Frat Legacy

Frat legacy

By Naughty Bard

Warning: this story contains sexual acts (oral, domination, humiliation, watersports) both straight and gay.

If you don't like it, or it is illegal in your country or state, please stop reading.

Hey everyone!

Ok, so it's been over a year and I can't tell you how sorry I am but I'm pretty slow when it comes to writing.

You probably don't even remember the story so far but for those of you who do this chapter answers a few question.

Again, I know there are many characters but please stick with them till the end. Thanks to my friend Luca for once again being part of the creative process.

As usual I always appreciate your comments, so please drop me a line: naughtybard@gmail.com

Big thanks to my friend John for editing my work as usual.

Please keep in mind that Nifty needs our donations to keep this awesome service running!

That being said... enjoy!

Chapter 4

Pain. So much pain. Constant, unremitting, piercing pain. How long had it been? It felt like months though Number 5 realized it was more like days. It was hard to tell. It was pitch dark all around him. He couldn't see shit. There were no windows in that part of the basement. No way of telling how much time had passed. He was starving among other things and severely dehydrated. He had never felt this parched his whole life. The dirty socks he had balled up in his mouth had once been drenched in spit but they were barely damp now. The taste in his dry mouth was awful. And most of all, he wanted a fix. He needed a dose of the fagdrug', like godly Master Justin liked to call it. The slave was showing every single symptom of withdrawal in the book. His whole naked body was shaking, covered in sweat, he had palpitations and troubles breathing. He wanted it so badly, he was convinced he would have likely killed for it. He would have done anything, ANYTHING to make it all stop. Why had he put himself in that position when his life was so goddamn perfect? He had it all. He was a slave in a house of straight gods. What more could a faggot vermin such as himself possibly want? Huh?! WHAT?! He was so stupid. Always had been, since he was a little kid. Always finding a way to fuck things up. And this time was no different. He had fucked up big fucking time. Yet again. He had been warned to get his shit together in every possible way. His fellow slaves had reported him more than once and the godly masters had tried to teach him. But had he learned? Of course not. He was simply not bright enough. Some animals are but he wasn't one of them. A bright animal would have finished cleaning his godly master's room BEFORE he came back with his newest fuckhole. The look of pure disgust on Master Justin's face as he, the slave, had rushed out of the room to give them privacy had shattered his heart. Sure, it wasn't easy to calculate how much time they had to clean the Masters' rooms because those godly studs would rightly come and go as they pleased and the rooms had to be in perfect condition at all times. How the slaves managed to make that happen was certainly not the godly Masters' problem and obviously no mistakes could be tolerated. Not even if, as it had been his case, the dumb slave only literally needed three more minutes to close the windows and crank up the AC so the temperature in the room was just to the godly master's likings. No. It had been his own fault and he knew it. And the pain he was enduring was well deserved. Yet, he couldn't bear it anymore. It was too much for his fag brain. Tears kept falling down his cheeks as he stared at the door, praying for it to open. For Master Blake to come back and free him from that torture chamber. He suddenly would have slapped himself if he could. Moron!' he thought to himself. It was a correction room and he deserved that much and way more. Stupid! Stupid fucking faggot! You're still having these disrespectful thoughts?' The muscles in his arms and neck were hurting the most. They were the only thing that prevented him from having his ass torn open. The device he had been tied to was hellish but somehow so effective. It was his first time on it, it was very rarely used after all. In fact, of all the current slaves in the frat house, it had only been used on a couple of them who had been incompetent enough to deserve it. It kinda looked like one of those high bar-stools, you know? The extra-large wooden seat had a u' shaped hole large enough to fit the slave's neck so that his shoulders were right underneath the edge and his chin was placed on top of it so that he was facing the seatback. His hands were tied to the metal pole underneath the seat to which he was holding on for dear life. His ankles were tied to the base of the stool. His uncaged balls and constantly hard dick were trapped between two thick metal plates, one over the other. As the weight on the seat increased for any reason, the upper plate would squash down the fag's junk mercilessly. Right now there was a fifty pound dumbbell placed in front of his muzzle which was the main cause of his insufferable pain. But that wasn't all. See, he was squatting over a metal dick-shaped dildo that grew larger and larger towards the base. He had a good six inches inside of him and his asshole was stretching way beyond `tolerable'. That's why he was holding on to the stool pole to try and hoist himself up a bit and ease the pain to his ass which unfortunately caused the upper metal plate to be pushed down hurting him even more in an endless cycle of pain and moaning and crying. The only silver lining was the used jockstrap, godly Master Blake had left inches from his nose. He couldn't see it but he could definitely picture it in his mind and he could smell it. God, such a godly smell. He simply couldn't help trying to reach it and rub his face in it and the more he leaned forward the more he pushed down with his hands and the more his balls were squashed. Yet he kept doing it with an animalistic urge, a yearning that he couldn't hope to suppress. Moaning, grunting, sweating, crying, shivering, hurting... Again and again and again...

