’d want a bottle of water, since you don’t drink, but if you do now, that’s totally cool too,” he rambled nervously, like a little boy talking to his crush on the playground. 

Although you had only broken up with him a bit over a month ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust taking the drink from him.

“Thanks, but I can get one myself. I’m sure you wanted to drink that too.” 

You gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile before walking past him to the fridge. Reaching into the cool container, you pulled out a frosted water bottle. 

The situation was strange. Everything felt so familiar but so different. It didn’t feel right to talk to each other like you knew how they slept in bed at night or how they loved warm cuddles on the couch as they binged shows and movies. 

“Look, Y/N,” Tom spoke up, breaking the tension with a breath, “I know that I was a jerk we were together. I also know that I neglected you. I shouldn’t have cared about what everyone else thought about our relationship. 

“Looking back, I understand why you were so frustrated with me, and you had every right to break up with me. I was a wuss that used protecting you as an excuse to keep you under covers. I reveled in the popularity and attention I got, back then.

“I’m different, now, though. I’m not saying you have to take me back. You don’t even have to consider it. All I want to do, right here, right now, is to apologize to you, so, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the anguish and sadness I caused. I’m sorry you had to waste your tears on me. I’m so fucking sorry, and if I have the slightest chance to even be your friend again, please let me take it.”

You felt a churning in your core, and tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You didn’t understand where your emotions arose from. You thought that you had moved on from Tom. You thought you had left him behind, left him in the shadows of your life. 

You turned around, hand reaching up to quickly wipe your tears away. That is, until a calloused hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t,” the accented voice choked, “It hurts me as much as it does you.”

Your words were caught in your throat. You tried to say something, anything, but nothing but sobs slipped your lips. 

Everything became a blur. You could only feel warmth enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darling,” Tom murmured into your hair. 

After the encounter at the party, you and Tom went on with your life as normal. 

Although, nothing that happened that night could be considered normal. You cried while he held you tightly in his arms. He apologized for his faults and asked for a second chance, as a friend or more. You forgave him and gave him the chance. 

Will you ever want to have the same relationship you had with Tom as before? No.

You and Tom are working on building a better, healthier relationship for the both of you: an open and honest relationship that won’t be hidden from anyone, especially not his “fangirls.” 

“Don’t ever hide your tears again,” Tom whispered into your hair, “Let them flow.” His pointer finger gently lifts your chin, locking his eyes with your tear-filled ones. He brings his thumb to your cheek, wiping away the shining streaks of pain, sadness, desperation. 

“Let them flow because I’ll be here. I’ll be here to wipe them away every and any time.”

taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos @chloecreatesfictions-archive @dpaccione @cuddlykoala101 @tomshufflepuff @lmaotshollandd​ if you would like to be removed from the taglist, please send to my inbox

summary⇢ what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way. pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 97.1k  rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | college!au | fuckboi!au | fratboy!au

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↳bonus: hoe chronicles 🤪💦

✨series playlist✨

Jamie and Brandon Cody from Sean Cody.

Fear Mongering

Slamming his dorm room shut, Taylor threw his gym duffle bag down on the floor.

“Fuck, these campus protesters! They’re annoying as fuck!” Taylor exclaimed.

Zack, Taylor’s roommate, looked up after the remark. He’d been chilling on his laptop in bed when Taylor came in.

“Yea but aren’t you gay though? You’re supposed to be out there fighting right along with them haha,” Zack joked.

“No way dude. You know I’m not into that ‘help me I’m a victim’ shit, haha,” Taylor joked back, almost like he’d had to defend his non-activism to people on a regular basis.

Zack laughed and returned his attention back to surfing sports articles on his laptop. Taylor also situated himself in bed with his computer.

Both Taylor and Zack were acquaintances turned friends who got along quite well for being opposite sexual orientations. Even though Taylor was gay, he was quite masculine and shared interests with most of the other jock guys around campus. Zack was straight and similarly into working out and sports.

Meanwhile, at the university union, a volunteer by the name of Sam was scouting on social media for people who could join the LGBT protests on campus. Sam was in charge of organizing the groups.

Sam came across Taylor’s Facebook profile and read that he was gay.

“Hmm, I haven’t seen him at the protests.” Sam thought as he clicked on the chat button.

SAM: Hey Taylor my name is Sam I’m a member of the LGBT club on campus. I don’t know if you know but we have a protest tomorrow afternoon to fight for equal rights and bullying awareness, and to make our voices heard.

Taylor received the pop-up message and after reading it immediately let out an angry groan. He turned to his roommate Zack.

“Zack, you gotta see this… now the LGBT club is trying to recruit me for their little protests.” Taylor complained to Zack casually.

“Dude, tell them to fuck off if you don’t want to go. I didn’t even know they were so horribly treated to be protesting like this.” Zack informally advised. Taylor agreed.

Taylor paused a moment before he returned to the chat window…

TAYLOR: Yea sorry I’m not interested.

SAM: But why not? You’re gay right?

TAYLOR: Yea, I am. It doesn’t mean I’m into being some victim.

SAM: There are victims out there! Many gay people are bullied and feel unsafe in their communities!

TAYLOR: Well, I’m sorry I’m not one of those people.

SAM: You really should come.

Getting mad at this point, Taylor lost his temper.

TAYLOR: Look, back off! I will never be some imaginary victim for your little club. People need to get over the ‘fear mongering’ and learn to just live life. GOODBYE!

Taylor wasn’t in the mood to continue the conversation with Sam so he closed the window and went back to surfing the web. Sam was a bit taken back by Taylor’s rudeness and sudden exit. He took it upon himself to view Taylor’s profile and photos. Sam saw that Taylor was very attractive – muscular, had a smooth complexion, and a large Adam’s apple.

“Gosh, he must have a deep voice what that thing!” Sam thought, looking at how Taylor’s Adam’s apple protruded out.

Many of Adam’s photos were shirtless and highlighted his hairy pits, healthy treasure trail, and the perfect amount of chest hair to complement his toned body.

Sam began to think… “Somebody should really put him into his place. Does he not realize some people aren’t as well-off as him?”

Sam nodded his head in disgust before suddenly realizing…

“Oh yea! I should…” Sam seemed to remember something…

He pulled out his phone and began a text.

After he sent the text to the nameless number he thought to himself: “I’m sure he’ll make the perfect changes. He always knows what to do.”

Some hours had passed – Taylor and Zack were both immersed with music, sports, and gaming on their laptops. The dorm was warm with the hot weather so both guys had ditched their t-shirts on the floor. The room itself was actually quite messy with littered clothes on the floor and beer cups around.

Zack looked up at Taylor. “Hey bro you wanna play some Madden?”

Taylor looked up to answer Zack.

“Sure man!” Taylor replied – as he looked at the clock.

“Just let me grab a shower really quick,” Taylor added, as he grabbed his shower bag and left for the communal shower rather swiftly.

In total there were six shower stalls that faced each other in pairs. Taylor walked in and saw nobody else was in there. He walked to the back stall and began showering.

Not but two minutes into showering Taylor heard the door to the shower room open and close. One by one the other showers were being turned on. The shower room naturally became louder and steamier. Thinking nothing of it, he continued to wash up. All of the sudden, when Taylor happen to be facing away from the opening, a hand covered by a glove came from behind and covered Taylor’s mouth.

In that instant, Taylor was grabbed and forced up against the tiled shower wall only to be face to face with a masked man. Unable to yell for help, Taylor was only able to look around. The man signaled to a large knife he had in his possession. Continuing to cover Taylor’s mouth, he made a ‘shhh’ signal with his finger. Taylor nodded his head yes in submission.

With that, the masked man, wearing water resistant clothing, uncovered Taylor’s mouth then turned off the shower while the hot water in the other stalls continued running – filling the whole room with more steam.

