Chris Donaldson Ch. 05

"Like this? See, I'm not looking at you . . . bro."

Justin smiled. "You're a dipshit."

Chris took that as a signal that he could finally get his mouth on Justin's massive cock, which he had been craving for more than 24 hours now. He sucked steadily and expertly, flicking his tongue on the underside of the stud's dickhead, firmly lapping the covered glans, then swallowing the massive meat to the base. Justin moaned.

Chris brought him close to the edge, and then stopped.

Justin whimpered and tried to force him to continue, but Chris avoided his grasping hands and looked up at his roommate mischievously.

"So what do you think? I think I should accept the invitation."

"You fucker," Justin groaned, but not without amusement.

Chris rubbed Justin's shaft lightly with his fingers. "So it's a yes?"

"UUUGGGH, yesss!!" Justin finally caught Chris' head and shoved it down on his aching dick, and immediately began to spew. It was a huge load. Chris swallowed every drop, and leaned back on his heels, smiling smugly.

"Once the brothers find out how good I am, they'll let me in for sure."

Justin looked at him, the post-orgasm euphoria disappearing quickly.

"That's not the way to rush a fraternity, Chris. I'm not kidding."

"I know, I'm just teasing you."

"I mean it, Chris." Justin skipped the usual pet names to underline the fact he was serious. "If you really want to get a bid, and make it as a pledge, you cannot let anyone know what you do for me. They're great guys, but no one respects a cocksucker." Justin headed to the bathroom in silence, letting the point sink in.

Chris stood up, feeling like an ass. Of course, Justin was right.

But I'm more than just a cocksucker. I'm more than just a submissive. I can do this.

After his shower, Chris packed up his laptop and headed downtown in the cool March sunshine to the coffeehouse. He wasn't meeting Mark for another couple of hours, but he could use the time to do some sleuthing on his future brothers. If he was going to take Mason up on his invitation, he was not going to half-ass it. The research proved remarkably easy, between the university's own website and various social media platforms. SAE was made up mostly of Political Science, Economics, and International Studies majors. If he made it in, he would be the only history major. Most of the guys already had LinkedIn profiles, and pretty impressive internships and jobs listed. On the more reputable online sites, there was a very adult feel to the place - Chris pictured them all moving on to get MBAs, or going to law school.

The seamier side of social media revealed, surprisingly, nothing. These guys were good at keeping their noses clean. There were no pics of drunken parties he could find, not even shirtless pics at football games. No, it was all very disciplined, like there was some sort of marketing effort for the organization, some kind of policy about what they were allowed to post. Sports shots were always appropriately virile and clothed. Other pictures revealed conservatively-dressed young men who looked a lot alike. There was one token black guy, who seemed to make it into a disproportionate number of photographs. No Asians. No Latinos. Chris began memorizing their names, majors where he could find them, and other information like home towns. He would not reveal that he had been stalking them; no, this was an effort to remember the things they would eventually tell him more easily, because he would already know a little of it, and have memory pegs on which to put new information.

Chris was so absorbed in his research that he didn't hear Mark come up behind him.

"Hey, Chris."

Chris' heart fluttered. He had forgotten that in addition to a very hot body, Mark also had a very hot, sexy, deep voice. When he had called Chris "boy", it had never failed to produce a hardon.

Chris stood up to shake hands. He was again bowled over, this time by the incredibly vivid blue eyes. "How's it going? Great to see you." He didn't want to call him Sir, but there was no way he could call him Mark, either.

"You need a refill on your coffee? I'm going to get a latte."

"Sure, that would be great." Chris quickly closed all of the windows on his laptop, wondering if Mark had seen the screen full of hot frat boys. Well, he'd hardly be surprised.

Mark ambled over with the two drinks, a friendly smile on his face.

"It's really nice to see you again, kiddo."

Chris grinned. "You too." He was taken aback at how turned on, energized, and safe he felt basking in Mark's warm presence. There was a magnetism here as well, of a different type than Justin's. Chris had forgotten how much he liked it.

"So what have you been up to, Chris?"

"Just school, really."

"That's all?" Mark teased.

"Yeah, more or less." Chris was loath to reveal his obsession with his roommate to Mark. That all suddenly felt . . . tawdry. Unsophisticated.

