A NOTE TO THE ARCHIVIST: This story is currently listed under "High
School" but is actually a story about college students. Is it possible
to have this re-classified under College? Thanks for the support.
Keywords: College, University, SPH, Small Penis Humiliation, frat,
Frats, fraternity, hazing, frat house, wedgie, briefs, tighty whities
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction which features sexual
activity between college aged boys. If consumption of this media is
illegal due to age or location, or you do not wish to read such a story,
please do not proceed. This story contains content related to bullying
and small penis humiliation (SPH). Some language found in this story may
offend some audiences. Reader discretion advised.
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CHAPTER FOUR
The frat house looked uncharacteristically elegant in the late-morning sunlight. If it weren't for the plywood Greek letters haphazardly perched atop the porch awning, I wouldn't suspect the young-adult debauchery that went on behind these cheaply painted walls. Exhaling, I tried to suppress the recent memory of bolting out the back door entirely nude. In futile desperation, I managed to scrounge up what little confidence I could find in my scrawny body. Holding my head up high and straightening out my shoulders felt no more real than a dollar store mask or cut-up bed sheet worn by a child on Halloween.
"Soo, are you going to open the door, or should I?" Kieran interrupted my train of thought, "Because if you need a few more minutes to psych yourself up, I can go back to standing here and looking pretty. It is what I am best at, after all."
"No, you're right. I'm late enough as is," I explained.
"I could have just driven us. That would have been faster than taking the bus."
"Wait. You have a car on campus? Why didn't you lead with that?"
"Youuu didn't ask!" Kieran's rebuttal drew out of that mischievous grin in a sing-songy voice, "Now onward, Tiny Tim!" He opened the door and gave me a firm push forward.
Stumbling over my own feet into the damp-smelling entryway of the frat house, something Kieran had said to me popped back into my head. "Wait, what did you mean by this being the gay frat," the volume of my voice progressively dropped as I reached the end of my thought.
Almost as if he had been waiting for me to ask, Kieran's eyes lit up and his composure shifted to that of a history professor, teaching about some ancient civilization. "Back in the nineties, when my Uncle Giuseppe went here, Gamma Sigma Delta was one of the big leagues. Only the top of the food chain joined Gamma Sig: Football jocks, rich douchebags and..." Kieran paused to let out an unnecessarily dramatic shutter, "communication majors -- gross... But they got in some serious trouble with the school. Turns out, they had some fucked up hazing rituals going on. One year, they branded all the pledges, then gave them fancy watches to cover the scars on their wrists."
This kid really did have a flair for drama, didn't he? "You're messing with me again."
"No! I swear on the grave of Ichabod the First, my grandfather. I was named after the man, his grave means something to me."
"I know your name's not Ichabod, and I doubt you even have an Uncle Guiseppe."
Kieran slapped me on the back and continued to lead me into the frat house. "If you say so, Tiny. Anyway, the school started cracking down on hazing, claiming it was `cruel and unusual punishment' or whatever. So to avoid losing their charter and the house, they started putting up rainbow flags. A bunch of the brothers came out as gay to make the argument that the school couldn't disband their only gay frat. I've got no idea if any of them were actually gay, but it worked either way. They're still around, 30 years later."
I knew by now not to trust a single word that came out of his mouth, but Kieran told a convincing story. As I walked into the living room of the house, I saw a group of familiar faces and one familiar torso. I guess if I looked half as good as Scott did, I wouldn't want to wear a shirt very often, either. It's ironically cruel, really. I was so close to winning the genetic lottery. I'm a white man born in the United States to a middle-class family. On the social pyramid of privilege, I may not be at the top, but I sure as hell wasn't anywhere near the bottom. But instead of being blessed with athletic abilities or shit, something as simple as being attracted to women, I got a below-average penis, crippling social anxiety, and an insatiable hunger for men completely out of my league. Wait, how long have I been standing here staring?
"Tim! You made it! And you brought a friend. I didn't think we'd see you again after the shit this one pulled," Scott shouted across the room, slugging Josh in the arm. "Grab a seat! You already know Gabe and Josh. Would you believe Gabe was my little?"
"Uhh, little? Oh, I'm Lemongrass Gogulope, by the way." Kieran stepped up, extending a hand out to shake Scott's.
"No, he's not. This is Kieran, he lives across the hall from me."
"I've never met this boy in my life... But again, little?" Kieran shushed me for once again ruining his weird obsession with fake names.
