Introduction
Alpha Zeta Rho .... the cockiest, all-jock frat on campus.
Known for keg stands, locker room brawls, and one secret tradition:
Every year, they pick one pledge to turn into their house toy.
Troy (Aka. ME)
Age: 19. Slim. Pale. Big eyes. Soft lips.
The only freshman in the house who doesn’t look like a linebacker.
Always in too-short shorts and tight tees. Always watching.
They say I got in “by mistake.”
I'm starting to realize… it was on purpose.
I'm not the first. But I'm this year’s toy.
💪 Jace: The Golden Boy
Wide shoulders. Tan. Abs you can hear crunching. Dirty blonde hair he never brushes. Cocky smirk that could ruin lives.
Quarterback. Wrestling team. Always shirtless.
He roughhouses with you. Calls you “princess.”
But that smirk lingers when you’re on your knees.
“You’re soft, pledge. Bet you moan like a girl too.”
🧠 Chase: The President
Bulkier. Meaner. Buzzcut. Thick jaw. Thicker thighs. Cock like a weapon.
Senior. Runs the house like a locker room. Cold eyes, cruel laugh.
Knows everything. Plans everything.
He’s the one who picked you.
“You’re not here to party, pledge. You’re here to serve.”
🦁 Brett: The Muscle
Italian-American. Olive skin. Slick dark hair. Muscles like he was carved. Cocky, but quiet.
He doesn’t speak much. Just watches. Judges. Sometimes films.
Rumor is, if Chase is the brain, Brett is the muscle.
“Bend over, pledge. It’s not a request.”
🎸 Lucas: The Pretty Dude
Long hair. Tattooed. Built like a swimmer. Always high. Always smirking.
Thinks hazing is “performance art.”
Wears crop tops. Still gets more pussy than anyone.
Or so he says.
“You moan prettier than half my hookups, pledge. Don’t stop.”
😈 Joshua: The Sadist
Southern. Cowboy boots. Veiny forearms. Lean, sinewy strength. Freckles and a mean streak.
He calls you “boy.” Spits when he laughs.
Likes punishments. Likes watching.
Has a rope kink and zero limits.
“Beg me, pledge. Make it sound sweet.”
Part 1: Moving Day: Alpha Zeta Rho House
I applied to Alpha Zeta Rho during Rush Week as a joke.
I mean, seriously. An all-jock frat? Me? A twink like me?
That’s hilarious.
I used to love fucking with hot straight jocks in high school. Flirting too much. Lingering a little longer in locker rooms just to watch them get uncomfortable. Sometimes they’d get angry. Sometimes they’d get curious. I liked both.
So the idea of pledging their sacred little frat felt like the ultimate dare. I filled out the application online, tossed in a half-shirtless mirror selfie, and submitted it with zero expectations. Just vibes.
Surprisingly, I was invited for an interview.
A couple of days later, I get the text.
“You’re in, pledge" – Brother Chase
Chase. The frat president. The one who was the lacrosse-playing jock with a voice like black coffee and a smile that meant trouble. He didn’t say “congrats” or “welcome.” Just that. You’re in. Like it had already been decided.
I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I was their diversity pick. Maybe it was my selfie. Maybe it was something worse. But somehow I got selected. And not just as a pledge.
They invited me to move into the frat house.
Apparently, that’s not normal. Most pledges don’t live inside. Especially not freshmen. But Alpha Zeta Rho said it was tradition. Said I’d be living there through Hell Week. I should’ve asked more questions.
So yeah. Here I was. Outside the house. Two duffel bags, one pounding heart, and way too many assumptions about what would happen once I stepped inside.
Being around jocks was a dream. Living with them? I didn’t know if it would be heaven, hell, or something in between.
The door opened before I could even knock.
A tall guy with dark hair and a sleeveless tee leaned in the doorway. Tan, broad, smug as hell.
“First floor. Toward your left. The very far end,” he said. “Welcome, pledge.”
He smirked and stepped aside, not even offering to help with my bags.
I dragged them inside. The house smelled like sweat and body spray and pizza. Somewhere upstairs someone was blasting EDM. I passed three shirtless guys on the way to my room, all of them nodding with the same quiet, cocky look that said, We already own you.
The room was basic. Bed, drawers, tiny desk. One window. Nothing on the walls.
It was mine.
For now.
I dropped my bags and closed the door behind me. A weird wave of relief hit me. Like I could finally breathe. Like I was still just a regular guy who hadn’t yet been broken in.
My room was right next to Brother Jace.
Yeah. Jace.
The one who had interviewed me during Rush Week. The one with the dirty blond hair and the arms that barely fit into sleeves. I remembered stammering through my answers while he leaned back, legs spread, looking at me like he already knew I’d say yes to anything.
I unpacked fast, needing something to do. Shirts in the top drawer. Pants in the middle. Underwear in the bottom one. Just basics. Briefs. A few boxers. Nothing too crazy.
I didn’t want to give them ideas. Not yet.
Eventually I collapsed on my bed, fully dressed, phone slipping from my hand, the sound of my own nervous thoughts lulling me into a nap.
When I woke up, the room was darker. Outside my window, the sun had completely vanished. My phone buzzed in my lap. 8:57pm.
Shit.
Movie night. The introductory meeting. I was supposed to be downstairs by nine.
I rolled out of bed, yawning, stretching, feeling groggy and out of place. I walked over to my drawers to grab something clean to wear and froze.
My bottom drawer was open.
The underwear drawer.
I hadn’t left it that way.
On top, sitting dead center, was a note. Folded in half. My stomach dropped as I picked it up and read the ink in bold, cocky handwriting:
Rule #1: Never keep your door closed, pledge.
I’ve replaced your boring underwear with something more appropriate.
Wear one and come downstairs.
- Brother Lucas
My breath caught in my throat.
I looked down.
My briefs were gone.
Replaced with three tight, pristine thongs; red, black, and baby blue....neatly folded like a gift.
What the fuck.
Was this a hazing thing? A prank? A test?
Was I really supposed to show up to my first frat meeting wearing a thong?
I hesitated for maybe ten seconds.
Then I grabbed the baby blue one and slipped it on.
It hugged my hips, clung to my ass, made me feel instantly exposed. The outline of my cock was more visible than I wanted it to be. But… maybe that was the point.
I threw on a clean white tee. Took one last look in the mirror. My thighs were bare. My cheeks peeked out under the hem of the shirt. My heart was thudding.
And I went downstairs.
The living room was chaos in slow motion.
A huge sectional couch took up most of the space. Five or six guys were lounging; some shirtless, some in swim trunks, others in loose gym shorts. No one seemed to care about the movie playing on the flatscreen. They were drinking, eating, laughing, sprawled with their legs wide open like they were home alone.
Until they saw me.
Every head turned. Every pair of eyes dragged down my body. And suddenly I could feel the shape of the thong under my shirt. I felt slutty. I felt watched. I felt… kind of high.
Brother Jace was sitting in the middle of the couch, arm flung lazily over the backrest.
“Come sit here, pledge,” he said.
I moved toward the open cushion next to him, heart racing, breath shallow.
But just as I was about to sit down, Jace raised one eyebrow.
“Not there, pledge.
On my lap.”
I blinked.
Laughed.
“Wait. Are you serious?”
From across the room, Chase didn’t even look away from his drink.
“If a brother asks, you obey. No hesitation.”
Then Brett - tall, smirking, legs spread like a throne...added:
“Sit on his lap, pledge.”
My throat was dry. My whole body tingled. Their eyes were still on me. Curious. Amused.
I looked at Jace. He patted his thigh.
And I took one slow, trembling step forward.
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