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An old flame dredges up embarrassing college exposures.
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"Liz Baker has added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Liz in order for you to be friends on Facebook."

Tom glanced at this subject line, halfway down a long list of unread emails that had accumulated on his laptop over the long weekend. He smiled. It had been almost thirteen years since he had met Liz at Duke. They had been in the same all-freshman coed dorm. Friendships born in that impressionable first college year seemed to him to be unlike those before or after. Though Tom and Liz had occupied rooms on opposite ends of the long straight hall spanning the second floor of the dorm, they had become good friends by the end of their first week at school. They bonded over the shared experiences of living on their own for the first time, of drinking too much for the first time, of staying up all night in the common room for the first time, and of rushing sororities and fraternities for the first and (thankfully, as Tom remembered it) last time.

For a brief time, they had been even more than good friends.

Their relationship gradually cooled after Liz won a berth at her pledged sorority, whereas Tom abandoned his pledged fraternity to join a more bohemian crowd.

Now married and living in Washington DC, Tom earned his living as a professor of Physics at Georgetown University. He was on the professorial fast track, recruited vigorously by competing universities while quietly promised an eventual Chairman's position at Georgetown in exchange for shunning such come-ons. His wife Jane, also a Duke alum, worked as a junior executive at a prominent DC advertising firm. They lived in an upscale Georgetown town house, and life was good.

Tom had ruminated about Liz occasionally over the years. Her cheerful outlook had profoundly affected him in that impressionable year of their friendship. OK, that _and_ she was drop-dead gorgeous. And taught him most of what he ever learned about sex.

They had had no contact since graduation. So this Facebook invitation was truly out of the blue. Tom had only recently signed up for a Facebook page, after reading in the New Yorker that 69% of Facebook users were under the age of 30. Tom felt anxious about having recently passed out of that demographic, and thought that signing up might yield a slice of youth. In the weeks since enrolling, he had Friended only one person, his former Duke freshman roommate James, who had since become a rising star in a nationally syndicated daytime soap opera.

Tom abandoned the work he had planned to do during his morning train commute, and opened the email from Facebook. In it he found an attached note from Liz explaining that she had found him through mutual Facebook friendship with James. Tom felt a pang of guilt about Friending her. His wife knew that Tom and Liz had had a fling. Even though it was before they met, he knew she would be less than pleased to see Liz on his short list of friends. Tom rationalized to himself that it was merely protocol to accept a Facebook friend offer. So he did. He avoided adding text to his Friend acceptance, hoping that she would take the lead if they were to get reacquainted (More guilt).

He did not have to wait long for a reply. Ten minutes later, a posting came to his wall from Liz:

"Long time, no see. I'm in NY. Law Associate at Franklin & Jordan. You look great in your picture. Still that warm smile I remember. I saw your website at Georgetown. Very professional! You married? Kids?"

Tom was deeply flattered, but knew that continuing this conversation had all the makings of a bad idea. And she had posted it on his wall! He still wasn't quite sure how to get such things off his Facebook wall, and did not want that flirty message hanging around for others to see. But, first things first, he went to her page to reply in a private message. He was surprised to find that she had no Friends listed at all on her page, not even James. Her personal photo was a head shot from the law firm.

"Liz, great to hear from you. And glad to hear you're doing well. I am married now (to Jane Warren, did you know her at Duke?) and living in Georgetown. No kids. You too look like quite the professional gal. What?s your status? Married? Kids? I'm a bit new to this Facebook thing, and so I hope this goes to your private inbox and not on your wall."

Tom pressed send. He was pleased with himself for finding a diplomatic way to offer her a hint about not posting publicly to his wall. He then found the pop-up delete button to erase her wall message. Then he looked around her page to see what he could find, and Googled her law firm. Sure enough, the same head shot appeared on the firm's web directory.

Later that morning, at his desk in the newly refurbished Physical Sciences building, Tom stared out the window while daydreaming about Liz. His thoughts were interrupted by a new email alert from his laptop. His inbox showed a message from LizBkr241@gmail.com with subject heading "Hey Blue Boy, nice to get reacquainted!"

---

Tom squirmed. "Blue Boy" was a reference to one of the last memories he shared with Liz, and it was not one he especially wanted to revisit with her.