Taylor, while built himself, was no match for the much larger man who was standing in front of him.

Taylor thought rapidly, “I can’t get stabbed in here. Just give him what he wants and get help.”

The man spoke. “You try to run, game over. You yell, game over. Got it?”

Taylor, seeing the knife being handled in front of him chose to nod yes in agreement.

With that, the man took off one of his black gloves, revealing a particularly masculine looking hand, with tattooed symbols on it. He lowered his knife slowly and placed it in his holster. Taylor remained motionless in fear. The body size difference was evident, Taylor was a foot shorter and 50 pounds lighter than the masked man who stood almost touching him.

With his bare hand, the man began to rub Taylor’s wet chest, moving Taylor’s dark chest hairs in many directions. Taylor winced and squirmed slightly at the contact.

“What the fuck does this guy want?” Taylor thought.

Taylor decided to ask thus softly spoke… “What do you want?”

Rather than answer anything, the man simply held a finger up to his own mouth. “Shhh.”

He resumed rubbing Taylor’s chest hair.

“You like this chest hair, yea? I’m sure you like showing it off under your shirts.”

Taylor, taken by surprise over the seemingly sick question, shortly paused, then answered reluctantly.

“Y-yea, why?” Taylor stammered out.

The moment after answering, Taylor began to feel tingling in his chest area. While the man gazed at it he continued to rub it with his coarse hand.

The tingling turned into slight discomfort for Taylor as he felt the hairs on his chest seem to retract slightly.

“Hey, what’s happening?” Taylor spoke delicately.

Going ignored, Taylor looked down and saw his once healthy growth of chest hairs retreating back into his skin. Now roughly a quarter of what it used to be, Taylor looked back up at the man.

“What are you doing?”

The man simply replied: “It’s just chest hair, boy. You don’t seem to have very much of it.”

Taylor squirmed once again as the tingling sensations continued all up and down his chest area. Then, seemingly without warning, the rough hand that’d been grazing his chest suddenly moved lower, down toward his naval and treasure trail.

“Yea, boy. You like that trail too?” The man asked, following it with an evil laugh.

Taylor felt an itching sensation followed by general tingling all along his treasure trail. Taylor tried to step to the side in an attempt to distance himself from the man but it was of no use. Shortly after the tingling slowed Taylor felt the man’s hand move even lower.

“And what do we have here? A nice bush I see.” The man said, moving his hand into Taylor’s rather thick bush of brown pubes.

Taylor couldn’t see what was happening but it felt like his pubes were tingling and moving around.

“I don’t understand….” Taylor stuttered out.

Again ignored, Taylor turned to mental conversation… “It’s so hot in here, so steamy. The moment I get out of here I’m calling the cops! Just gotta get through this… stay strong.”

Not but a minute later all the tingling stopped and the masked man took a step back. At first Taylor was relieved to have some personal space returned however when he looked down at his body and was shocked by what he saw.

“W…What the hell?” Taylor said in awe.

“My body hair… it’s gone!” Taylor said very matter-a-fact.

All that remained were four or five small chest hairs and a peach-fuzz-amount of pubes. Gone was Taylor’s treasure trail and gone was his bush.

Taylor analyzed his situation. “Everything else looks normal. I’ll be okay,” he thought. His flaccid 7.5in cock looked more-or-less normal, despite being practically hairless.

“It’ll grow back,” Taylor assured himself.

Then without warning, the man grabbed ahold of Taylor’s arms and pinned them up on the wall above his head.

“Those are some hairy pits you have, boy.”

“Just let me go, I won’t tell anybody,” Taylor pleaded.

“No no, I insist. These hairy pits you have must really impress,” the man mocked, beginning to twirl Taylor’s pit hair with his free hand. The hair was long and impressive as the man played with each pit one-by-one.

To accompany the tingling that shortly began, a slight burning sensation now emanated from within his pits. Taylor stood trapped with his arms above his head wondering what was going on.

“It feels like my hairs are retracting. What are you doing?” Taylor submissively asked.

“It’s just pit hair. You’ll be fine,” mocked the man. He glided his rough hand on each pit for another minute.

“There.” The man said as he allowed Taylor to lower his arms.

Instantly Taylor felt the lack of ‘something’ under his arms. He looked downward and saw that there was no hair sticking out of the sides of his pits like normal. He lifted his right arm slightly and saw only a few short whispers of brown hair remaining.

The observation of his body was cut short when the man, still standing closely in front of him, once again motioned to the knife he possessed. Taylor’s eyes lit with renewed fear.

“You know what happens if you try anything…” The man announced sternly.

Taylor reluctantly nodded yes. The man responded, “good,” and immediately placed his hands firmly on Taylor’s shoulders.

Taylor was horrified to feel the new body contact from his attacker. Taylor briefly thought about how rough the skin was on the man’s gloveless hand.

“What the hell else does he want?” he wondered.

Taylor noted how the weight on his shoulders was increasing.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Have you always been built like this, boy?”

Taylor didn’t answer, he just stood there motionless.

As the man pushed harder down, a sudden feeling of nausea and dizziness struck. Taylor attempted blinking to clear his vision but it was of no use… his muscles were on fire and it felt like he was a tad shorter each time he opened his eyes.

By the time he came to, Taylor looked forward and stood adjacent to the man’s chest rather than his chin like just moments ago.

“But wha…” Taylor began. He looked downward and saw he was closer to the shower floor than usual, and his abs were…

“What happened to my abs? My pecs?” Taylor saw his muscular figure had been reduced to practically a fraction of what it was previously.

Taylor was relieved to see his flaccid 7.5-inch cock was still in tact.

“This is just a visual mind trick. I’ll be fine,” Taylor willed himself internally.

The man gave Taylor’s abdominal region a rub. “You’re a lean boy I see.”

“Dude, just let me go. I won’t go to the cops, just take what you want and go.” Taylor pleaded in his deep voice, it reverberating in the shower room.

The man lifted his hand and gently placed it on Taylor’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down from a swallow.

“Hmm… dude?” The man provoked.

Swallowing once again, Taylor felt his Adam’s apple glide up and down the man’s coarse hand. It began tingling under the weight.

“What are you doing?” Taylor spoke out quickly as he cleared his throat of an itch.

“You don’t hAVe to do this,” Taylor said, his voice cracking once before returning to his normal deep tone.

“Oh, yes I do boy” the man insisted.

“Call me a dude again, boy,” he ordered to Taylor.

“It really sounds masculine the way you say it,” the man pointed out.

Taylor froze at the bizarre request and remained speechless.

“Say it.”

With his Adam’s apple still being massaged, Taylor spoke…

“DuUude,” he eventually said, his voice cracking once violently, ending a tad higher but still masculine enough.

The masked man ordered, “Again.”

“DuUuUde,” Taylor whimpered it out, voice cracking violently upward several times.

Taylor felt his Adam’s apple reducing in prominence but felt had no choice but to keep repeating…

“DuUde,” his Adam’s apple tingled and moved around.

“DuUUde,” he said once more as his voice cracked very violently up – and stayed there.

The man signaled to stop.

“If you’re a dude you gotta sound like one, boy. It’s gotta sound right if you want to pull it off.”

“Say it one more time now, boy.”

Taylor said it.

“Dude.”

For Taylor, his pupils dilated in shock when he heard himself speak in a voice that couldn’t have been his own. It seemed more boy-like and it made saying the word ‘dude’ sound improper. Taylor felt his throat and felt no remains of his Adam’s apple.

“You don’t look like the kind of boy who says words like that too often.”

“Now… one more thing…” the man mumbled to himself as he scanned the much more effeminate-looking Taylor up and down.

“No please, I will give you anything you want. I won’t go to the cops. I won’t tell anyone,” Taylor cried out softly with his higher voice – just as he saw the man move closer toward him.

