Pledge Week Antics
A college freshmen pledges to a fraternity and undergoes a week of antics …
It was a stupid dare, the typical, mindless claptrap that fraternities did to weed out the ‘unworthy’. On my campus, Kappa Omicron Kappa was the university’s golden child. It obeyed university policy (or at least, did not get caught violating policy) and rarely gave the university any bad press. On the contrary, its charity work with ‘Big Brothers/Big Sisters’ provided the university with good frat press. It enjoyed its position as the oldest fraternity on campus, housed in a 60-bed dormitory that featured a Victorian-façade.
Fall Pledge Week started pretty simple. Day 1 required pledges to wear pink thong underwear but to make sure that people could see the thong. I wore a pair of sweats that hung low to my hips. Honeys on campus loved the show. Day 3 involved a dinner of foods that I normally would never eat: tripe, pigs’ feet, chitlins and some Asian delicacy called ‘shirako’. I later found out it was fish sperm, which explained why everyone laughed when the pledges described the taste as ‘creamy’.
Day 5 had all the originality of a Spiderman remake. The pledges were taken to an abandoned farm house, thirty minutes away from campus. Naked, the pledge was expected to spend the night. We were provided a sleeping bag and a cooler of bottled water and Gatorade. If we ‘survived’ the night, we advanced to Pledge-Admitted status, granting resident status for the second semester. On the drive to the abandoned farm house, the fraternity leadership regaled the pledges with a story of the murder of the owner of the farm house, a former member of the fraternity, back in the 40s.
For me, the ‘challenge’ presented no challenge for me. I sleep in the buff every night, albeit, rarely alone. I am the typical ‘boy next door’. I have that cute face, sandy brown hair, sweet eyes, and a nice body maintained with a healthy diet and dad’s membership to a national-chain gym with locations near the campus. My laidback demeanor attracted females on campus. Of course, 9” and a summer schooled in the art of sex by the milfy next-door neighbor at my father’s beach house keeps the attracted females in my bed. I’m very honest with the girls who grace my bed. I tell them that I’m not looking for a relationship, but that I’m there for a good time. If the girls want to roll, then my bed is open.
I’m a Freshmen. I fuck Seniors, Juniors, Sophomores, Freshmen. I’m so laid back with the girls that they never feel threatened or put-off. I’m always complimentary and positive. Not to brag, but I probably give these women (especially these Freshmen girls away from their mommies and daddies for the first time) their first taste of pleasurable orgasmic sex. I remember my senior high school sex: slide cock in pussy, hump and wait for cum to shoot into my condom – rinse and repeat, if necessary. My partners in high school may have enjoyed the sex act, but I’m sure I had little to do with it. In college, armed with my summer sex school degree, I had the power to make eyes roll and bodies tremble. I can’t explain the feeling I enjoyed knowing that I could make another person experience pleasure to that degree. I owed my success to that next-door milf who taught me a wealth of practical bedroom knowledge.
We arrived at the farm house around 6pm. The sun had already set and the darkness of mid-November in the Northeast cast an eerie silence upon the farm house set back on an expansive acreage. We were ten pledges ready to take the challenge. Once we drove down the dusty driveway and reached the house, the pledge master/president of the frat hopped out of the truck and stood on the porch. He activated a switch, a master control that washed the front of the house with a strong white light. Stepping out of the pick-up truck and standing in the front yard in relative darkness, I had not noticed the portable flood lights.
“Gentlemen, it’s time to enter the house. Remove your clothes. One of the seniors will collect your belongings and place them in a plastic garbage bag with your name on the bag.” I shook my head and smiled. “Pledge Alex, is there a problem?”
“No, Pledge Master. No problem at all.”, I replied. I wiped the smile from my face. Apparently, this was serious business. I removed all my clothes. I had only my leather credit card holder that had $20 tucked away. I also left the cell phone in my dorm room, as instructed by the pledge master. In about five minutes, ten naked freshmen stood in the front yard of the farm house, flooded by white light, standing as we did, cupping our junk.