Tom and Liz had both pledged to Greek organizations midway through their freshman year. Both were selected as pledges by their favorite houses, and both had endured some fairly intense hazing in the latter days of what was known affectionately as hell week. During hell week, a pledge was at the mercy of the upperclassmen of the house. The pledge class was forced to endure repeated humiliation and to perform silly, embarrassing, and even reckless tasks that were meant somehow to demonstrate loyalty. It was a ritual that each of the upper clansmen had endured, and that each was more than happy to continue from the side of power. Often, people thought that fraternities were more severe in their hazing than sororities, but Tom and Liz came to know that there was little difference. They had, in fact compared notes during the week despite a strict prohibition against discussing pledge activities. The only difference, as far as they could tell, was that the girls were more discreet. Tom had relayed to Liz, early in hell week, that the fraternity pledges had been forced to do an "elephant walk" in which they were forced to march naked throughout he frat house, each bent over the next in a long line. Each was required to use his "trunk" (arm) to grasp the "tail" (cock) of the pledge in front of him. While Tom considered himself far from homophobic he found this ritual unsettling. Liz replied with her own tale of a sorority "history quiz" where each pledge contestant was allowed to wear only a 35 gallon plastic garbage bag, with nothing on underneath. The bags were too short to provide even a hint of modesty. Worse, wrong answers earned a trip to a sawhorse, where the offending girl was asked to "assume the position" by bending over and lifting up the bag. Liz explained how she had been asked an impossible question early in the game, and was the first to take the punishment. She described, in vivid language that Tom would remember verbatim for years to come, the humiliation of putting her bare ass on display over the sawhorse and taking three swats with a paddle from a sophomore girl to the cheers of the entire house. That sophomore, Debbie, was the one who had recruited Liz to the sorority in the first place.

Blue Boy. That moniker came to Tom via the last night of hell week. Tom was awakened in the fraternity common room at 3AM by a throng of fraternity brothers in ski masks, who roughly tore him from his bed and demanded that he strip naked and stand at attention. Against his better judgment and exhausted from the week's activities, he complied. A brother put a blindfold on him, and another bound his hands in front of him using three plastic zip ties: one on each wrist and one connecting the pair. A third similarly bound his ankles. The leader of the group, a Junior named Steve, told Tom that this would be his last pledge task. The brothers wrapped him in a blanket and lifted him up, carrying him down the hall and, to his horror, outside. Tom was now fully awake, and dreading what would come next. The brothers kept up a brisk pace and after several hundred feet, entered the door of a building. They descended some stairs and entered a room, closing the door behind them.

Tom was completely disoriented. The brothers stripped off the blanket and stood Tom up, lifting his bound arms up and securing the tie straps to an eye-hook that was conveniently embedded in a beam spanning the room's low ceiling. Its height was such that Tom could just barely keep his feet flat on the ground, with his arms stretched high above. Steven said, "Your final task as a pledge is simple. Bring us a picture of you in this room, hanging from this beam. Since you are not in a position to take the picture yourself, you will have to ask someone to take it for you. In the picture, you've got to have at least one naked woman. Bonus points if she's touching you amorously. Oh, and your cock has to be painted Duke blue in the picture. We're headed home. Come join us when you can."

Tom was humiliated, and knew he was in a hopeless situation. He was completely exposed and at the mercy of his brothers. Yet as much as he loathed them, he was desperate for them not to leave. He was going to have to rely on _someone_ to help him and if not them, who?. He was naked, helpless, and strung up on display, who knew where, still unable to even see his surroundings.

"Are you going to take off the blindfold?" He asked, anticipating the response.

"Nope."

"Can you at least tell me where the fuck am I?" he pleaded.

The brothers all laughed. Steve said, "Sure. You're in the basement workout room for our sister sorority. When we get home, we'll give them a call to come and check on you. Good luck!"

Tom heard them leave, pulling the door closed behind them. Tom became certain right about that moment that all he wanted was to get out of this mess and be rid fraternity life for good!