The man placed his hand on Taylor’s soft 7.5-inch cock.

“Go ahead, get hard for me, boy.”

Taylor resisted and squirmed a bit against the shower wall as the man began rubbing the shaft with his bare hand.

“That’s an impressive cock you have here, I said get it hard.”

Despite willing himself to remain soft, the handling by the man forced him hard. Before long, all 8.5 inches of his hard cock poked out in front of him. It especially looked hung due to the now-smaller body it was attached to.

Instead of continuing to massage Taylor’s dick, the man switched to simply grabbing it around the shaft – rather tight. The discomfort was apparent on Taylor’s face.

“I bet you get hard real easy, boy. Do you control it well? The truth…” the man asked.

Taylor replied. “I control it, yea.”

“WRONG ANSWER,” the man affirmed, as he squeezed Taylor’s cock. Taylor whimpered from the feeling.

Taylor looked down and saw his dick in a tight grip – and it looked thinner and shorter. Taylor guessed it to be an erect 7 inches.

“You can’t….” Taylor begged.

“Oh really?” The man tormented.

With that, the man squeezed once again, Taylor cried softly as he felt his dick throb inside the man’s hand. Taylor felt the head of his dick lower, closer toward fitting inside the man’s grip.

“Let’s try this again… Do you control your dick well? Do you get hard whenever you see a man’s pubes or pit hair? Does the sight of those two things give you an instant hard on, boy?”

In defiance, Taylor refused to answer at all.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION, BOY.”

At that instant, the man squeezed Taylor’s dick rather tight – tighter than previously. Taylor cried out and closed his eyes in pain. When Taylor closed his eyes he saw images of hairy jock pits and pubes – his dick lurched forward out of control as he felt cum travel up his shaft.

“No, I control my loads, noo,” Taylor thought, but ultimately failing to wipe the images from his mind.

“Ah, fuck!!” Taylor orgasmed – two smaller shots oozed out – he felt them. He opened his eyes to look down, his heart still beating hard.

“No! My dick what did you do?” Taylor saw his cock now reduced from near 8 inches down to 4 inches just as it began to go flaccid again.

“Your dick…” The man began. “Your dick has always been this way: below average and hard at the sight of man pits and man pubes. You can’t help it.”

“But…”

Without warning the man placed his index finger in the center of Taylor’s forehead. Taylor immediately closed his eyes and froze in place.

“You will wake up and not remember any of what’s happened. You will think your body has been this way forever. You will act like everything is normal and you will go about your life the same way you always have.”

The man released his finger and swiftly vanished. Once Taylor realized he was just standing there, he turned on the shower and began to wash up – forgetting all of what just transpired.

“I can’t wait to play some Madden all night, fuck yea,” he thought with a smile.

Back in the dorm room, Zack was still laying on his bed shirtless with his headphones on. Due to the layout of the room, Zack didn’t have a view of the door.

Out of nowhere and from behind – a man’s large knife appeared against Zack’s side, causing his heart to skip a beat in fear. He looked to his right and saw a masked man holding up a finger to his mouth…

“Shhhh,” the man signaled.

Zack was fixed on the man’s knife. After a second the man knelt over and removed Zack’s headphones. Zack remained motionless.

“Keep still and calm and it’ll be ok.”

The man pulled the blanket off Zack to reveal all of Zack’s jock body. He’d only been wearing his athletic shorts and boxers.

The man saw Zack was clearly full of fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just let me see something,” the man said smoothly.

As the man raised Zack’s right arm there was initial resistance as Zack gently fought the motion. The man continued to raise it until he was able to see all of Zack’s pit hair – brown hairs clumped in the center.

“Hold still,” the man ordered.

“Keep your arm up.”

The man placed his tattooed hand straight into Zack’s right armpit just as Zack flinched and looked away in fear.

“What the fuck does this dude want, holy shit,” Zack thought in panic.

Suddenly Zack felt his pit hair being twirled around and pulled gently by the man.

Zack felt a gentle rubbing all over his armpit. Tingling began to emanate from within his pit just as he heard the man laugh briefly to himself.

“Ugh, what are you doing?” Zack asked with hesitation.

Zack’s question went unanswered as he continued to feel his pit hairs being handled. After a moment of it, Zack began to feel like the man was playing with more hair than what was there initially.

Zack turned to look at his right armpit – the man was gently pulling on his hairs, making them longer simultaneously.

Zack was in a state of awe. “But, how?”

The man laughed a deep grunt. “Longer, and thicker. It’ll stick out from the sides no matter how you arrange it.”

“But…” Zack started.

The man dropped Zack’s right arm then swiftly lifted his left. Instantly the man began playing with Zack’s left armpit hair.

“Pits make a man, yea?” The man mocked.

“It’s gotta stick out, you know what I mean?” The man stated.

After a minute Zack’s left arm dropped to its sides, just as he was able to look down at himself.

“But, the hair is everywhere. It’s sticking out so untamed and wiry and it’s long as fuck. What did you do to them?” Zack spoke, voice quivering with awe and fear.

Zack watched the man flash the knife in front of his face, eliciting fresh fear, as he watched the man begin to handle the waistband of the boxers he’d been wearing under his shorts.

Slowly at first but then rather fast, the man yanked Zack’s boxers and shorts down to his knees as he lay there in his bed practically frozen in fear, pit hairs sticking out all the while.

“That’s a respectable package you got there. 7 inches soft ‘aint bad,” the man stated.

“We gotta fix a few things still,” the man followed with an evil laugh.

He placed his rough, bare hand near Zack’s pubes and began to scratch the short hairs that Zack had obviously trimmed back at some point.

“Ughh, I’ll give you whatever you want just leave,” Zack said, trying not come off as a beg.

Without any indication coming from the man, Zack was ignored, simply laying there, sitting up in his bed watching his pubes being scratched. They were beginning to itch as they were scratched….

“It feel like he’s scratching more hair what the fuck,” Zack thought.

Zack looked down and saw his pubes growing outward, some curling and some growing straight upward.

“Wha…,” Zack was speechless.

“I don’t understand…”

Zack’s pubes were growing all around the man’s hand as he continued to scratch.

“Yea buddy, these pubes you have are also impressive. They come up past your boxers I bet,” the man pointed out.

Zack looked and was in awe to see that coarse pubes now stuck out in all directions.

“W-Why are you doing this?” Zack stuttered.

“Now now, just relax.” The man began to pet Zack’s balls. “Your cock is good but these balls…”

With his rough hand, the man handled Zack’s balls with delicateness.

“I figure a guy like you is always leaking pre. You probably can’t help it, even when you’re soft.”

Zack nodded no. “Please, you can take anything you want just leave me alone. I can give you money.”

“Nah, here, you feel that?” The man asked with a smirk.

Zack felt his balls moving around and becoming heaver in his sac. A droplet of pre escaped his flaccid shaft.

“Ugh, what did you d—,” Zack was cut off when the man’s finger landed softly in the middle of his forehead. Zack froze.

“You will wake up and not remember any of what’s happened. You will think your body has been this way forever. You will act like everything is normal and you will go about your life the same way you always have,” the man began.

The man paused briefly then continued.

“You will no longer find homosexuals as equals. You find homosexuals annoying. You try to be nice to them but your patience will wear away quickly if you’re forced to interact with them.”

The man paused again.

“And you will view them as lesser humans. You feel obligated to treat them badly and call them bad names.”

“You will feel an urge to show off your developed manhood to them.”

The man stood up after pulling Zack’s boxers up to his waist. Pubes were sprouting out from the waistband toward his belly.

With swiftness, the man left the dorm room as Zack went in and out of consciousness – his personality being rewired without him realizing it.

Back in the showers, Taylor just finished. He was walking back to his room when a group of frat bros passed him. Taylor nodded and greeted one of them as per usual. “Sup bro?”