The door finally opened and the light hurt his eyes.

"What up, faggot? Still alive?" Master Blake snickered, entertained as he switched on the light which caused the slave to shut his eyes instantly.

"MMMMMM!!!" He screamed in his gag, in joyful desperation.

"Hehe! Missed me that much?" Master Blake replied.

The fag couldn't see his gorgeous features very well, he was still trying to adjust. He could hear him getting closer though. And then suddenly the pressure on his balls became way stronger. His whole body tensed even more than before as he yelped in agony and realized Master Blake had casually leaned on the seatback of the device and was smirking two feet from his stupid muzzle, very, very calmly.

"So, how do you like the queeredeemer'?" he asked "It's been in the frat since 84, you know!"

"MMMMMMMMMM!!!!!" The fag's throat was hurting too now. He was screaming his lungs out and crying.

"Helped hundreds of dumb faggots understand that rules must be obeyed. Always. No exceptions." he was talking to him like you talk to a small child. Not moving an inch, still leaning heavily on the seatback, his green eyes stabbing him with mirth and derisive disgust.

"MMMMMMMM!!!" Number 5 was about to go crazy. He didn't even understand what parts of his body hurt anymore.

"The guy who invented it must have been a genius, don't you think?" godly Master Blake had that super conversational tone you have when you chat about the weather.

"MMMMMMMMMMM!!!" the fag was pleading with his eyes.

"I know, dude! I agree! All faggots should try this at least once. It's fucking perfect for subhuman scum like you! That's what I keep telling everybody!" Master Blake vented "It fucking teaches you your place in life and this should happen waaaay before college!" he snorted "I mean, fine, first grade is too soon, sure! But I say sixth or seventh grade... that's the perfect time to start! God, it would make school soooo much more fun for us and it would totally help you learn the skill you actually need in your sorry life." he smirked down at him. "What do you think?"

"MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!" the slave was biting the dirty socks in his mouth with so much strength it felt like his teeth were about to crack. Master Blake was still smirking serenely at him.

"Uuuhhh! Yeah, I can't even begin to imagine how much that shit must hurt!" he winced mockingly "But you fags love this, don't you? You're all the same." he stated then suddenly spit on his face arrogantly "Each and every one of you stick around no matter what we do to you and you even keep coming back for more, hehe!" he snickered "Pathetic doesn't even begin to describe your existence!"

"MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!" The amount of pain was probably only comparable to how much Number 5 was loving being talked to like that by someone like godly Master Blake. How had he ever thought that straight gods and fag vermins were part of the same species was beyond him. HOW? The cocky smirk the master had on his beautiful face was so dreamy. His expensive looking headphones were around his neck and he was wearing a simple wife beater and a backward cap. One of those MAGA caps. The masters must have been out recruiting for the patriarchy again. The fag's dick got even harder. But the pain was overwhelming. He was positive he was about to pass out. However, all of a sudden the pressure almost disappeared as the god straightened up and even removed the dumbbell on the seat.

The fag's heart was beating so hard, the inside of his chest hurt. He was still panting and the noises he was making were sounding more and more similar to an actual animal. The pain was still running through his body and every pore was producing so much sweat it was embarrassing. But the little rationality he had left told him that somehow, slowly, very slowly, the pain would have subsided now that his junk wasn't being crushed anymore.

His gag was removed and he opened his mouth to let the socks roll out of it.

"Hehe! I forgot they were there, hehe! Did you wash them good for me, fag?" the straight god cackled, looking down at that pitiful creature. He picked up a water bottle and drank avidly from it.

"Sir..." The fag's voice was all raspy "Thank you so much, Sir..." he said "For teaching me, Sir... and for letting me suck of your dirty socks, Sir... and for leaving your dirty jockstrap for me to sniff, Sir... And for spitting on my face just now, Sir... I am sooo honored, Sir..." he poured every single ounce of sincere gratitude he had inside which was a whole lot. He kept looking at that god, drinking... he needed to drink too. So badly that it probably showed.