Tom could manage a very slight view through the bottom of the blindfold if he tilted his head as far back as he could. It was dim, but an exit sign light the room adequately for him to see that it was, in fact, a workout room. He was discouraged to see that one wall was entirely covered with mirrors. The shock of seeing himself nude, dangling and on display filled him with keen embarrassment. He imagined the girls that would find him here sooner or later, and hoped that it wouldn't be anyone he knew. But then it occurred to him that this was Liz's pledged sorority. Liz's sorority! And she, he knew, was spending the night at the sorority house to complete pledge week. The mix of humiliation, anticipation, and thoughts of Liz seeing him this way sent an involuntary tingle to his groin. It surprised him, but he was getting a boner. He turned away from the mirror to survey the rest of the room. It had some exercise equipment, some soft mats for aerobics, and two treadmills. The room had a single door opposite the mirror wall.

It only took a few minutes before he heard raucous giggling and then the footsteps of what sounded like more than a couple of people descending the stairs. It got briefly quiet, then he heard an explosion of laughter outside the door. He twisted himself around to face away from the door, then smirked at himself for this futile attempt at preserving his modesty. In the first place, he could hardly cover anything up. In the second place, the mirrors ensured that every inch of him was on display from anywhere in the room. He was still sporting a half-mast hard-on when the door burst open. The lights flickered on, and a gang of girls barreled into the room. Tom managed a weak smile, and shook his head. "I'm sorry about this. I am so sorry."

"No need to be sorry, we're happy to see you," called out a cheery voice. Tom recognized it as Debbie, the sophomore who had tormented his friend Liz. "And it looks like you're happy to see us too! she added, noting his horizontal cock. "Does this turn you on? You bad boy." She turned her attention to her mates. "Well girls, we have a visitor."

"Can you cut me down?" Tom asked, contritely.

Debbie patted his ass cheek. "Well sure we can, sugar. But first we have to read this note on the ground. And, we have to get a good look at you!"

The mental image of an unknown number of girls gazing at his completely exposed naked body while he was blindfolded and helpless sent a shudder through Tom. Though wished he could prevent it, his cock continued to quiver toward full erection. Even that was out of his control.

Debbie's picked up the note and began reading. "This is Tom. He is a pledge of Beta Theta Pi fraternity. Tom loves to show off, as you can see! We've asked him to bring back a picture capturing his current predicament, with two added features. He needs to have a naked coed in the picture, and Tom's dangling bits need to have a coat of blue paint. We feel certain that Tom will agree to repay you for this kindness as you see fit, and appreciate the help of our Tri-Delt sisters! P.S. No hurry."

As Debbie read the note aloud, the collection of girls giggled and gasped. Tom guessed that there were four or five girls in the room. He could barely manage the odd dual sensation of excitement and shame.

"Well girls," Debbie declared, "we need to help Tom here." To Tom's surprise, her voice was right in front of him, and it sounded like she was facing him from about foot away. A moment later she pulled off the blindfold, and Tom blinked rapidly as his eyes became accustomed to the light. In front of him was Debbie, an attractive blonde with shoulder length straight hair and an incessantly cheerful face.

"Hi Tom." she said.

"Hi Debbie," he replied, cautiously. Tom glanced into the mirror in front of him, and saw that there were in fact six girls in the room. All were in sweatpants or sleeping gowns, and all were grinning from ear to ear. He recognized one other girl besides Debbie. Katherine, who was in his Sociology course. When he made eye contact with her in the mirror, she waved. "Hi Tom. Nice ass you got there."

"Really?" Debbie replied, looking over at Katherine. "His ass? I think his best feature is up front."

"Here turn around, Tom, and show Katherine the goods," Debbie said.

With that, Debbie wrapped his cock in her hand. She pulled it firmly sideways, while gently rotating him at the hips. Given Tom's suspended position and rigid cock, there was little he could do other than to follow her lead. He shuffled his feet to keep up with Debbie's persistent tug until he was turned 180 degrees. "There you go. Thanks Tom," she said, matter-of-factly, placing her free palm warmly on the side of his cheek. His hard-on was rock solid now, and his face turned crimson. Again the ensemble of girls giggled madly.

"See Katherine," Debbie said, pointing wtoward his cock. "This has _got_ to be his most outstanding feature." Katherine cupped her hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh, and nodded her head silently in agreement.