The three frat bros stopped walking and looked at each other briefly before raising their eyebrows in judgment. The frat bro that Taylor greeted chuckled and took a step backward.

Taylor stood there confused why he was being laughed at.

“It was just a simple greeting what the fuck,” he thought.

One of them shouted out to the other, “be careful dude, you’ll catch the fag haha.”

Taylor felt repulsed and angry but realized he wouldn’t let the word taunt him.

Taylor didn’t waste any more time with the frat bros, he quickly moved past them continuing to his dorm room.

“What the hell is into them. They act like I’m some sensitive bitch. Fuck them!”

Taylor brushed the awkward exchange off and went into his room. When he walked in he saw Zack with his headphones on reading on his laptop, still in the same spot as when he left for the shower.

Taylor dropped his towel to the floor as he typically did and began rummaging the floor for clean clothes. As he did, he yelled over to Zack.

“Dude, you ready for some Madden?” Taylor said aloud in his new boy voice, not realizing it sounded any different than normal.

Zack looked up at Taylor, who was standing naked on his half of the room.

“Uhh, not with you,” Zack said after unconsciously making a face of disgust rather outwardly. Zack looked over at Taylor and was further turned off at what he saw standing nude in front of him. He thought briefly how effeminate Taylor looked and how off-putting it was to look the way he did, standing there…

“He’s so much of a limp-prissy faggot, Jesus. Ugh why do I have to deal with this?” Zack found himself thinking.

Taylor, who remained naked as per usual behavior, pressed Zack on his apparent sour mood and walked over to Zack’s side of the room to see what was wrong.

“You ok, bro?” Taylor asked, although he lacked any sense of masculinity in the process.

Zack sat upright in bed as a new thought seemed to kick in. “This faggot is fucking annoying,” he thought.

Zack scratched his armpit without thinking. “I said I don’t want to fucking play with you, you fucking faggot. Can’t you hear?” As if not satisfying the initial itch, Zack began to scratch his pits again. The hairs were pointing out in all directions.

Taylor stopped dead in his tracks, feeling his face brighten red.

“Did he just call me a fag? Really…” Taylor thought.

Taylor was about to stick up for himself but in front of him he saw Taylor scratching his armpits. He suddenly thought about how hairy they were.

“His pits, they are so hairy. He’s scratching them, I can’t stop looking holy shit they’re so hairy,” Taylor observed. Taylor didn’t realize that his little cock was rising quickly to a full 4-inch erection as he stood in the middle of Zack’s side of the room.

Zack watched Taylor develop a full-on erection right in front of him.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You little faggot can’t even keep it down?” Zack complained.

“You fuckin’ staring at my pits, fag?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Taylor knew something was wrong with the situation but felt powerless to move. His face felt like it was on fire.

Zack chimed in further. “I don’t know why we let fags like you on campus. Fuckin pervs,” Zack complained more. He removed the blanket covering his legs and got out of his bed to stretch.

As Zack stretched his arms up to the ceiling, Taylor felt powerless not to look at Zack’s body up and down.

Zack made it a point to scratch his bulge so that Taylor was forced to see it. “You think you’re equal to straight men, little faggy?”

Taylor felt weak in his legs at the sight of the pubes that were spilling out of Zack’s boxers. Taylor dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the floor.

Zack smirked. “Typical.”

Zack walked over and grabbed Taylor’s hair, guiding his face to look up.

“You little fags can’t ever learn your place. You see this bulge? You see it?”

“Straight men rule you fags.”

Zack forced Taylor’s nose against his boxers. The boxers were damp from apparent precum.

Taylor knew the treatment he was getting was wrong but the scent of pre and musk was affecting him.

“I-Iuhhh…” Taylor couldn’t speak. The hairs sticking out of Zack’s boxers were clouding his mind.

“That’s what I thought, now clean up this floor. Put my jockstraps in the basket and get all these cum rags in the trash. Hurry the fuck up.” Zack ordered, pointing to a pile of tissues near his bed, all the while continuing to adjust his cock through the boxers in a way that made Taylor weak.

Taylor felt small and insignificant as he began complying. “This isn’t right. But I can’t stop… what’s wrong with me? I don’t deserve this.”

“Ugh, these cum towels are everywhere,” he thought.

“DONE YET FAGGOT?” Zack yelled from nearby. Taylor felt Zack’s domineering presence directly over him as he was picking the soiled towels and rags up. Taylor submissively looked up and saw Zack had removed his boxers and was now standing naked right in front of him.

“You got some more cleaning to do fag,” Zack said as he grabbed Taylor’s chin and slammed it toward his crotch.

The hair around Zack’s balls was damp and Taylor winced at the smell. Zack moved his hand around to the back of Taylor’s head and pushed a bit more, forcing Taylor’s nose and mouth deep into the bushy pubes that Zack had now.

“You like this don’t you faggy?” Zack laughed.

Taylor could only see a forest of dark brown pubes in front of him.

“Ughh, pubes, they’re so curly and thick,” Taylor thought. Suddenly Taylor felt an urge to cum.

“No, I can’t cum from this!” Taylor tried to convince himself.

“Oh god, no!” Taylor felt it happening…

“Uhhnnn,” Taylor breathed rapidly as he twitched his hip forward.

The first spurt of cum oozed out of Taylor’s cock and dribbled down his short shaft. Zack took a step back to watch just as Taylor’s second, final shot of cum dribbled out and onto the carpet in front of him.

Still on his knees, Taylor was shaking from humiliation. He looked up at Zack who was smirking and beginning to massage his own dick.

“You fairies are all the same, you disgusting freaks.”

“You want to see a real man’s load? Not like that boy shit you just made.” Zack moved closer once again to Taylor’s face and slapped him in the face with his hard-on a few times.

Zack began jacking off his meaty 8.5-inch cock directly in front of Taylor’s face. Taylor couldn’t look away from the veins and the forest of pubes that surrounded it. Pre began dripping onto Taylor’s chest.

Once Taylor felt Zack place his hand firmly on the back of his head he knew he wouldn’t be able to break away.

“This isn’t right,” he thought. “I don’t want to be his cum rag.”

“I have more worth than that.”

Taylor looked up through Zack’s forest of pubes only to set his gaze on Zack’s armpit hairs sticking out everywhere. Not until Zack spoke was he able to finally avert his attention to look him in the eyes.

“Ready fag?”

“You ready for your new life as my slave and personal cum rag?”

“You worthless piece of faggot shit.”

“Ughnnnngh, Zack groaned and tightened his face.

Taylor hadn’t realized his mouth was opened until all of the sudden an initial stream of cum landed inside. Taylor felt another stream land on his nose and chin. Unable to move his head back, another two spurts of cum landed across both cheeks. Zack continued to breath heavy and grunt as he released more loads onto Taylor’s forehead and eyes.

Zack slowly stopped shooting and began oozing cum out of his dick. He rubbed his cock over Taylor’s mouth.

“Clean it off.”

Taylor felt powerless to resist as he used his tongue to clean the still-leaking head of Zack’s cock clean.

“Good faggot.”

Taylor felt like a huge weight was placed upon him. Like he would never be able to be equal with Zack.

Hey Wishmaster, This is Funhouse seems awful scary. I was coming here with my friends in the GSA and they've all left me. There are so many bright neon lights, and well this one door. The door is painted in loud, obnoxious colors – bold green with some odd symbols on it, almost clashing with the rest of the funhouse's aesthetic. The doorknob was adorned with a cheap, plastic beer bottle opener, and the handle itself had an unmistakably pungent odor of stale beer, sweat, and the musk.