"A cutie like you ought to be getting laid." Damn it, man, why did you go there so fast? You were all set to be casual, and then when you lay eyes on this kid you start acting like . . . like a guy his age, Mark thought wryly.

Chris blushed.

"Aha! There's something you're not telling me." Mark was caught between jealousy, horniness and amusement.

Chris looked intently at his coffee.

"Who have you been fucking? That guy who whipped your ass?"

Chris looked up suddenly at Mark. "Jesus, lower your voice. No! That guy is an asshole. Although . . ."

"Although what?"

Chris spilled it. "He just asked me to join his fraternity."

Mark chuckled. Oh, the college drama. Thank God he wasn't doing THAT anymore. So much angst, so many hormones. In a way it was worse than high school, because everyone was more practiced at torturing their peers, and there was no parental supervision. No one becomes an adult in a frat, he thought. Ten years later, if they're lucky. He half-listened to Chris' story about rushing.

"Wait, your roommate is in the same frat?"

"Yeah."

"And . . . does he whip your ass too?"

"No. Not with a belt anyway."

Mark laughed out loud.

"You fucking slut," he burst out before he could stop himself. "And I thought you were a poor little virgin needing to be saved."

"I was a virgin! You're still the only person who . . ." Chris lowered his voice. ". . . has ever fucked me."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Sounds like it won't be for long, kiddo. You're already getting spankings from a bunch of guys, and Lord knows who you're blowing." He smiled, not wanting to be a too hard on the kid. "It's cool, you're young! You should be having fun."

Chris was humiliated and mortified. Mark thought he was just a college whore . . . like Mason had said he was. He had been so happy to see the 27-year-old marketing executive again, and desperately wanted his respect, especially after being ignored for so long.

"Don't look so offended. I mean it! I wish I'd had a roommate to mess around with when I was in college. Not to mention join his frat. You'll have more dick than even you can handle, kiddo." Mark reached over and rubbed Chris' arm, winking at the boy.

"I'm sorry I didn't meet your expectations," Chris said in a dull voice.

"Aw, don't be like that, Chris. I didn't have any expectations. We had an amazing time! I'm flattered I was your first, and I know I won't be your last. You should squeeze all the fun you can out of your college years. And all the cum out of those frat boys, too." Mark grinned.

"Yup. I gotta run, man."

Mark grabbed his arm. "Lighten up, Chris. You're 19. You're supposed to be a horny fuck."

But for a whole month, thought Chris, I thought I was going to sublimate all that horniness into worshipping you. I thought you were going to lift me out of all this shit. "Well, good, cuz I am a horny fuck," he replied.

Chris packed up his computer and stood up. "It was really great seeing you again. Hit me up online any time. I'm always available." Chris turned and left the coffeehouse.

Mark sighed. This was not what he'd been thinking when he texted the boy last night. He'd been thinking they'd have a nice talk, Chris would be dorky and charming, and maybe . . . there would be some more ass on offer. But the kid is too young, he thought. Let it go. Also, you only think of him as a trick, and he realizes that. He's looking for more. Remember the frittata?

Mark winced. That had been the sweetest gesture ever, and he had behaved like a total prick. As he had just now. He stared at Chris' quickly vanishing backside as it hurried down the street. Damn. Maybe it's my loss, not his.

********************

Chris had not been anticipating quite so much nudity.

He was in his second week as a Sigma Alpha Epsilon pledge. He had surprised Justin, Mason, and most of all himself by passing the first event with flying colors. Billed as a casual get-together, it was of course a proving ground for prospectives. It was spring, so there were fewer potential candidates; most guys rushed in the fall. Chris had excelled at the afternoon party, talking with nearly every active member who was there, and carefully modulating his speech and mannerisms so that he would appear straight, just like he mostly had in high school.

"Dude, you rocked it!" was Justin's verdict afterwards in their room, as Chris had given him a celebratory blowjob. Chris was allowed extra Vaseline that night, and Justin's musky ass in his face.

There had been more rush events that week, and at each, Chris had demonstrated his ability to be one of the guys. He found it wearing, but had his own end game: Justin's love. Eventually. This was the best way.