"Thirsty, fag? Hehe!" Master Blake snickered as he put the bottle down.

"Y... yes, Sir..." the fag pleaded. The straight god simply smirked.

"You know, what? I'm feeling suuuuuper generous today! So I'll cut you a deal." he said, fishing something out of his pocket. "You do know what this is, don't ya?"

The godly master showed him a green pill. The fag's eyes widened.

"It's... it's... the fagdrug, Sir..." the slave stuttered, so excited now.

"Bingo! Hehe!" replied Master Blake "Only this is about five times the daily dose you're used to." the fag realized his tongue was sticking out "Do you want it?"

"Yes!! Please Sir!" the fag's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, I'll bet! What the hell, I might even consider pissing down that fagthroat to give you something to wash it down with." he said.

"Oh my god, please, Sir, do it! Please! I'll do anything, I swear!" the fag's dick was now so hard it hurt.

"Good, fag! That's what I like to hear!" Master Blake said smirking "So I'll make it super easy for you, ok? Listen carefully!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"All you gotta do is beg me to sit on the queeredeemer." He said calmly "You see, I need to do a series of suuuuper boring stretching exercises for my shoulder and I need a place to chill. You wouldn't want a player of the Golden Panther's lineup to suck at the next game, right?" he asked, almost diabolically.

"N... n... no, Sir, never..." stammered number 5.

"Good! And besides you should consider it an honor that I even asked!" Master Blake smirked as the fag started to nod "I mean, sure, it's probably gonna hurt like nothing ever before." the jock shrugged unconcerned "But let's face it, fags don't need balls, anyway, do they? Hehe!" he snickered. "So? What do you say?"

Number 5's eyes opened wide in pure unmitigated horror. How the hell was he gonna take what was coming? It was impossible. The pain would be unbearable. Completely unbearable. Yet the second he started to consider the implications, he already knew deep down he was gonna do it. And he was gonna beg so hard no other slave in that frat could compare to him.

"Please, Sir!" He started whining "I'm begging you, would you please sit on the queeredemer for as long as you like so that you can crush my balls? You're absolutely right. Disgusting faggots like me don't need balls, Sir so they deserve to be crushed by a straight god such as yourself! Please!"

"Hahaha! Wow! Three whole seconds to decide. So fucking eager! I think this might be a new record, fag! Hehe!!" Master Blake cackled "Alright, you got it! You get the pill, my piss and a healthy dose of educational pain. It really is your lucky day!"

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" the fag was crying, he couldn't help it. Even though inside he was more excited than scared.

The Master temporarily removed the seat of the device and got close to his face.

"Open up." He said and dropped the green pill inside his mouth. Then he lowered the front of his gym shorts and his perfect dick came into view. The piss hit the back of his fag throat almost immediately and the slave started swallowing gratefully. "Yeah, chug it, bitch! That's any fag's favorite energy drink, am I right? Hehe!" It was so good to finally taste Master Blake's piss. It was the first time and he definitely lived up to his godly reputation. It was arguably the tastiest piss the fag had had in the year he had spent in that frat. So fucking good. "Fucking pathetic!" Master Blake muttered disgusted and spit right in the fag's eye. That was the moment that lowly fag cunt promised himself he would never EVER screw up again. He had to do better if he wanted to keep living the dream. Unfortunately the tasty drink finished way too soon and before he knew it, Master Blake was shaking his perfect dick in front of his face and sadly putting it away.

"Thank you so much, Master. It was so good! I'm not worthy of the honor, Sir, you are so good to me..."

"Yeah, yeah..." the straight teenager said distractedly while putting the seat back and trapping the fag's head again.

"I am so grateful to you and all the other Masters to be ablmmmmm..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Master Blake grunted and forced his damp socks back into the stupid faggot's mouth. "There, you're all set." he said looking down at him then added "Oh, and feel free to scream as much as you want. I need to try the noise cancellation on these babies, ok?" He said as he put his headphones on.

The fag's heart was pounding as a whirlwind of emotions ran wildly through his entire body. Then the teenage god sat on the queeredemer. And that was the excruciating beginning of the end.