You walk in and suddenly your IQ drops. Your vocabulary suddenly consists of the words Bro, Dude and Fuck AS you move further in you see that you've changed physically as well

You find yourself setting your phone to record you. Fuck Bro, you say as thinking about anything but looking damn good made your brain hurt. You wink a th camera as you quickly film a vid of yourself for TiTok, that usually gets the ladies going crazy, wait.. ladies, weren't you gay? Fuck no I ain't no faggot you think.

You flx your body, you feel powerful as you refocus on your sexuality.

You turn to look in the miror.

I'd fuck me you laughed as you quickly rethought things, maybe you wouldn't mind one of your bros sticking their tasty dick in you mouth, If you don't swallow or get cum in you it's not gay..right?

Fuck, bro...dude my head hurts I need something to distract me.

you see your bro sitting there, so you drop trow and start sucking his cock, he's shocked at first as you seem very good at blowing him. He blows his load down your throat next thing you know you're suddenly the House Bitch, by the end of the night you got your bros jizz leaking from both your holes. You chug a beer as cum is still covering your face, damn you love being a Frat Bro, Yo!

After his daily workout Jeremy returns to his room to get some rest; however, upon his return his master awaits him. His master tells him he want’s to inspect his prize. Jeremy obeys his master’s wishes and instantly becomes docile. Master reaches around Jeremy’s broad torso and turns him around. His wide back rotates so that his front torso is clearly visible. Jeremy is told to flex and that his pectoral growth is inspected first. The rest comes later.

*model: Jeremy Scott (fitness)

Brent Buller

IG: Brent_Buller

Ultimate southern frat jock

Frog+ Cat= Frat #frat #forg #frog #cat #purple #blue #jackets #sports #google #digitalart #doodles #phoneart #untraditionalart (at Henrico) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvBuaRYgbmM/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1tler5mfualey

New Year's Resolution

Hey bros, Happy New Year's! I hope you all make this year your best yet and I hope you all reach your goals. I came up with a short story on the fly to ring in the new year. Hope you guys didn't party too hard like these two!

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Before I knew it, 2024 was almost here. Everyone always says that next year will be their year, but few people actually end up following through with their New Year's resolutions. Some people want to make more money, some might want to quit smoking, but me? I just wanna get jacked, bro. I know how it goes though. People go to the gym for a week, then are unable to keep up with that lifestyle. But I can do it, and I will. I felt a sense of determination with the desire to get in shape.

I found myself at a New Year's party. One of my co-workers invited me. I didn't know most of the people there, but I didn't have any plans so I decided to go, because why not? My friends barely have time for me anyways. A lot of them have started to settle down and some decided to have smaller celebrations with their spouses or are visiting family.

I was sitting on the couch when a guy I've never met sat down next to me and greeted me. He told me his name was Mike. He was my age, wearing a backwards hat, tank top, and shorts. Not exactly the best look for the winter, but he looked just like a fuckboy who partied all day every day. He probably just wears this every day just to show off his muscles and pick up chicks. He started chatting me up about the party and about the football game that was on the TV. I didn't really know anything about sports, but it was what was on so I played along, not wanting to be rude. He asked me what my New Year's resolution was. I said I wanted to get jacked. He seemed confident that I could do it. He downed what had to have been his third beer so far before asking if I wanted another drink as well. His breath stank with the scent of beer.

I said sure. As long as it got this dude away from me for a minute or two. I might tolerate him more if I was drunk anyways since it didn't seem like he was going anywhere anytime soon. He came back carrying two bottles of the same type of beer. We made a toast for the new year and chugged our beers. As I drank, I started to realize that Mike wasn't that bad for a dudebro. He was actually really chill. I ended up asking for his number so we can get drinks sometime. He said he knows some good bars nearby and he didn't live too far from me.

He asked me what my New Year's resolution is. He already asked me that though? His memory must not be the best since he was drunk. I told him I wanted to be jacked, kinda like him. He chuckled a dumb laugh, drunk from the excessive amount of alcohol he drank tonight.

"What do you mean? You're already jacked, bro."

I was confused at first. I didn't have a lot of muscle.

"Look at yourself dude."

I thought he was fucking with me until I looked down. My biceps felt like they were throbbing, burning as they seemingly increased in size. I panicked, running to the bathroom, unsure of whether I wanted to check out my new gains or find a way to stop the aching burn in my muscles. I looked at myself in the mirror, and flexed. I wasn't hallucinating. I was just as jacked as the bro I was drinking with. I stripped down. I realized that I had a six pack as well. The dude from before knocks before entering the bathroom with me.

"You good bro?"

"What the fuck did you do to me?" I asked, overwhelmed by my new body.

"You said you wanted to be jacked, so I made you jacked. I put something in your drink, and now you're huge. Isn't that what you wanted, dude?"

I couldn't deny that. I wasn't sure whether to feel grateful to him or mad at him for doing this without my consent. He could've even drugged me further. Before I could comprehend everything, he grabbed my shoulder, pulling me in for a picture, showing off our ripped bodies.

"Hey, try my hat on. I wanna see how you look in it now."

He tossed me the hat he was wearing, but I didn't wear hats. I took care of my hair and I didn't want my hair to get messy. I wanted to look professional, not like a frat bro. Despite that, I found myself wanting to put it on, and so I did. To my surprise, I even turned it backwards just like my best bud. Best bud? I didn't really have a best friend. But Mike was my new best friend. We met at my co-worker's New Year's party and we hit it off really well. I needed a new workout partner to help me stay consistent, so he offered to take me with him every day. He's actually looking for a new roommate so I might move in with him since we get along so well. Makes it more convenient since we plan to hang out and party all the time in the coming year.

I start to realize that my mannerisms are changing, starting to match his. Before I was uptight and professional, a total bore. Now I’m an outgoing, party-loving dudebro. I felt my penis grow erect in my pants and start leaking as I became as horny as Mike, with my length growing to a sexy 9 inches to go alongside his. I doubt that I could pull as much as him with my old size.

"You feeling better, bro?"

"Yeah dude. I feel great! Let's pound some more brewskis and fuck a baddie or two."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Mike gave me a high-five. "You can keep the hat by the way. A memory of the day we met, bro."

And keep it I did. I decided I would wear it everywhere, especially when I was out with him and his bros. I would fit perfectly in with them in a way that my old self would have never.

We returned to the party with even more beers in our hands, and me and Mike chugged every last one of them. We drank the most beers out of anyone in the party combined. My coworker caught the two of us causing a scene and kicked us out. He almost didn't recognize me at first, but after seeing me with him, he started to put two and two together. He told Mike that this is why he doesn’t invite him anywhere. I thought my coworker would tell my boss about my conduct, but I didn't really care what happens. It's not my fault I’m a party animal.

"What a buzzkill," Mike said. "Whatever. Let's go back to my place. I took a box of beer with us to finish as we left. They aren't gonna finish themselves."

Midnight was still a few hours away, and all of his bros were at other parties anyways. We sat down on his messy couch and finished what was left of the beers, cheering on our team and playing loud music. Didn't matter where we were or who we were with, we were the life of the party. My bro became pent up after not being able to get any action tonight and so was I. I offered to suck him off. After all, it's not gay to suck a homie off, and so we got off together. Getting head from him was almost as good as a hot babe. I’ve never had a guy blow me before. Neither of us could tell the other how much we really enjoyed it without the fear of being called gay.

After we both released our loads, we passed out from all the alcohol we drank, him on top of me. I don't think I ever drank this much in my life, and it was just one night. We woke up, looking like a total mess on the couch. Damn, we slept past midnight. I was still wearing his hat. I thought I would wake up and find out this was all a dream, but nah. I’m still Mike’s douchey best friend. But I smiled, knowing that we would always have each other’s back.

"Happy New Year’s, bro." I said.

"Happy New Year’s! Now tell me your real New Year's resolution, dude?" Mike answered, obviously hungover.

"I wanna party and fuck all year long!"