He had received his bid, and had managed to come up with the requisite dues, much to Mason's surprise, who had pegged Chris for solidly middle class, and not up to SAE's financial standards. Chris had simply withdrawn from his mother's legacy to him; it wasn't huge, but enough to cover the initial fees and his obligations through the pledge period. It would run out, of course, but not until he was a senior, at which point he would certainly have found some kind of work to cover it. Probably a gig at a financial firm or something; his future brothers would hook him up.

Justin and Mason had both been impressed with Chris' ability to hold his own in this new environment. They both knew him only as an obedient submissive; they had never met his more public persona. Justin had suspected that Chris was actually very put together in real life, and it made him more boned for his roommate than ever. Boned and proud. Mason had not suspected Chris had any of this in him, and it made him want to take the boy down.

For Chris' part, the most incredible part of pledging had not been his own mostly positive reception, but the opportunity to observe Justin in his element. To be clear, Chris had thought his roommate was hot from the first instant he laid eyes on him. He had witnessed the jock's charisma firsthand, and its good and bad sides; succumbing to that animal magnetism had given him constant sex, but it had also laid him flat on his back, panting for breath after being beaten up. But here, in the frat, Justin seemed . . . so happy. So at home. He clearly enjoyed being an instigator, a character, but also a uniter. Chris saw immediately why the fraternity had embraced his roommate. Justin's happy-go-lucky demeanor endeared him to all the brothers, and his ability to consume any amount of alcohol without passing out garnered their respect.

And Chris noticed something interesting. When Justin drank with the brothers, he never got mad. That correlated with his behavior back in their dorm room. When Justin came back from the fraternity, he had always wanted service, but had been fairly genial about it. The violent episodes had always corresponded to Justin's nights with his girlfriend.

Seeing him in this context only renewed Chris' devotion to his Dom, and made him want to fit in with SAE even more. Sometimes Chris was jealous of how well-liked Justin was at the house, but he didn't see any evidence that another brother had access to the fat, uncut dick he loved so much. So it all seemed ok.

But now, shit was getting real. Pledging had turned out to be very time-consuming; it had also turned out to involve long periods in various states of undress. There had been lots and lots of shirtless pushups while brothers watched; more shirtless pushups with another pledge sitting on your back; shirtless pushups where you had to kiss a brother's shoe at the bottom of each one - those had been hot, and Chris had struggled not to reveal his woody. That might be the only advantage there was to having a dick this small, Chris had thought. And of course, there was the constant threat that you could be cut at any time if you failed to meet expectations.

Tonight was a new frontier; for the first time the pledges were all totally naked, and had been for more than an hour now, mostly standing at attention with their hands clasped behind their backs or behind their heads. No hands were permitted in front of their junk. Everything was on display. They had all had to bend over and hold their ass cheeks apart too, while Chas, the pledge master, inspected them and slapped their asses a few times. There was a lot of teasing about the state of their dicks; Chris was not the only one who had chubbed out a bit, but this night had been sheer torture for him, so terrified was he of revealing that he was attracted to guys.

It was a small pledge class. There were only eight of them, and they had all been at least a little nervous at stripping down all the way in this context; it was different than a locker room. Of the eight, five were regular jocks who had played varsity sports in high school. SAE rarely accepted active collegiate athletes in this chapter, but rather excelled in intramural events against the other frats. Two more were athletic, but also debater types with a penchant for political argument. They fit in well with the Young Republicans in the house, of whom there were many. And then there was Chris. He was very familiar with the inside of a gym, and had nothing to apologize for to a normal observer in terms of his physique; he was wonderfully proportionate, and there was no fat on his 19-year-old frame. But he always felt incredibly self-conscious among his better-built peers; he was also the second-shortest of the pledges, at 5'8".