"Well Tom, I think we can help you out. The note says you'll be happy to repay us. Is that right? "

"Listen, I just want to be let down. You can forget the rest of it. Just cut me down and let me go home" Tom implored.

"Well, Tom, its not quite that simple. Your fraternity has its pledge rituals, and we have ours. The painting of the blue boy is a time honored-tradition here at Tri Delt, and we just can't pass it up."

"It figures," Tom sighed. "You guys _knew_ this was coming."

Debbie grasped his cock again and gave it a right-left-right sequence of gentle tugs to punctuate her words: "Just. Like. Christmas! And you're our present. You should be honored though. Only one Beta gets picked for this. And I have to say that last year the young gentleman required a little help to get the mast upright, if you know what I mean. But you. You are a real studmuffin."

She put her hand under his chin, drawing his eyes to hers. "So, Tom. We're going to get this picture, okay? And you will repay us by being a good little blue boy." She paused, and look of seriousness came to her face. "Right, Tom?"

Tom saw that the only way to get though this was on her terms, and that she was in charge. Even though he had no intention of ever visiting the Beta's again, he figured this photo shoot was inevitable. "Right," he whispered back. "Great!" She replied, cheerily. OK girls, lets do this thing. Cynthia, get the tripod. Mattie, go fetch Liz."

Liz! Tom was dumbstruck. So far the only upside of he could claim from this misadventure was that at least he had avoided seeing (or more precisely, being seen by) Liz. Now that shred of upside was slipping away.

"Liz?" he asked feebly, looking at Debbie with a hint of desperation.

"Liz!" she replied, happily. "Is it a problem for you if your friend gets to see you exposed like this?"

"I can't imagine it matters, but yes, I'd prefer if she didn't," Tom said.

Debbie took the tripod from Cynthia and began setting it up across the room. "You're right, Tom, it doesn't matter. Of course she gets to see you! All the of our sisters and and pledges will. We're just the advance team! You don't think we could deny our sisters this treat, do you?"

"Arghh," Tom moaned, shaking his head. Things were headed from bad to worse.

"Buck up, blue boy. We'll be done soon." The flash of the camera took Tom by surprise. Debbie took several more, framing the shot to her liking. "Smile Tom," she said. Struck by his compounding misfortune, Tom actually did smile, albeit while shaking his head in disbelief.

Tom heard jingling outside the room, coming down the stairs.

"That will be Liz now," Debbie declared, grinning at Tom.

Just then Mattie entered the room, holding a leash. Liz, naked, crawled in just behind her on the other end of the leash. She wore a dog collar and two blue ankle bracelets studded with jingle bells. Her face was painted white and brown like a basset hound, with floppy furry ears to match, attached on a headband. She wriggled in on all fours until she was in front of Mattie, and then looked up. When she saw Tom hanging naked from the middle of the room, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she said, "Its good to see you Tom. Just when a girl thinks that she's hit rock bottom, ass in the air and crawling around like a dog, you show up looking like you've found an even more embarrassing situation." All of the sorority sisters laughed.

Debbie explained the situation to both of them. "Liz, as the blue bell girl you'll be painting blue boy's thingey for the picture. Then, the two of you will pose for the shot. And its tradition that the blue boy picture shows a lad who is, how should I say this... excited. So you will do what is necessary to keep him that way until we're done. Understand?"

Liz nodded. She stood up and brushed off her red knees.

"OK," Debbie concluded, "I'll leave you with this finger paint and go get the rest of the girls!"

Liz took the top off of the blue paint jar and approached Tom. "OK Tom, lets get that thingey blue."

"You _knew_ about this?" Tom asked.

"I heard stories about blue boy night, but I didn't know the details or the cast of characters. Who knew we'd be playing the lead?" They both smiled. Liz slathered some paint on her fingers and, without breaking eye contact with Tom, reached down to grasp his cock. She worked the paint all around, and he was fully erect in seconds in her slippery hand. Tom groaned and muttered, "Easy there, Liz. I don't want to, you know..."

She pecked him on the lips, smearing a bit of her black nose paint on his nose. Wiping it off with her free hand she said, "Gotcha. Keep breathing, blue boy."

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