When the door clicked shut behind them, Jack was positively ecstatic. He thumped Chris
excitedly on the back. “Dude! He totally likes you!”
When Chris was certain his eyes weren’t about to be knocked out of his skull from the
sheer force of the blows, he spoke acerbically. “That’s not the impression I got.”
Jack was completely undaunted and pulled his friend against his side. “Trust me, bro. I
know these things. You’re in. You’re totally in.” He whooped in delight. “I can’t wait for
tonight!”
“Yes. I can hardly contain myself. Woohoo….”
Jack chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough, little bro. You’ll see.”
“Is this going to be your thing now?”
Jack smirked. “Maybe.”
Chris groaned. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive this.”
“Courage, my friend. Courage. The night is still young, and there are many vain and
foolish delights to tempt and tantalize.” He grinned. “I’ll make a bro out of you yet.”Chris barked a laugh. “You can try.”
Jack smirked. “Wait and see, bro. Wait and see.”
The party went into full swing as soon as the sun began to set. Torches were lit, burgers
were served, and the beer flowed like mead in a Viking feast hall. Drunken revelry filled the air
with hoots, growls, and howls as various antics were performed and thrust on would-be-pledges.
Keg stands, beer pong, the works.
And all the while, Chris was on guard, ever alert for groping hands and would-be attackers. But these “bros” were more cunning than Chris had given credit for. When Jack had
ceased to serve as a proper distraction, they found other means to “test” him. The card tables
were notorious, especially when they got into a round of strip poker.
Somehow, he always found himself getting stripped. And then would come the familiar
smack of the waistband. By the time he left those tables, his waist felt like it was burning. The
straps had been pulled and snapped so much by now, he was shocked they hadn’t lost their
stretch.
He stumbled toward the drink table. The tingling had intensified in his feet, and he was
tired of all the antics. But he had promised Jack he’d stay, and he wasn’t about to break his word,
even if the guys were being lunkheaded jerks.
“Rough night?” the keep asked as he filled another cup.
“You could say that.” Chris groaned and leaned against the makeshift counter where the
drinks were mixed, then served in the punch bowl to the side or in individual orders for the older
frat members.
“Sounds like you could use a pick-me-up.”
Chris sighed. “I just don’t really feel like I belong here, you know?”
“Do you want to belong?”
“I want to be with my friend. Does that count?”
The keep shrugged again. “It’s a start.” He passed a cup Chris’ way. “In my experience,
if you want to feel like fitting in, and you’re having trouble, it might not hurt to get a little help in
loosening up. And no, I’m not talking drugs. We don’t do those here. Ever. Anyone caught with
those gets immediate disbarment.”
“And what do you recommend?” Chris sipped his drink and sighed. The flavor was
surprisingly sweet, with a warmth that seemed to spread through his chest, then back into his
throat again as the drink went down.“A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.” He shrugged. “Or you could work off some
of that aggression in the other places. There’s wrestling and arm wrestling, you know. Even a
sumo mat and one of those stick pit things. You know, the game where you knock someone off
while you straddle a beam? Try some of them out. Let loose. Live a little. And if you’re really
that upset over something people are doing to you, why not pay them back? Fair’s fair, in my
opinion.”
“I still don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know to do. Take a risk. Live a little. What’s the worst that could
happen?”
“I get in a fight.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
Chris drained his cup and took the second that was proffered. “Have you seen their size?”
“I have. Have you seen yours?” He shook his head. “You think too little of yourself.
Think little and you’ll be little. So stop thinking and just be for a while.”
“Just be? That simple?”
“Simple’s usually the best.” The keep offered a third cup. “A few basic ingredients, and
you’ve got a kickass drink. Why not let it be the same for a man? Isn’t that one of the sayings
people use, the clothes make the man?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So, let your clothes do the talking for a while. It’s not like it’ll kill you to try something
different for a night.”
The warmth had spread through Chris’ whole body by this point, and a hint of a smile
pulled at his face, despite his attempts to quash it. “Just for a night, huh?”
“Just for a night. Just to try,” the keep offered again. “Who knows? You might actually
like it.”
Chris chuckled. “Fat chance.”
“Fat is easily trimmed with exertion.” The keep smiled as he took the cup back. “Why
don’t you go burn some of it off, until that chance comes along, hmm?”
Chris sighed. “I suppose I should try.” He rolled his eyes and adjusted his crotch as he
rose back to his feet. “Thanks for the drinks.”