Number 9 was lovingly folding his masters' laundry as diligently as he possibly could. Everyone was a bit on edge on that particular day. Number 5 was finally coming back to the frat house. It had been about ten days since the `accident'. Yeah, right, everyone kept calling it an accident and that stuck up pink haired slave actually believed it. Number 9 snorted to himself. How fucking clueless. But he knew better. Not that he would ever talk about it with anyone. He minded his own business. His plate was extremely full already. Things with his own two masters had become impossibly hard. Master Alec and Master Kitt were crazy bas... No! Stupid fag! He quickly grabbed the horse whip the masters used with him and hit his own bare ass as hard as he could. The pain relieved the guilt and he felt better. It still happened sometimes. His mind stupidly slipped into his old life. Unacceptable. He still had a long way to go. They were straight gods which automatically gave them the right to do whatever they wanted to him. No fucking limits. He knew that and he accepted it one hundred percent. He had chosen that life after all and loved every bit of it. Well, he loved most of it. The humiliation and the abuse felt so fucking good and just... right. The young fag had never experienced anything like it because even though Master Dillon clearly enjoyed degrading him, he had never been as extreme as his two new owners. To be fair, it was just the extreme physical pain he still had a few problems with. But that didn't matter one bit. He needed to do better, period! Spending the following four years of his pathetic life as a slave in that frat house was pretty much his ONLY ambition in life. He wasn't gonna blow it. He was there to stay.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned around quickly.

"Welcome back, Mast..." he didn't finish greeting Master Kitt because the straight boy slapped him so hard on the face he hit the ground instantly with a thump.

"What up, fag!" the god-like boy said casually.

Number 9 quickly got up on all fours and lowered his face till his forehead touched the floor. He wasn't being punished for screwing up. Not at all. The slap was simply Master Kitt's way of acknowledging his existence. The straight boy pressed one of his heels to the back of the slave's head. He liked to use his head as a lever to pull off his shoes. The first one fell on the floor. "Where's Alec?" he asked as he started pulling off his second sneaker pressing the fag's nose hard to the floor.

"He hasn't come back yet, Sir." the fag promptly answered. Then he lifted his face and used his teeth to pull off his Master's ankle socks. His fag brain welcomed the smell. So powerful. So manly. It kinda felt like he was being brainwashed by it, more and more with each passing day. He doubted he could live without it anymore. He indulged himself for a couple of seconds. This whole little ritual had become so much of a habit lately, it was completely natural to him, now. And for good reasons, since it happened three or four times a day, every single time either one of his Masters got back to the frat.

Master Kitt's phone buzzed as he walked to his bed and threw himself on it.

"Where the fuck are you, bro?" he answered, rubbing his eyes in a childish way.

Number 9 stuffed the damp socks in his mouth and crawled to the hamper.

"No, not yet. But you better be here when it gets here."

Then the fag did the same with his Master's Vans. He had become so good at grabbing them both at the same time with his mouth. They were warm and obviously smelled as strongly as Master's perfect feet.

"Yeah, big bro says it's the first time something like that has happened since he's been here."

The slave put his Master's shoes in the closet and crawled over to him.

"Nah, he says it's gonna be fine. That Blake dude made sure it never missed a dose. Not even once."

And then the tasty treat was finally there for him to enjoy. Master Kitt's feet tasted so wild every single time he licked them clean. They were different from Master Alec's. Not better or worse, just different.

"I guess, but bro says to just stick to the story if anyone asks."

The fag enveloped three of the straight boy's toes in his mouth and coated them with saliva. He liked doing that a whole lot cause it gave him the impression his whole mouth started tasting like straight foot sweat. He moaned ever so softly. Master Kitt lowered his eyes for a second and smirked. God it felt so good to be owned. They could do anything they wanted to him. ANYTHING. He had no control over it and it was just too awesome. He was so lucky to have been assigned to these perfect straight gods.

"It's a pain but I guess it's better than listening to Noah's lecture on `the importance of spreading the ideology'!" Zach Taylor rolled his eyes.

"Hehe! Well, he's kinda right though." Replied Scott, sipping his coke "I mean, I'm not that much into politics but I was gonna vote for him anyway and if I can help people change their mind..." he scratched one of his pits "Besides we're getting paid, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess, but talking to people is such a drag!" Zach stretched and yawned.

Scott simply chuckled and shook his head, amused.

"Hey, by the way, are you still fucking that blond I saw last week?" asked Zach, taking a long puff from his cigarette.

