I Always Wanted to be a Frat Rat
published June 26, 2019
Jacob invents a world-changing raygun. His roommate has some fun with it.
It’s not like I was a total loser in high school. I was on student council, lettered in debate, I was even second string on the track team. But somehow I never felt like anything other than an absolute nerd. I craved belonging – I guess every teenager does – but I never found it.
I was sure that going to college was going to change all that. It’s a clean slate, you know? You’ve heard freshmen say that kind of crap. But here I am, just one year away from graduation, still feeling like a total nerd. Sure, I had friends, but do you really count the guys you know from chess club?
I’d tried. Really, I had. When I first got to school I hung out at dorm mixers. I played intramural frisbee. Even rushed a frat. But all that got me was a reputation as someone who tried hard. More than anything, I felt like an object of pity.
Until Jake and I made our own frat.
Jacob was this friend of mine. One of the chess club guys. He also had the bonus of being my roommate. Five foot six inches, skinny as hell. He still buys his T-shirts from the teen boys section.
I like to tell the story like we built the frat together, but really, he just invented the raygun. Jacob was a biochem major with a physics minor, and he’d invented this little raygun that somehow made the structure of reality breakdown and reform itself according to someone’s instructions.
Don’t ask him how it works. The only science Jake does now is counting his reps. And sometimes he fucks that up.
Jacob first showed me the raygun in his mentors lab, bragging about its potential to cure disease or help people get over trauma. He told me it was a surprise for his prof, and that he’d be presenting on it later that day. He was certain that Professor Mulligan was going to get a kick out of it, and that he was going to get a Nobel Prize.
“Can I see it?” I asked, an impulse taking over.
Jacob handed it to me. It felt light in my hand. The 3D printed plastic casing felt more like a childs toy than a world changing invention.
I pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger. A weird pink glow enveloped Jacob.
“You have a deep voice,” I said.
“Hey,” he said in this impossibly deep and sexy voice. “It’s not a toy!” I couldn’t believe those sounds were coming out of my twinky friends mouth. He sounded like a total stud.
I pressed the trigger again. “You’re five foot eight and 180 pounds,” I said.
“Hey, that’s not fuuuuuuuu…” Jacob roared in that newly sexed up voice of his. In a matter of seconds, reality rewrote itself and Jacob’s body bloomed. His chest went from a sunken wish to a rock hard reality. His biceps showed clearly against the now constricting fabric of his shirt. And his pants looked like they were ready to give way any moment.
Just to finish it off, two buttons popped off the top of his button down shirt. Jacob literally had the kind of body that clothes couldn’t hold back. But still, it was wrong… I gave the trigger another squeeze.
“You only dress in gym clothes,” I said. “You really care about your brands.”
His clothes seemed to shift instantly, like they had just always been that way. Instead of a generic blue dress shirt, khaki pants, and an uncomfortable looking pair of dress shoes, Jacob was dressed… differently.
To start with, his muscled body was packed into a highlighter yellow tank and some steely grey basketball shorts. You could see every curve and line of his magically gained physique. The way that his rounded pecs pushed out meant that the fabric just sort of hung down over his abs. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
But the thick hair peering out from under the tank wasn’t. So I pressed the trigger again. As long as I was modifying Jacob, I may as well make him the best of the best.
“You’re completely hairless below your beard.”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t love my fuckin’ Under Armor,” he said motioning at the giant logo on the front of his tank, sweeping his hand past the more subtle logo on his baller shorts, and pointing down at his bright red training shoes. “But this is ridiculous, you can’t just change me into some dumbass looking jock!”
He was looking more and more like some dumbass jock. His smooth skin meant that the bright clothing clung to his pecs, clearly exposing his nipples through the thin fabric. The only thing ruining it now was the indignant look on his face.
“Sure I can,” I said. And then I pressed the trigger again.
“You’re dumb as shit,” I said.
Jacob squeezed his eyes together tightly, like he was trying to keep some of that intelligence bottled up inside his thick skull. When they fluttered open a moment later, all trace of brainpower was gone. He looked innocent and open, like he was just stoked to be here.
“Whoa, that was fuckin’ intense bro,” Jake said. “Like I…” he trailed off, forgetting what he was upset about in the first place.
“Just a couple more changes,” I said. “Then you’re gonna be perfect for our new frat.”
“Seriously bro? A frat? Awesome!” Jake fistpumped.
I squeezed the trigger again. “You’re into dudes and not into ladies.”
This time Jake didn’t put up a fight. Instead, I watched as his 6 inch rod hardened and tented out his UA shorts. I could clearly see the shape of his cockhead outlined against the shiny fabric. Maybe Jacob had been going commando… but more likely Jake was just a commando kind of guy.
“One more,” I said, and squeezed the trigger.
“You love the new you.”
“Haha, duh,” Jake said. “Check this shit out bro, who wouldn’t love this?”