"Fuck yeah, bro!" He gave me a strong, brotherly hug. He told me about a rager that one of his friends was hosting tonight. All of his bros are invited and so am I, and some hot babes are gonna be there. This was the life I always wished I had, and this year, it will be my life.

How Things Used To Be

I wonder how long it took me to notice that there was something wrong with Nathan.  We had been best friends for years, ever since the 5th grade, and we always hung out together both in and out of school.  I was hoping things could’ve stayed like that this summer, but it seemed like fate had other plans.  Between family vacations and college prep, it seemed like he didn’t have time for me anymore.  And to make it worse, whenever he wasn’t doing that, he was hanging out with some other guys who I had never met, and he never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to come with.  I know people grow and change, but I didn’t want to see it happen to my own best friend.  On the bright side, we’re going to the same college, so I hope I can see him around.

And I did see him.  It was the third week of courses, once I was starting to get acquainted with campus life.  For once, I was actually being more social, trying to fill the gap that Nathan left.  I used this opportunity to start talking to people in my classes and I found that we had some similar interests.  I wish I could say the same for my roommate, but he mostly keeps to himself and we don’t have much in common.

Okay, back to Nathan.  I was walking back to the dorms after my last class, texting one of my classmates about the homework.  I was interrupted when I walked headfirst into another student.  I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings.  I looked up at the giant in front of me, probably 6’3”, before apologizing.

“James, is that you?”  the giant asked.  The voice sounded very familiar, yet at the same time, different.  I took a closer look at him.  “Long time no see, huh?”  I was surprised when I realized who it was.

“Nate?  Woah, what happened to you?”  I couldn’t believe that this person in front of me was my best friend.  This was not the same Nathan from three months ago during graduation.  He was always a bit taller than me, but he had to have grown at least 3 inches.  He used to wear glasses, but it seemed like he switched over to contacts.

In the warm August heat, he was wearing a tank top which revealed his newfound biceps for the whole world to see.  The tank top clung closely to his chest and I could see his newly-formed six-pack through the fabric.  He was wearing basketball shorts that were short enough that I could catch a glimpse of his thighs, which were just as big as his arms.  I never knew Nathan went to the gym, and if he did, he never told me.  But still, I couldn’t comprehend how he became so huge in just three months, which made me more curious about what he had been up to.  A backwards hat fit tightly atop his head with Greek letters on them.  Sigma Lambda Chi…  Had Nathan really joined a frat?  To be completely honest, he looked like he was cosplaying as a frat bro, a far cry from how I knew him.

“Like what you see, bro?”  James chuckled, as he flexed one of his arms.  He definitely never came across as a cocky showoff, but I was too distracted by his flexed bicep to notice.  I caught myself staring for a second too long, before feeling my face turn red hot.  Me and Nathan knew everything about each other, but there was one thing I never told him.  I was gay.  To tell you the truth, I had a crush on him, but I knew I could never tell him to preserve our friendship.  But now he looks even better, and he hasn’t made time for me at all.  Now he really felt out of my league.

“I’ve been working out a lot lately.  I’m glad you noticed.”  He still had his signature smile, but it looked out of place on his new body.  His face especially looked a lot more angular and masculine.  A visible tan glazed over his body like a fresh coat of paint.

“Daaamn!  You look great, dude!”  To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel talking to him again.  On one hand, I was happy to see him again, and, admittedly, a little surprised to see him like this.  On the other hand, he ditched me this whole summer to hang out with some other guys.  It felt so bittersweet.

“If there weren’t other people around, I’d let you…I mean uh, how have you been bro?  I know I’ve been busy a lot lately.  Sorry about that, dude.”  We told each other what we did over the summer, and wow, was his summer more interesting.

As we caught up, I learned more about what he has been up to.  Apparently, he joined a frat and he was hanging out with the guys there more and more.  He promised that he’d bring me to a party sometime, but I was hesitant because I’m not much of a party animal.  That lifestyle just isn’t for me.  He also said he was thinking about joining our school’s football team at the request of his roommate, which I found even more surprising because Nathan never played sports in high school.  I did track, but I was never that big into sports myself.  Our conversation was interrupted as another guy entered the scene.

“Yo, Nate!  Finally found you.  You seriously need to get better at texting me back, dude.  And who’s this dude?”  The guy was wearing the same hat as Nate, so I figured he was one of his frat bros.

“My bad, bro.  Brett, this is James.  We go way back.  James, this is Brett.  He’s my roommate.  We met over the summer and we’ve been hanging out since.”

“Alright, cool, bro,”  Brett responded, clearly impatient and indifferent towards me.  He dismissed me entirely, almost like I wasn’t worth his time.  “You still going to the gym with me or what?”

“Sorry, bro.  I just ran into him and we were catching up.”  Nathan responded.  “Hey, I gotta get going.  We should get food sometime.  Peace!”  I watched as Nathan and Brett walked away in the opposite direction of me towards the gym.  As they moved further away, I could hear Brett chastise him about something.  This is the guy that Nathan ditched me for?  I hope I’m wrong, but he seemed like kind of a dick.  I know I was jealous of him for taking up my best friend’s time, but I didn’t trust him.  As for me, I returned to the dorm to work on the assignment with my roommate.

The next time I saw Nate was that weekend, when I held up his promise to get something to eat.  I tried to ask him about it earlier in the week, but he was doing stuff at the frat all that time.  I was at least grateful that he took time out of his schedule for me for once.  He mentioned that he normally doesn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t in the frat, almost like they were some exclusive bro clique that I was excluded from.  For once, it was good to hang out with him one-on-one without any of his frat bros getting in the way.  I expected things to be like how they were before, but I couldn’t be any more wrong.

It’s not that I disliked the new Nathan, but I felt like we didn’t have much common ground anymore.  It was like he was a completely different person.  He didn’t seem to care that much about our old interests anymore.  He didn’t have time for video games and he just wasn’t that interested in watching movies or photography anymore.  All he seemed to care about was working out all day and partying all night.  All he would talk about was some stupid stuff he or one of his bros did.

Plus, he told me he switched his major from mechanical engineering to be a personal trainer.  It seemed like he just became a total gym bro overnight.  The studious and witty Nathan that I loved kinda just seemed to be a stereotypical meathead now.  The worst part was that I knew that this was the same Nathan deep down, and he still treated me the same even if he was a lot busier.  I felt like maybe I was the problem since he was clearly still having a good time, and I wasn’t.  Why do I feel this way?

I felt my mood change as we talked.  Eventually, I figured it was time to cut off the conversation and return to the dorm, but Nathan definitely knew something was off.  He texted me later that evening, asking me if everything was alright.  To be honest, I wanted to make some lame excuse that I was feeling sick, but we’ve always been honest with each other, so I told him how I really felt.

Me: Nate, to be honest, I think I need some time away from you.  I don’t hate you or anything, but it feels like we’ve been growing apart and I feel like you’ve become a different person.  I feel like when I look at you, I don’t see the Nathan I’ve known for years, but someone else entirely.

I wanted to say more about how I felt about his new changes, but I didn’t want to escalate things.

Nathan: James, I’m sorry you feel that way about me.  I felt like we had a good time today.  I’ve grown and changed a lot recently, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, but I’m happy with who I am right now.  I know I’m spending a lot of time at the gym or with Brett or my other bros, but I still care about you deeply, bro.  You might be right though.  Hanging out with you isn’t the same as hanging with the guys at the frat.

Me: Do you honestly see yourself as just a frat boy?  You’re more than that.  You’re my best friend.  But now, you have more in common with the jocks from high school than the Nathan I knew.  It’s hard talking to you now since all you care about anymore are your gains and partying.  You’re nothing more than a meathead now.