"Yeah..." replied Scott, a little bored "She's not exactly mind blowing but I need to empty my balls every now and then, don't I? Especially now that this fag's sister is not around anymore!" Scott smirked, extremely amused.

"Woah, woah! What? What's this about?" asked Zach.

"Didn't I tell you? I fucked her pretty much all my senior year."

"Haha! For real?" Zach cackled.

"Hehe! You bet! She started following me around like a little puppy right after Thanksgiving, so I ended up popping her cherry right on this faggot's bed! Hahaha!" Scott couldn't stop sniggering. He sounded pretty happy with himself.

"No fucking way, bro! You're making this up!" said Zach enjoying the banter.

"Swear to god, bro!" Scott lifted his hands "She started giving me head at school like three or four times a week, usually after practice in the locker room..." he reminisced "One time we got caught by a second year and she totally freaked out. So I talked her into sucking him off too to buy his silence, hehehe!" he cackled and Zach joined in.

"Haha! Dude, you made that kid's day!"

"You bet! For the rest of the year, he kept looking at me like I was some kinda hero! Haha!" there was so much entertainment in their voices.

"I gotta say she was actually pretty good with her mouth. She sucked like a fucking hoover and she was a toooootal cum guzzler!" he recalled conversationally.

"Hahaha! Love those!" Zach cackled.

"I know, right? You know when they fucking suck it right out of your balls? Mmmmm!! Oh, man!" Scott said satisfied.

"Yeah, bro, that's the fucking best." Agreed the blond pothead.

"Yeah, anyway, sometimes she'd come over to my place on the weekend but after a while I told her it was getting boring..." Scott crossed his arms behind his head "So right on cue, before Christmas break she took me to her house once when everyone was out and she said she was ready to fuck..." he shrugged.

"Yeah, but why on this fucker's bed?" asked Zach, still very entertained.

"Haha! Yeah, that was my idea. Thought it was funny, hehe!"

Freddy was completely and utterly stunned. He couldn't move a muscle, of course. It was an essential part of the job. His knees hurt and so did his back which came to no surprise whatsoever. They were in Scott's room. Well, technically it was his room too, although it didn't feel like it was. It never really had, probably because of all the stuff that happened daily in that place. Right now, for example. He was on all fours, serving as a human footrest for the two brothers he called his Masters, who were chilling and casually talking about how slutty his own little sister was. Now that's not exactly the sort of occurrence that screams `this is my safe place!', does it? To be fair, he wasn't supposed to have heard their conversation. He was wearing headphones and a blindfold. The used socks of the two straight boys were balled up in his mouth and there was tape over his lips. He was supposed to be listening to his daily dose of educational material. But the track had finished a few minutes before which gave him the chance to hear them go on about MAGA stuff and how important it is to support it and then the little snippet about his baby sister. The weird thing was that the only feeling he could recognize in the internal turmoil he was presently living was... well, envy. Towards his sibling. Towards someone who had been able to suck Scott's cock and actually taste and... swallow his cum. Oh, god.

"Does he know?" Zach asked, still snickering.

"Nah, don't think so!" Scott replied "She didn't know how to break it to him since he never could stand me, so she begged me not to say anything." He was annoyingly amused. "Gotta say, also very good at begging."

"Haha! Must run in the family!" quipped Zach.

"Yeah, I guess! Hehe!"

"Oh, man, that's just fucking hilarious! You used one of `em as a fucktoy and the other one as a slave! I'm sure their mom and dad would be reeeeeal proud if they knew! Hehehe!"

Both boys cackled, kinda stupidly

So, yeah. Freddy was indeed stunned. He should have gotten up, freed himself and taught these two misogynistic pricks a thing or two about respect. Should' being the operative word here. As in he knew he was supposed to act that way'. Problem was he had no intention of doing so. None whatsoever. He couldn't stop thinking about his sister sucking off Scott. Hell, even sucking off a random kid just cause she'd been told to. That was way bolder than anything he had ever done. He was actually a little impressed that someone like her could have peaked Scott's interest. Maybe she had acted that slutty exactly for that reason. To get noticed. Oh, fuck. Who cared? The taste in his mouth was making him hornier than ever and the only thing he actually wanted to do was lick their feet. Sick? Totally. But he didn't care. He wanted to do that more than anything. Their legs were heavy on his back but strangely enough he didn't really mind one bit. As much as he would have liked to deny it, it did feel good to be used like that by them. He kept suckling on their used socks. His dick was hard, as always. Morning, afternoon, night, his dick was always hard as fuck which didn't use to be the case before, at least not like that.