“Now, gentlemen, should you fail to spend the night, we will be here waiting for you. Upon your exit from the front door of the house, the sergeant-at-arms will hand you a pair of white silk panties. You will then be given a sign that reads ‘I am a pussy. I couldn’t last the night.’ Photographs taken of you wearing your silk panties holding the sign will be posted on the fraternity’s social media accounts.”
I shook my head. “Typical frat boy bullshit!”, I thought to myself. I truly did not care about the photographs. The thought of silk on my cock actually titillated me.
“Are you ready, pledges?”, the pledge master shouted.
“Yes, pledge master.”, we replied, like troops ready for battle.
The pledge master opened the door of the abandoned farm house and bid us enter the house. I walked through the threshold of the home. Except for the dust and filth of an abandoned house, I did not see anything out of the ordinary, no blood stains or evidence of a murder. I walked into the main foyer of the home. Despite the darkness of the house, the outdoor lights flooded the hallway and front rooms of the home. (To see Alex, click here).
For whatever reason, no one wanted to go upstairs. For now, I would go with the flow. I walked into what would have been the front parlor and found the sleeping bags. Lining the parlor on one wall was a bookcase lined with dusty books that have not been touched in years. No phone, no radio, no TV. There was only one thing to do to pass the time: read a book, the lost art. I found a Dickens novel that I fake-read in high school and decided to give it a true read.
“What are you doing?”, a voice called.
I turned around from the wall of books and said, “I’m choosing a book to read.”
“What for?”, the voice said.
“Craig, what are we going to do for twelve hours? Jerk off?”, I said. Craig stared at me and said, “We have to do something to pass the time.”
“Aren’t you a bit worried about staying …”, Craig whined.
“Craig, frats got the memo. Nothing that puts people in harm. Embarrassing pics on the internet are harmless, until you start job hunting. No. I’m not worried. I’m just a little cold.”, I preached.
The others walked into the parlor and decided to join the book club. Some grabbed a sleeping bag and walked into adjacent rooms. Jeff and Kyle settled in the kitchen, as if we did not know what would soon be cooking. They were not the most subtle ‘in the closet’ couple pledging a frat.
For about four hours, I sat on the parlor floor, leaning against the rolled-up sleeping bag, reading my book. From time to time, I took a stroll around the first floor of the house. When I had to urinate, I walked onto the back porch and took a leak in the bushes. I assumed that the bathroom of an abandoned farmhouse did not have running water.
Around 11pm, I heard a whispered voice. “Alex. Alex.” When I opened my eyes, I found Craig leaning over. “I heard a noise.”, Craig said.
“It must have been the wind.”, I said.
“It was a moan.”, Craig answered.
“That was Jeff and Kyle.”, I replied.
“That’s not funny, Alex. It was a wail, like …”, Craig answered back, angrily.
“Like a ghost.”, I said, faking a Bella Lugosi-type of voice impersonation.
“It came from upstairs.”, Craig said.
“Of course, it did.”, I said. I rose to my feet. “Now, in scene 22, the youngsters begin to explore the haunted house and get killed one-by-one in a gruesome spectacle that will take three sequels to resolve.”, I said in a sarcastic, annoyed tone. I shook my head in disbelief. Craig is my age, 19, and yet, he is so naïve and child-like. My parents never raised me like that.
In order to silence Craig, I headed up the stairs to the second floor. I carried my sleeping bag with me. I was hoping to find a back bedroom that was not bombarded by the front yard lights to catch some z’s in relative darkness.
As I walked up the creaky stairs, I smelled an odd scent. It was sweet, like vanilla and caramel. As I reached the top of the landing, the scent grew stronger. I dropped the sleeping bag to the floor and walked into one of the back bedrooms. As I stepped in the bedroom, the smell of vanilla and caramel overwhelmed me. I walked around the room.