"Well, we're all brothers --"
"Or siblings!" Gabe interrupted
"Yes, thank you, Gabe. What I mean is we're all a family here at Gamma Sig. We all start off rushing the frat. If you receive a bid after next weekend, you're considered a pledge. After a semester of pledging, you're welcomed as a brother-- or sibling-- of Gamma Sigma Delta. Members who have been around for at least a year can adopt one of the pledges as their `little brother.' Think of it like a mentor-mentee situation. My big graduated last spring, and I adopted this little shit as my little when they were still just a Gabey. They grow up so fast, just yesterday, you were scared shitless, and now you're the frat treasurer!"
"Oh shut up, Mr. President." Gabe blushed and used a phony sophisticated voice to mock Scott in return. They turned to Josh and messed their fingers through his hair "And this hunk right here was my little last year."
"Josh is a sophomore now, so he may end up adopting one of you two as his very first little. Lemongrass, was it?"
"It was not," I jumped in, sharply, before letting Kieran gloat over his pseudonym.
"Look, Gabe goes by They/Them pronouns. If Lemongrass wants to be called Lemongrass, we'll abide by it." Scott seemed like a genuinely good guy, and I'm not just saying that because of his unbelievably good looks.
"Damn, if I knew that was the case, I would have given you something way better than Lemongrass. Wait, that doesn't mean I have to stop calling Tiny Tim, Tiny Tim. Does it?" Kieran couldn't help but shine that annoying grin as he poked fun at me again.
We continued to laugh and joke around with one another while Scott and Gabe introduced some of the other brothers. There were three other freshmen rushing the frat. Leo, an international student from Italy; Ray, a rather heavy set guy with a southern twang to his voice; and John, an average-built guy with thick-framed glasses and flawless, dark skin. We were given a tour of the frat house which took a little too long admiring what Scott described as the Hall of Presidents. Cheesy portraits of every Gamma Sigma Delta president hung on the wall, dating all the way back to when the frat was founded.
"And this picture is from 1997, the last year Gamma Sig won the bed race. We were unstoppable for over 20 years. That is, until the curse." Scott stopped for a dramatic pause.
The bed races were a major event on the Whoriders campus. All the frats would build go-carts out of rolling beds and race them down University Boulevard. This dangerous and exhilarating display of collegiate jackassery has been a Whoriders tradition since the mid-70s.
"The curse?" Kieran mockingly chuckled before I managed to throw an elbow into his side, urging him to shut up.
"Yes, the curse." Gabe chimed in, "For years, romantic relationships within the frat were forbidden. Sure, hookups were plentiful, but full-blown relationships between frat brothers and other brothers, family members of brothers, or ex-girlfriends of brothers were not allowed. In `98, Jeremy Reynolds started dating Ronnie Fitz's former high school sweetheart. To get back at him, Ronnie sabotaged the Gamma Sig bed the night before the big race. Poor Jeremy broke his arm in six places. Ronnie was given the option to break up with his girl or leave the frat. When he chose to betray his brothers for a girl he just met, he cursed Gamma Sig with horrible bad luck during every bed race since."
"The Fitz-Reynolds law still stands, but with one exception. Last year, Joshie here was so head-over-heels for Gabe that he wouldn't leave me alone about it. Jacky, my big, and I figured that we were already cursed, what's the harm in letting these two lovebirds give it the ol' college try." Scott explained.
"Scooott, you're making me look like a wuss in front of the freshies" Josh whined.
Not like I had a chance to begin with, but it still hurt knowing that I would never be allowed to date Scott in all his presidential beauty. The rest of the tour proved to be pretty uneventful. Scott and Gabe shared some other house rules and weird traditions, then we all gathered back in the living room. Two of the other brothers were dumping what smelled like pure gasoline into a large, orange five-gallon drum. Followed by 2 gallons of aloha punch, which was a color that cannot be described as anything other than radioactive green, several sliced up lemons and limes, 7 tall cans of dollar-store-brand energy drink, and finally a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew. I wondered if that ingredient held any importance, as it was the only one to not be a discounted off-brand.
"This, rushes, is what we call Sigma Surge. It is a delicate mix of only the finest ingredients: bottom shelf, plastic bottle grain alcohol; enough caffeine to give a small horse a heart attack; fruit-flavored soft drinks that are so artificial they legally needed to misspell `froot', and of course, Mountain Dew. Here, have a taste"
I accepted the plastic cup from the elder brother, smelling nothing but a sickly sweet aroma as I knocked back the gulps of Sigma Surge. "Incredible. I don't taste the alcohol!" I blurted out, somehow already slurring my words.