I grinned, and I watched him run through a series of poses, showing off his thick pecs, his powerful arms, even his striated back. And through all of it, that dumbass look of pride at what he hadn’t even earned.
He looked down, suddenly realizing that his cock needed attention.
“You wanna suck that bro?” he asked, like he was pointing out a chore I’d forgotten.
I slipped the safety on the gun to the ‘safe’ position and slipped it into my backpack. There was a lot of work to do, but it could wait until after I’d helped a buddy out.
“Mmmm… yeah,” he moaned, spreading his arms for a double bicep post. “Check out this shit… you gotta love it bro…”
I woke up in the middle of the night. There was someone else in my room, over by my desk.
“Hello,” I called out. I was sleepy. I was stupid. I didn’t realize.
I flipped on the light. There was Jake, rummaging through my bookbag.
“There it is,” he said, pulling out the plastic raygun I had used on him only hours earlier.
“You’re gonna love this shit bro,” he said. And then he fired the gun at me.
“Stay still,” he said. “Like you can stand up, but don’t rush me or nothin’.”
And just like that, no matter how much I wanted to tackle my frat bro roommate, I found myself rising to my feet and just chilling out there. It was cold in the room, the window was open, and I was shivering in just my boxers.
“Please, Jake, don’t…” I begged.
“You have a deep voice,” he said.
I didn’t say anything back. Maybe if I didn’t say anything, the dumbass wouldn’t keep going. Maybe he’d think it was a toy or something. Maybe he wouldn’t remember what I’d done to him.
Cold sweat broke over my forehead. Maybe he’d remember exactly what I had done to him.
“You’re five feet tall, and 150 lbs.”
“FUUUUUCCCCK!” I yelled in my thick new voice. Anyone listening outside the window probably thought my boyfriend was railing my ass or something. The pain was incredible. It was like every bone broke and healed at once, like every gym session was happening at the same time, and like the worst growing pain you ever had. Except this time it was shrinking pain - I dropped eight inches in only seconds, and I packed on another ten pounds. On my ridiculous new frame, I didn’t look like I was second string on the track team anymore. I was built like a brick shithouse.
“You only wear workout shit,” he said. “Pick your brand fucker.”
My mind was racing. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins. And all I could think was that maybe if I didn’t pick a brand, maybe the instruction wouldn’t take hold. Just don’t think about Nike. Don’t think about Nike.
There was a prickling on my chest. I looked down my solid square pecs. There was a distinctive checkmark on the left pec.
And moments later I was bound in my new clothes. A pair of Nike boxer briefs cradled my cock and balls. I was shirtless and shortless, but my feet were warm in a pair of ankle socks. You can probably guess the brand.
I felt weirdly proud. Repping my brand. These clothes were amazing. Memories came flooding in, just like they were real. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t wanted to Just DO IT.
“Hey man,” I said, self conscious of my deep voice. “Just hold it, okay? We’re bros. Just hang out and have a beer with me. Put down the gun.”
“Your hairy as fuck bro,” he said.
In contrast to his smooth body, mine immediately burst out with a forest of hair. I could barely see my tat under the matted brown sweater I found myself wearing. I reached down to scratch my balls… with all this hair, I’m always itchy. And when I looked down at my legs, my long brown hair covered my eyes completely. I knew instinctively that I was going to have to tie it back when I worked out.
“Look, we can still work this out…” I said lamely, though it sounded powerful coming from this body.
“Smart words,” he said. “But you’re even dumber then me,” he said. “But you got the confidence bro.”
I dunno how to describe it. It was like I was benching too heavy, and I could just like feel my brain struggling against the sudden weight. I was trembling, trying to keep it off me. Trying not to let it win. Just one more rep bro, just one more….”
It landed. Felt like my whole fuckin’ skull burst open. And after? Well, I don’t gotta care about after.
With a thick cock like this, who needs thinkin’, right?
“Last change bro. You love the new you. Now go check yourself out.”
I pushed back Jake into the hallway, headed for the bathroom of our two bedroom apartment. I posed in the mirror, admiring myself from every angle. I was a total fucker. A total stud. Nothin’ but a mans man. I tugged at my eight inches through my Nike boxer briefs.
I was horny as fuck.
Turns out Jake squeals when you fuck him.
Jake figured it out for us. If we were gonna have a frat, we were gonna need a frathouse. Dude’s like a fuckin’ super genius, seriously.
So we put the gun into my backpack. After all, only fair. I’m a natural born leader. And next thing you know, Jake’s got us looking at this bomber old house about a half mile from the school gates. It’s big and it’s brick and it makes me think about the kind of wild keggers I wanted to throw.
The guy showing us the house was this old dude, maybe like 35 or so. And get this, his name was Chad. I don’t think he really trusted us with the house, but when I heard his name, I knew he was really just a bro like us underneath. So when we were checking out the master bedroom upstairs, I pulled out my raygun and pulled the trigger.
“Hey Chad, don’t move.”
Hey guys - Derek here. Lots of places this story can go. Feel free to add your own chapter.