"Hey, did you finally let'im give you head?" Zach asked suddenly.

Freddy almost felt the urge to laugh. If only! God, he would have killed for that to happen. He was positive he would have done a much better job than his inexperienced sister.

"Nope!" replied Scott.

"Dude!" Zach snorted, exasperated.

"Started pissing in his mouth, though!" the handsome athlete added defensively.

It was true. Not an entirely unpleasant experience either. Freddy chewed on the socks even more.

"For real? Good job!" Zach sounded impressed "Feels pretty awesome, doesn't it?" his tone changed to amused.

"Well, I don't know bout `awesome' but it sure is funny as fuck! Hehe!" Scott cackled "This stupid fuck keeps looking at me as he swallows my fucking piss... that's just fucking pathetic, man!"

"Hehehe! Oh, totally bro! But you have no idea how handy that shit it! I haven't used a real toilet on campus for over a year, bro!" Zach declared proudly.

"Haha! Yeah, I believe you and I can totally see myself doing that!"

Hang on. What did he mean by that? Over a year? That was just part of the taming, right? That was so confusing.

"Which is why you're the one using him as a footrest right now and he's... well... down there, hehe!" stated Zach.

"Fucking-A-right, bro!" commented Scott.

"Actually, you know what? Now that you mention it..." Zach continued.

Freddy felt one of them move and a hand taking off his headphones rather roughly.

"Hey, fag!" Zach called "Need to piss. You thirsty?"

It was soooo not a question. And Freddy knew it. Even more than that, by now, Freddy knew that giving a haphazard answer was not a wise choice. So, even though he was still a little confused, he started nodding vigorously. The two boys cackled.

"Haha! Well, then, c'mere!" barked Zach.

Scott's feet remained heavily planted on his back as Zach pulled his hair forcing him to turn around. They took off his blindfold and he winced slightly. Zach's impish smirk greeted his eyes. He ripped the tape off his lips. "Spit the socks." the straight boy ordered and he obeyed instantly. He watched Zach unbutton his black skinny jeans and take out his plump, gorgeous dick. "Open." Freddy was ready for the stream to hit the back of his throat. But Zack stuck his dick into his mouth, pushing the back of his head till his nose was buried in his blond pubes. Freddy couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't tasted a dick since the previous summer. His heart raced. The smell of sweat and unwashed crotch filled his brain. It felt so good to have a dick in his mouth he almost choked when Zach actually started to piss. Almost. Getting praise for his skills had become very important to him. So he swallowed and swallowed again. And then again. The few times he had done it with Scott he had been ordered to sit into the shower and the jock had simply directed the stream into his open mouth. This was completely different. He couldn't simply spit or gag. He would have made a mess and he would have been punished for it. Big fucking time. And being alone with Blake literally scared the shit out of him. That guy was terrifying. So he focused on swallowing as fast as he could. Mouthful after mouthful. He didn't love drinking piss but it kinda seemed like a small price to pay to get into the frat. Wait, was that still what he actually wanted? He swallowed again.

"Hey, this bitch ain't even half bad!" Said Zach. Stupidly, Freddy felt a little proud of himself.

"Yeah, I guess." Scott replied kinda smugly "Does whatever the fuck I tell him now."

"Good, you got a shot then!" said Zach. Freddy kept looking up at the boy's face as he continued swallowing his piss. Like Scott had mentioned, looking up at them was something he actually liked doing. There was something about the satisfaction and even the amusement in their face that made him feel... at ease. Especially now that the two boys were ignoring him, literally acting like he was a real urinal. Why did he like that? The taste of piss was acrid and so fucking strong. He felt a little queasy but strangely remained calm enough. He kept swallowing.

"Shot at what?" Scott asked.

"Fuck, I probably shouldn't have said that..." Zach mumbled in his drowsy baritone.

"What are you talking about?" Scott's voice sounded extremely curious now.

"Alright, you didn't hear it from me, though. I can't cope with Noah, dude, he's always on my..."

"Fine, fine! Just tell me!"

Freddy's stomach was getting full of piss now and the stream, although slightly weaker, was still going.

"The guy who trains the best slave gets a ton of money." Zach revealed.