"Be careful with this stuff," the brother warned, "it is not for the weak of heart... or stomach."
"I'm sure it's not that strong" Kieran reassures himself, as he fills a cup nearly to the brim and starts to chug.
"Woah check out the kahunas on Lemongrass!"
Games of pong kept a steady uproar that fought the loud music blaring in the frat house. After a while, the majority of the group gathered around the torn up couches to play a game called Kings. After a couple rounds of me losing horribly, I decided that I should probably take it easy on the Sigma Surge. I awkwardly declared, "you guys keep playing, I'm going to find a restroom".
"Okay dude, it's not an airport, no need to announce your departures" Scott joked, and was immediately congratulated with a drunken high five from Kieran. "Down the Hall of Presidents, second door on your right" he continued.
That was so painfully awkward. Find a restroom... Where do I think I am? Can I just play it cool for once? Hold on, did Scott say the first door on the left, or the second. Or was it on the right? I find a door that is cracked open, and has what looks to be a male and female symbol merged into one.
"That's got to be a unisex bathroom, right?" I say to myself, as I slowly push the door further open. The lights are off, but this clearly was no bathroom. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting as I scanned the room, then I heard a hushed moaning. Not more than four feet in front of me was Gabe, kneeling in front of Josh who sat on the edge of the bed. I rubbed my eyes, and began to put together what was going on. Josh's jeans and bright red briefs hung loosely around his ankles and his head was tilted back in a daze of pleasure. His moaning grew stronger as Gabe bounced their head, up and down in his lap. Slurping and bobbing up and down, Gabe increased their pace with each stroke. Was this really happening? My eyes couldn't decide which was more enticing, the waves of pleasure emanating from Josh's face, or the slick manhood sliding in and out, in and out of Gabe's mouth. My own boyhood started to stiffen in my still crusty briefs, when suddenly, Josh's moans peaked into an outright cry of pleasure. He firmly grasped the hair at the back of Gabe's head and forced their head all the way down the length of his cock.
I was just as relieved as I was disappointed that the blowjob before me was coming to an end. Watching this any longer might have sent me over the edge, a second load in these poor tighty whities was the last thing I needed today. Josh's panting came to a sharp stop, then was followed by "Oh hey Tiny, just watching, or did you want to join in on the fun?" Josh, half seductively and half teasingly beckoned to me. My cheeks were radiating with red embarrassment, and Gabe shot their head around, wiping the corner of their mouth with the back of their hand.
"What the fuck, man? A little privacy, or at least a warning would have been nice!" Gabe shouted, standing up from their kneeling position.
"Shit. shit. Sorry!" I said, bumping my face into the door as I desperately tried to escape the situation in a sheer panic. "Sorry!" I shouted behind me again, rushing back down the Hall of Presidents.
I found Kieran chugging yet another cup of Sigma Surge, surrounded by pledges and brothers alike all chanting "Le-mon grass! Le-mon grass!"
"Kieran, It's time for us to go."
"Whoo!?" he blurted out in apparent drunkenness, bright red liquid still dripping from the corners of his mouth.
"Come on man, I'm serious. Let's go"
"Nice to meet you," he paused to let out a burp, eyes widening in worry for a moment before finishing, "Nice to meet you Serious, I am Sir Lemongrass, winner of kings and conqueror of Sigma Surge". Despite his increasingly slurred speech, he managed to give me a theatrical bow before groaning, "Oh no."
"What do you mean, oh no?" I said, not at all hiding my anger with him.
"The surge has come for its reveeeeenngeeeee" The final word was so drawn out and quiet, like a pained whisper, that It took me a moment to realize what was going on. With the utmost grace of a rhino riding a unicycle, Kieran bolted for the nearest trash can and vomited violently. I walked over to him, placed one hand caringly on his back, and brushed back his fiery red hair with the other. Between heaves, he whispered to me, "Okay Tim, you win this time. Let's go home."
That's the end of Chapter 4! Sorry for the long gap between chapters; I'm back now and excited to continue Tiny Tim's chronicles. This one was a bit of a slower chapter, setting the scene for some exciting things to come. I enjoyed reading all the lovely emails! They really do encourage me to keep writing. I would love to hear your thoughts, suggestions, and/or requests! Next chapter should be ready in about a week or so. I'm going to try to get into the rhythm of sending in chapters every Monday.
Cheers, ~CJ
writing.by.c.y.johnson@gmail.com