And, then, I saw an image. The lights from the front of the house had infiltrated the rear bedroom. The light cast an eerie glow upon the naked frame of a man, his body tanned and sculpted. It appeared wet, but that had to be an illusion of the shadows of light. His member dangled to mid-thigh, flaccid, but not dead. (To see the naked man, click here).
“Who are you?”, the naked man asked.
“I’m … Alex.”, I answered. I was stunned, scared, and shocked.
“Did you come to kill me?”, the naked man asked.
“I’m a Kappa Omicron pledge.”, I answered. I did not know what to say. The question made no sense. And then, it dawned on me. Was this the tortured soul of the man murdered in the house. “Why would I want to kill you?”, I asked.
“Because … I’m different.”, the naked man said.
I did not understand his meaning. Before I could ask him a question, the naked man stepped out of the shadows, knelt before me, and swallowed my member. I tried to pull my cock out of his mouth, but it would not release. The naked man locked his mouth and tongue on my cock and sucked a load of cum in a matter of seconds. I howled when I climaxed. When I caught my breath, I said, “Why did you do that?”
The naked man did not reply. His lips remained wrapped around my cock. He wiggled his tongue. I writhed as my dick head was so sensitive after orgasm. I tried to pull my cock of his mouth, but the naked would not release. I stared into his eyes. The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He wanted cock. He wanted my cock.
“Are you okay?”, Craig called out.
I turned to face Craig and shouted, “Go. Go. Now.”
Before Craig could escape, the naked man extended his arm, like a rubber toy, grabbed Craig and seized him, forcing him to stand next to me. He opened his mouth and swallowed Craig’s cock as well as mine.
Craig stared at me and said, “What the fuck!”
“Wait till you cum.”, I warned.
“What did you say … aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”, Craig shouted.
I answered Craig with my own moan of climax. The naked man smiled. “I love Kappa Omicron Kappa.” For the first time, I realized that the Greek letters spelled ‘KOK’. Of course, the naked man loved ‘KOK’, because he loved ‘cock’. The naked man stared into my eyes. “How many are you in my house?”
“Eight others.”, I answered.
The naked man smiled. “Excellent. Alex, call the others.”
I stepped out of the bedroom and shouted, “Guys! Come upstairs.”
When I returned to the bedroom, the naked man was face-fucking Craig. “Come here and kneel.” I darted out of the bedroom, but suddenly, stopped in my tracks and returned to the bedroom. I knelt before the naked man and licked his cock. “From now on, you’ll be different, too.”
I stared into the naked man’s eyes. I suddenly realized why the naked man was murdered: he was gay – he was different, to use the parlance of the 40s. And now, his ghostly soul roamed his abandoned home converting trespassers, making them ‘different’. Craig and I fellated the naked man for what seemed an eternity. Finally, the naked man wailed and moaned, “Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!”, as he shot his load down my throat. I gazed into the naked man’s eyes, as vanilla and caramel-flavored jizz slithered down my throat. I tried to smile, but the naked man’s cock was still buried down my throat. The naked man pulled his cock out of my mouth, dropped anchor in Craig’s mouth and shot a load for Craig.
I don’t know what time I fell asleep. By morning, I know that I had sucked everyone’s cock at least once, including the naked man. By morning, all my pledge brothers had sucked my cock. I didn’t think I had that much cum in me, but I shot load after load after load. Every orgasm intensified until I attained my new consciousness. I was ‘different’.
At daybreak, we walked out the front door of the farm house. The pledge master and the senior members of the frat stood in amazement and disappointment. There would be no silk panties-wearing pics this year for KOK.
The seniors handed our garbage bags with our belongings and bid us to get dressed. As I donned my clothes, I looked up at the window and saw the image of the naked man, staring at his new recruits, smiling at his converts.
We had entered as novice pledges. We left as new men. We were the same, and yet, we were ‘different’.