"What?!" Even if he wasn't looking at him, Freddy could tell Scott was now listening for real "How much money?"

"That I actually DON'T know cause nobody will fucking tell me!" vented Zach as he was now finishing. "Two years ago, fucking Justin won but he just won't talk!" he pouted. Freddy swallowed the last of his piss and slowly started suckling on his dick. God it was so good. "And that fucking number 5 wasn't even THAT well trained. I mean, you saw what just happened!"

What was he talking about? Number 5? Who the hell was that? Freddy was Number 8 and that other freshman was Number 9. Who else was there? Were there other guys still doing taming? Why else wouldn't Zach use his real name if this Number 5 was now one of the brothers?

"Yeah, I guess." commented Scott, vaguely "What about last year?"

"Awgh! Don't even get me started on last year!" Zach said, pushing Freddy's face away and tucking his dick back into his pants. Freddy felt like his puppy had just died.

"Thanks for letting me drink your precious piss, Sir!" He said automatically. Zach ignored him completely which strangely added to his arousal.

"This dude, Carter beat both me and Nate, got the fucking prize and then he dropped out after Christmas and moved back to wherever the fuck he was from! What a joke!" snorted Zach.

"Well, alright, bro! WHEN I win, cause I'm sooo winning this, I'll make sure to tell you!" promised Scott cheerfully.

"Hahaha! I'll fucking hold you to that!"

"Haha! Sure thing!"

Freddy's mind suddenly went to something he vaguely remembered seeing on the night of the very first party at the frat house. Cameron and Noah were using two guys as urinals. Exactly like Zack had just done with him. How could he have forgotten something like that? And what did that mean, exactly?

"I AM handling it, dad! It's gonna be fine!"

Number 1 swallowed a few more hairs that had gotten stuck on its tongue.

"Yes! Of course I did!"

Master Cameron's tone was annoyed. Number 1 gave another long lick to his ass. The straight god's cracks were covering the fag's entire face and that pathetic excuse for a slave was treasuring every second of that sublime treat. It liked it when Master used the ass chair because it embodied the perfect picture of how the life of straight gods and fag slaves should be. The former relaxing on a modified deckchair after football practice and the latter licking the sweat and grime off the god's ass.

"Dad, do you think I'm stupid, or something? Of course the fag's been drugged this whole time! Every single day, twice the regular dose!"

The smell of man-sweat and the rancid taste in its mouth were causing Number 1 extreme pain, because of his cock cage. But it wouldn't have changed any of it for the world. Its life was quite frankly incredible. No other fag in the world had ever had a greater honor. Master Cameron was pure and utter perfection. And this unworthy fag had been chosen to serve him.

"For the last time, I didn't give him permission to go that far! That moron's got no fucking brain!" The phone call was getting heated. "I know I'm supposed to keep everybody in check. Thank you very much for reminding me!" Master Cameron mumbled through gritted teeth.

That whole Number 5 incident had put everybody in a bad mood. That slave had always caused problems and this time it had been extremely inconsiderate. Number 1 gave another hungry lick from the straight god's taint up to his asshole. It suckled it a bit, swallowing some tasty spit.

"Look, Denton took care of all the medical stuff. He said the operation went fine and the fag's gonna be fine..."

Doctor Jim Denton was a surgeon in a private clinic not far away from campus. He was an alumni and had been a frat brother there. He had graduated summa cum laude about fifteen years before and had left a hefty number of voice recordings that were now part of the fag bible. Of course he had been the first person the masters had called.

"And fags don't need balls, dad! Remember? You taught me that when I was, like, eight!" Number 1 let its tongue slide up ever so slowly. "Ah, man! Will you relax? It's not gonna breathe a word of it to anybody." More hairs got stuck on its tongue. "Because I had my slave personally brainwash the shit outta him."

Number 1 could definitely see why Master Cameron thought of what it had done to Number 5 as `brainwashing', but to Number 1 it was simply being honest. All it had done was visit the fag three times a day and tell it how lucky it had been to receive that particular treatment. It simply made everything easy. And it made so much more sense than irrationally complaining about the loss of both its balls. It was actually kinda funny cause what Master Cameron had just said was absolutely true. Why would fags ever need balls? They're not allowed to cum. Ever. It's one of the rights they instantly lose for being born inferior, subhuman. Like their freedom or the right to decide what's wrong and what's right. Besides the physical pain this particular rule causes them is also part of the entertainment they provide to the straight gods they serve. So complaining about it would be completely unreasonable. It didn't take a genius to understand that.