“Any time, stranger. Feel free to come back if you need. I’ve got plenty to choose from,
and good advice to offer. It’ll put some hair on that chest of yours.”
Chris chuckled ruefully. “Can it put muscle on, too?” The barkeep smiled knowingly. “That’s up to you and just how much you decide to
follow those clothes of yours.”
“Sure, it is.” Chris’ cheeks flushed as he walked away from the bar. His legs tensed as he
scratched his glutes. But he did feel a little better. “Maybe just … one game of sumo.”
Chris leaned heavily into his steps as he finally emerged from the cocoon of padding that
had been his badge of honor for the last ten rounds and replaced his shoes. His belly burned. His
blood surged. And as for his rear, well … he was getting used to all the “attention.” If they didn’t
snap his waistband, they smacked him, instead.
“Bro, that was awesome!” one such frat member raved. “You toppled Titan! You toppled
the %&$*ing Titan!”
Chris smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”
“That’s my bro!” Jack hooted as he pointed from across the way and beat a meaty fist
against his chest in salute.
“To the hero of the ring!”
A cup was shoved in Chris’ face, and he took it. “Uh, … thanks?”
“Go on, bro, drink up! You earned it!”
It … was hot in that costume. And he was feeling thirsty. He took a hesitant sip. It wasn’t
the sweet flavor he’d had at the bar, but it wasn’t bad. There was a hint of orange in the brew that
offset the bitter flavor from the hops. The flush deepened, and a goofy smile pulled at his lips.
He hardly even felt the snap this time around.
He laughed, a curious hiccupping mixture between his usual higher register and a lower
bass. A heavy thump on the back nearly sent him tottering. Then came the deathgrip on his
waistband, followed by the largest snap to date.
And that wasn’t the only thing to snap.
Chris came to, thrashing in some much larger arms. The poor soul that had unleashed that
rage was being raised to his feet. Instead of frustration, though, there were smiles.
“Calm down.”
Chris immediately went limp at the command. He knew that voice, and he knew those
arms. Kyle had broken up the fight. Chris could already feel his sides throbbing.
“Get them some ice to dull the pain.” The others scattered, and soon both men were nursing ice packs. Jack lumbered to the
pair and frowned. “You all right, bro?”
“He’s fine. Just a little too eager, I think,” Kyle rumbled.
Chris’ head felt strangely muted as he looked over the frat president and his friend. It was
like someone had worn out the spark plugs up there, and now he just … existed. He grunted as
he nursed the ice pack. “M’fine, bro. Really.” Kyle said he was fine, so he was fine.
Jack grinned. “Did you just call me bro?”
One of the sparkplugs finally managed to fire properly. “Don’t get used to it.”
Kyle grunted. “If you want to fight next time, do it in the ring.” His thick brow furrowed
like thunderclouds over his eyes. “And remember you’re rushing the frat. That means letting the
rest of the guys have their fun.” He deliberately grabbed the waistband and snapped it. “Get used
to it.” He snapped it again. “Let it happen.” Once more. “Embrace it.” He yanked especially
hard, then leaned next to Chris’ ear after the last snap beat against the pledge’s skin. “You might
just be rewarded.” He chortled, though it sounded more like a growl. “Hell, you might actually
come to enjoy it.”
Each successive snap acted like a depth charge to Chris’ brain. His knuckles felt sore,
probably from the blows that were exchanged in the fight. His hands ached, as did his feet. His
head tingled as invisible fingers pricked and massaged at his scalp and deep in his conscious,
scouring expertly for those few spark plugs that were still working. His mouth gaped as he stared
into those eyes. The rough handling had forced him into a semi-stoop. “Uhh….”
“Got it?”
Another snap. The voice that answered sounded strangely distorted. “Got it….”
“Good.”
Chris blinked at Kyle. The president looked … bigger, somehow. His sleeves strained
against his arms to the point of almost breaking, and the hair along his arms had thickened. “You
look … funny.”
Kyle smirked. “So do you. Now get back out there. I want to see you make a real party
animal of yourself.”
Chris couldn’t help but chuckle. “Think I already have.”
“Give it time, Chris. Give it time.”
A heavy thump on the back almost sent him sprawling. Chris nodded and grunted as he
adjusted the pouch on the jock strap. The thing was starting to feel a little tight.
“Come on, bro.” Jack grinned as he laid a meaty arm around Chris’ shoulders. This time,
the weight didn’t feel so overwhelming. It felt … comfortable. “Let me introduce you to the
world of beer pong.”