And tonight, a Saturday night which was proving to be the intense apex of the weekend, that self-consciousness had increased a hundredfold. The order to strip everything off had come as soon as they were gathered. Much posturing, blustering and feigned reluctance had ensued; and then, just as Chris had feared, there had been an assessment of the pledges' . . . assets. Both soft and hard. Flaccid and erect. There had been a big show of notating each one's endowment, and much hooting and joking about the competition. It had perhaps been a contest for first place; it was not a contest for last. Josh and Keith had been measured several times, and each one was right around 8.5" hard; Keith had eventually won, on the third try. His cut dick jutted out proudly, completely shaved. Soft, though, Josh had won hands down. Josh had the rare natural bush, and was a shower, not a grower. They both got a prize: a Fleshlight, which they of course claimed they would never have occasion to use, they were getting so much pussy. More hilarity. Bryce, Chandler, and Cooper were all bigger soft than Keith was, but not as big hard. All three of them were very thick, though, and over 7". Ryan was a solid 6 and three quarters, and also very thick. He did get grief for what almost looked like a woman's landing strip above his cock. Jay was also about 6.75", but just average thickness.

And then there was Chris. They had all seen it coming for more than an hour of course; there was no way that little thing was going to grow enough to be significant. The catcalls and whistles had been deafening when the tape came out to measure his penis; at 4.5" hard and very thin (only 3.5" around), he was without question the loser of this competition. His prize was a 10" floppy dildo with balls. He tried to take it in stride and be good-humored about it.

Fortunately, they were all drunk by the time the measuring happened, including the actives. Since Chris had learned from his roommate over seven months to hold his liquor, he was able to respond with some semblance of coherence.

"Not the size of the boat that counts," he had protested, red-faced; the others responded with jeers.

"Yeah, but I'm the only one here who can bang a hot, tight Asian chick, and not hurt her," he added to general laughter. He put his hands behind his head and thrust his hips forward repeatedly for comic effect, his ludicrous little dick flopping and softening.

"You know all those studious girls with big tits who you think might be hot if they just dressed better and wore contacts? Well, they're all over me."

"That's because they never had one of us," one of the actives yelled. Mike. He was a prick, Chris noted.

"They're scared of you, bro," he said. "I'm the king of tight twats." He flexed his biceps and quads; everyone laughed.

Chris risked a quick glance at Justin for moral support. His roommate was engaged with one of the other brothers, and didn't seem to be paying attention to the pledges.

The one source of relief for Chris once the measuring had started was the tacit permission to be fully, and then intermittently, hard. Alone (he assumed) among his seven peers, he had a reason to get a boner when all the men around him were naked. Hell, he had a hard time staying soft when they were all clothed. But tonight, thanks to the sexually charged atmosphere, all the pledges were having sporadic erections, even when they weren't required to. That came as a relief to Chris, because he had been at least half-hard pretty much the whole time he was forced to be nude.

I may actually fucking get through this, he thought. Just don't panic.

Chas brought the group back to order after Chris' antics. It was time for a trivia game, based on fraternity history. Chris, sensing he had passed the dick challenge despite having theoretically lost it, contemplated his strategy. He didn't want to appear too nerdy, too eager, or like a know-it-all. He didn't want to be the small-dick striver who had memorized every page of the pledge manual, although that's in fact what he was. So he decided to be clever. He would miss a few questions, and then get enough right to finish solidly in the middle.

Unfortunately, the drinking started to catch up with him.

He flubbed the first two questions on purpose, but his mistakes on the third and fourth were unintentional. He got the fifth right, but at the end of 50 rounds of turning his answer over on an index card, he was concerned about his performance.

Chas' tally of the results followed a few minutes later, and it was not good for Chris.

The naked pledges had to line up, at attention again. Eight hot young men, butt naked, drunk, and goofily nervous. Chas read out the scores.

"Ryan was first, with 48 correct answers." Everyone booed.

"Keith is second, with 37 correct answers." Everyone cheered; it was enough of a dropoff that the brothers felt he had hit the sweet spot of caring about fraternity history without trying too hard, which would be uncool.

Then Chandler, Bryce, Josh, and Jay. Cooper was seventh.

To his utter, drunken shock, Chris came in last. Much hooting and whistling ensued.

"PAD-DLE, PAD-DLE," some of the actives started to chant.

Chas smiled.

"Looks like our friend, pledge Donaldson, has come in last TWICE now. Once for having the smallest dick . . ." The catcalls were again deafening. "And additionally for knowing the least about SAE's history." Booing and stamping shook the walls. Chris looked around, and sensed that all the guys in the room were drunk off their asses. And out for blood. He looked at the floor.