Nathan: So that’s how you see me, bro?  The reason I had been avoiding you is because I knew that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this.  I guess I was right, bro.  But trust me, I’m happy like this.  I’m a lot more social than when I was when I was with you, and I’ve even become more in shape too.  I care about our friendship more than you can possibly imagine, but I guess this is for the best.  To be honest, I think it would be a lot of fun if you were here in the frat with me, but I know you wouldn’t say yes.

I didn’t bother responding.  I could never picture myself joining a frat.  I would never get along with his frat bro friends, especially Brett, who seemed to be the one he was closest with.  I still couldn’t believe Nate would choose him over me.  I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, or sad, or disappointed towards him.  I felt like he was wasting his life partying when he should be studying.  To think this was the person I cared about more than anyone.  It was at this point that I figured I probably wouldn’t have my old friend back.  Or so I thought.

A couple weeks passed and I tried to move on from Nathan.  I always saw him on his story drinking and partying late into the night at the frat house or posting selfies at the gym.  He looked like he was fully embracing his new frat boy persona now.  If he didn’t still care about me, it would’ve felt like he was doing it out of spite.  As for me, I started to hang out with my classmates more and more, and there was even a guy I went on a date with.  It was a nice date and I did like the guy, but for some reason, the thought of Nathan lingered in my mind.  Even though I hated what he had become, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him.  I couldn’t deny how much he turned me on.  Why was I still thirsting after a stupid fucking frat bro?  One afternoon, after I returned to my dorm, I received a text on my phone.  To my surprise, it was Nathan.

“Hey bro, can we talk?  There are some things I need to get off my chest.”

I didn’t know what he could possibly want with me now.  I suppose I can hear him out just so I can see what he wants.  I went over to his room further down the hall, and thankfully Brett was not here to ruin the moment.  Nate said that he was doing some preparations for some stuff at the frat.  When I asked, he didn’t specify what though.  It always feels like stuff at the frat is kept under wraps.

“Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Even if it’s beer?”  A mischievous grin appeared on his face.  Was he seriously offering me beer?  I knew that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the dorms, but clearly that rule didn’t faze him.  Obviously he knew how to get his hands on some drinks.  To be honest, I had never drank alcohol before, but I figured this would be the easiest way to try it before I turned 21.  Plus, it might alleviate the tension between us.  Either that or make us fight like two drunkards in a bar.

“Sure, why not.”  Nate went to get two bottles for us.  I took my first sip and was disgusted by the bitter taste of the beer.

“You don’t like it?  Neither did I at first,” Nate chuckled.  “After a while, you get used to it.”  Nate turned the TV on as we chatted.  I apologized about what I said about him last time we talked, but he said it was no big deal.  I felt like I was a little too harsh on him.  It could just be the alcohol, but I found that I got along with him better than I did weeks ago.  As we chatted, my body started to tingle.  Was this how it felt like to be drunk?

“Hey, Nate.  I feel kinda weird, but not like drunk weird.  Is this normal, bro?”  I asked.  By this point, we both had two drinks each.  I didn’t mind the taste of the beer the second time.

“Nah, you’re fine bro.”  Nate responded, with a smile on his face.  Compared to me, he appeared to be much more sober.  “It happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to it.”  I figured he knew best, since he was the one drinking and partying all the time, so I ignored this foreign feeling rushing through my body.  I felt as if my body was overheating as I felt my arms and legs throb and pulsate.  Sweat was leaking off my armpits and down my forehead.  There was part of me that knew that something was off, but it was drowned out by the alcohol.  As I took another sip, I felt my arm spasm as I accidentally spilled some beer onto my shirt.  Shit, I wasn’t expecting to do laundry later.

“Damn bro, you made a mess.  You alright?  Do you wanna change your shirt?”  Nate asked.  I nodded and he quickly went to his room to pick out something for me.  It wasn’t the first time I had to wear his clothes.  “Sorry about that, bro.  First thing I found.  Hope it fits you.”  It was a stringer tank with Sigma Lambda Chi on it.  I bet Nate looked like a walking symbol of the frat wearing that stuff.  For some reason, the idea was kinda amusing to me because it seemed so over the top.  I wondered how I would look dressed up like that.  I’d probably look really stupid.

I stripped out of my wet shirt and changed right in front of him.  I caught a whiff from my armpits, and I thought I smelled like a sweaty gym bro.  The tank appeared to be a size up and it hung loosely on me.  Still, it was better than nothing I guess.  Despite that, it had a nice familiar smell to it though.  It smelled like Nathan, but at the same time, it had a different flavor to it.  He smelled a lot more manly than I remembered.  I bet he wore it to the gym often.

Eventually, after my third drink, I went to go to the bathroom.  My body was starting to ache, like I had just done a workout with Nate earlier.  Workout…Was that what happened earlier?  …I think so?  Did we work out after class and come back to his place for some brewskis?  For some reason, the events of today felt incredibly fuzzy to me.  I was starting to forget the reason I was here in the first place.

I clumsily stumbled over my feet which looked bigger than usual.  After I took a piss, I looked at myself in the mirror.  Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I didn’t always look that big, right?  From a first glance, it looked like I was looking through one of those distorted mirrors they have at amusement parks.  I had to have been really drunk at this point.  I chuckled at the figure in front of me.  At this point, I almost looked like one of those frat bros!  I decided to flex my arms like they would, oblivious to the fact that they already grew just a little bit, before joining Nate on the couch.

“There you are, big man!”  he said as he squeezed my muscles.  I have been working out recently, I think.  “I thought you passed out in there.  Most guys don’t last that long for their first time, but you look good enough for another brewski.”

After downing our fourth drinks, the conversation took a different turn.

“Yo, James.  I knew you said you weren’t too big on the idea of joining our frat last time we chatted, but how do you feel now, having thought things over?”

I remembered our last conversation.  Honestly, I was so drunk that I didn’t remember why I turned him down in the first place.  The idea that seemed unappealing to me at the time seemed like it was perfect for me at this moment.  I didn’t even understand why I would be so reluctant to join.  I needed to join more than anything else.  I would do anything to join, even if I had to completely humiliate myself in front of my fellow bros.  At this point, nothing was too extreme for me.  The fact that Nate was in it was enough reason to join, so we could hang out more like we used to.  Plus, I could get to hang out with all my other bros and drink and party whenever we want.

“I’ve given it some thought, and yeah bro, I’ll join,”  my voice slurred as my mouth moved before my mind could.  I had committed at this point.  No backing out now.  I’m a member of Sigma Lambda Chi for life.

“Sweet, bro!”  He grabbed me on my far shoulder and pulled me close.  “I’m glad you said yes, because I have a surprise for you.  Close your eyes, bro.”

I closed my eyes as Nate went into his room to grab something.  Did I actually agree to join his frat?  I’m not sure what’s going on with me today.  When he came back, I felt Nate press on my head as his “surprise” fit tight around it.  “You can open them now.”

I realized I was wearing the same hat that Nate always wore, with his frat’s letters printed on it.  “We’re gonna be matching now, bro.  Isn’t that awesome?  I know you’re gonna want to wear it whenever and wherever.  But you’re wearing it wrong.  Let me fix it for you, dude.”  He turned the brim around so it faced my back.  As my hat turned backwards, I felt my mind fog up and any tension or brain activity screech to a halt.  I was unable to realize what I signed myself up for, unable to protest.  My conscious mind was drowned out by the alcohol and this hat was like a lock, sealing it away.  Not that I was against this, as a wave of pleasure surged through me.  I felt my mind slow down, almost as if it was stuck in molasses, as my thoughts began to simplify. It felt good though...

I would follow the example of my fellow brothers.  Look like them, think like them, act like them.  Almost like a hivemind of bros, you know, bro?  By this point, the changes were irreversible.  Nate had turned me into another frat bro just like him.

“Everything worked out as planned, bro.  You see, when you, my own best bro, told me you didn’t want to join the frat with me, I was actually really hurt.  So I talked to Brett, and had him “work his magic”, to help me do to you what he did to me.  I don’t like to lie to you, but it’s a frat secret, so now you get to know bro.  Like I said, it’s a secret, so don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it bro.  It’s all…uh…

Fuck dude, what’s the word…water under the bridge?  Huhuhu…”  I really had to think about that one.  I found it harder to articulate and use complex words, as I mainly just spoke in bro-speak.  To be honest, I wasn’t really that upset that he lied to me.  He did what he had to as a member of the frat.  I never stayed mad at one of my bros for very long.

“Now we get to be brothers for life,” he said as he gave me a big bro hug.  We clung to each other like two giant masses of muscle.  My huge biceps wrapped around his firm back as his did for me.  Afterwards, he handed me my fifth drink and we cheered to me joining Sigma Lambda Chi.  He laid down all of the rules, what everything was like, telling me about the coolest guys there, and so on.  He said he’d bring me to the frat house and introduce me to everyone tomorrow.  “They’re gonna love you for sure, bro.  I’ve got an eye for cool bros like you.”

As it got later, and we moved on to drink numero 6, I felt myself get very tired as we both passed out on his couch.  I woke up a couple hours later, and I looked out the window to see a pitch black sky.  Shit, it was almost 10 PM and I had to turn in my assignment at midnight.  But for some reason, I didn’t really care right now.  I didn’t mind turning in assignments late as long as the teacher still gave me credit.  I felt no different from the way I was a couple hours ago, just another Sigma Lambda Chi frat bro, but I liked it.  It felt right to me.  It was where I, no, where we belonged.

I looked down.  Nate’s tank hung tightly to me now.  It took me a second to notice my arms…Holy shit, they were fucking huge!  I looked awesome, bro.  As I admired my new body, Nate was still asleep, his hand on my meaty thigh.  Just above that, my dick throbbed through my pants.  Fuck, I was so horny for some reason.  Eventually, Nate slowly regained consciousness.

“I usually don’t drink this much on a school day,” Nate said, still a little hungover as he rubbed his eyes.  We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again.  “By the way, there was another reason I invited you over.  There’s something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

“Go ahead, bro.  I can take it,”  I responded confidently.  My voice sounded deeper and more bro-like than usual, just like him.

“Here goes, dude.  I think I like you, bro.  Not like you, but I think I like like you.  I know it’s hella gay, but I couldn’t stand to see you be so cold to me.  That’s why I had to make you a bro like me.  I’m sure you’ll love it here, bro.  And hey, if you’re not gay, that’s cool.  We can forget this shit ever happened and go back to being bros for life.”

At first, I honestly thought I was still dreaming.  First, he turned me into a frat boy, and now, he was confessing his feelings to me?  How crazier could this night get?  For all my life, I thought he was straight.  I remembered being glad when he broke up with his girlfriend two years back.  I couldn’t stand her.  When he joined Sigma Lambda Chi, I assumed he was 100% straight and that he was banging some sorority chicks every night.  To think he felt the same way I did all this time.

“Bro, I like you too.  When you stopped talking to me, I started to get kinda jealous.  I didn’t want to accept you for who you are.  But being your bro just isn’t enough for me, bro.”  I leaned in for a kiss, my inhibitions still nowhere to be found.  It was my first kiss and it was with the person I cherished most.  I felt like I was in heaven.  I didn’t really care that I was a dumb frat bro like him anymore.  I never did.  That shit was stupid anyways.  But now, Nate fixed our friendship and made us closer than ever.  I loved the taste of his lips against mine and I didn’t want it to end but eventually Nate parted our lips.

“Wanna fuck me, bro?”  he whispered in my ear.  A flirtatious smirk was plastered on his face, and one of his hands was still wrapped around my neck.  This was real.  I nodded as he took me to his bed.  I had never done this before, but I’ve seen plenty of porn, so I knew what to expect.  He laid down on his back and stripped naked.  I never felt this aroused before.  My dick even looked bigger than it used to be.  I was so pent up that I felt like I was holding this load in for months.  I guess frat bros really are as horny as they say.  I lubed up my larger cock before sticking it into Nate’s hole.

My serpent stretched out his tight hole as he had clearly not seen much action down there until now.  I pounded his ass as my dick went in and out of him.  In and out, in and out, in and out…It was a steady rhythm, my dick was like a metronome.  My hands clung to him as I held him in place, pinning him to his bed.  My hands ran all over his shoulders, broad and muscular, built like a football player’s.  We both felt absolutely euphoric as our deep, masculine moans filled the room.  The moans were loud enough that the students on the other side of the wall could easily hear them, but I didn’t care about any noise complaints as I fucked him harder and harder.  After half an hour of fucking, he both hit our orgasm at almost exactly the same time.  I ejaculated inside his tight hole, my hot, sticky seed flooding his insides as Nate came all over his abs.  At this point I was exhausted and still hungover and I basically fell on top of him on his bed.  We were both panting and out of breath.

“I knew you were a good fucker, bro.”  he whispered seductively as he kissed me.  We stayed in that position for several minutes until we heard the door open.

“Yo, Nate!  Did you do it?  How did it go?”  a voice asked, shouting loudly from the other room.  I recognized the voice as Brett’s.  He peeked into the room, witnessing the two of us cuddling together naked.  To be honest, I thought he would’ve been grossed out.  Guess I had the wrong idea about him.

“Better than expected, dude,” Nate responded.  He didn’t seem to care that we were both naked in front of his roommate and that we just got back from our trip to Pound Town.

“He looks way better this way, don’t you agree, bro?  But man, dude, now I know why you wanted him to be a pledge so bad.  I was wondering why you wouldn’t fuck any of those sexy sorority babes.  More for me, I guess.”

A week passed and by then, I joined the frat officially.  Me and Nate started dating shortly after, but none of our bros minded.  It didn’t matter if we were gay, we were still brothers.  I also learned how Nate met Brett.  He was taking a tour of the campus over the summer and he ran into Brett who was recruiting people for the frat.  Brett took a liking to him and kinda took him under his wing like some sort of mentor and they started hanging out since he only lived a town away from us.  Brett was our age, but he had more seniority and authority because his older brother Brad was very popular within the frat.  Turns out Brett and some of the upperclassmen knew how to turn guys into the ideal bros for their frat.  They wanted to bolster their numbers to make Sigma Lambda Chi the biggest and coolest frat in the state, with the biggest bros and the biggest parties, and naturally both me and Nate were chosen.  Not that either of us minded.  Nate joined the football team with Brett and some other guys in the frat, and the rest of us would go watch them play every game.  Our section of the stadium was always the loudest and rowdiest, especially when one of our bros scored a touchdown.

Apparently I grew a ton during the night that I was with Nate, but I was too drunk to notice just how massive I had become.  It must’ve been something in the beer, huhu.  I started working out with Nate and Brett, and sometimes some other bros too.  I even ended up changing my major.  I chose business because my bros said that it was the easiest shit ever and I wasn’t feeling psychology anymore.  I didn’t really feel like thinking much anymore and I found that focusing on education so much was a chore and that I was wasting my college experience.  I’d rather be partying and drinking or hanging out with the bros at the frat house, watching sports, playing video games, or playing ball outside.  I got to see why Nate grew to enjoy this lifestyle so much, and I was mad at myself for not seeing his point of view sooner.

Three years later, me and Nate are still dating and we’re set to graduate this semester.  We’re thinking about getting a place in the city not too far from campus, probably with Brett and another friend of ours to save money on rent.  We’ll probably still throw parties every weekend like we used to.  College was such a memorable experience and I wish I could live it again.  I only have Nate, Brett, and all my other bros to thank for making college awesome for me.

any frat guys here? dm me

You guys are filthy! You are not coming in the house until you're clean. Dad said as he sprayed the young men down with the hose.