"Yeah... yeah, I know..." Master Cameron sounded slightly meeker now. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen, dad. You have my word..." Number 1 kept lapping the delicious musk its master was kind enough to feed it. "Ok... I'll keep you posted... yeah... ok, bye..." the phone call ended.

"Fuuuuuck!!!" Master Cameron kicked the fag's balls with his heel. The pain Number 1 felt was so strong it couldn't help screaming. Of course its master's ass was pressing so hard onto its face nothing really came out. "You better not have fucked this up faggot, or I swear to god, what Blake did to that fucking cunt is gonna look like a love tap, compared to what I'mma do to you, you hear me?" Master Cameron got up from the chair and stood on the fags chest, looking down at him. He was livid. There was a mixture of disgust and hatred in his perfect green eyes "No, you know what? If this cunt causes me ANY trouble I'm getting rid of your queer ass. I'mma throw you out and find a replacement I can actually use before fucking dinner!!!" Another kick, even stronger than the previous one. But the utter panic was way, way stronger than the pain. This was all Number 5's fault. No question about it.

Justin Oakland was flipping through Instagram, chilling in the AC of the large entrance hall. A few new girls had started following him and he was deciding if he was going to fuck them or not. But he couldn't really focus. He was a bit pensive. He had been for a few days, now. All in all, he didn't consider himself to be a bad kid. Why would he? Some people said he was uber spoiled cause his dad was loaded but whatever... Ok, maybe a little spoiled. But still, that didn't make him a bad kid. He was a good friend to his buddies and he loved his family even though he probably loved pussy way more. Not girls. Pussy. There was a difference. He didn't have anything against girls but he didn't want them around all the time. He just wanted to stick his dick into their body holes. And boy did he! EVERY single chance he got. He only had to choose, to be fair. He was, to put it mildly, gorgeous and was well aware of it. He had been told so since he was seven and had no problem whatsoever using his looks to land, well... pretty much any girl he wanted. He had been doing so since junior high, actually and had zero regrets. He was a total player. For sure! He wouldn't even try to deny it. But did that make him a bad kid? Of course not! He was a good person! He didn't treat anyone badly unless they deserved it. Well, slaves, of course but those didn't count. They weren't people. They were more like things guys like him owned. Besides, those fucking faggots loved everything they did to them. Every single nasty thing. And even if they didn't, why the fuck would that matter? It was simply right to treat them the way they did. They were inferior, after all. They weren't born like him or the other brothers. They were born to serve, it was simple, really. No rights, just obligations. They weren't even on the same level as, say, animals. Cause you CAN feel sorry for an animal whereas... well, let's just say Justin had never felt sorry for a faggot. The current situation was no exception. He was the one who had sent Number 5 to Blake. Dude, that guy had some serious issues. He was a psycho! But regardless, Number 5 had only itself to blame for losing his balls. That stupid queer should have finished cleaning his room before he came back. What a fucking useless slave! Balless slave, now. Justin found himself snickering. The more he thought about it, the funnier it got. They had all seen the video, of course and even though Blake might have gone too far, every one of them had laughed their balls off when the fag had begged Blake to sit on the queerredemer. Stupid fucking faggot.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and here they were. Waiting for the slave to come back to the frat. They had drugged the shit out of it and Number One had been sent to do the right amount of brainwashing ever since that day. Yet everybody was on edge. There was nothing really stopping the fag from going to the police or whatever and literally destroy everything several generations of brothers had worked to build. Justin didn't even wanna think of a life without slaves at his beck and call. It was ridiculous, really. Yeah, there was nothing stopping the fag from ruining everything. Except of course the ton of incriminating shit they had on it. Some real, most of it fabricated. But it didn't matter, Justin had a feeling the fag was gonna choose the right thing to do. It had had time to think about it, it wasn't gonna fuck it up, cause after all what other purpose would its life have?

"That's 23 bucks."

Number 5 paid the driver and got out of the cab. It was another warm and sticky afternoon in sunny Miami. Pi Kappa Alpha was right in front of the slave's eyes. It looked at the building it had spent the last two and a half years living in. There was a smile of serene blissfulness on its face which perfectly matched the calm it felt inside. So many things had happened in the previous two weeks, things other people would probably perceive as life changing. Yet, it was smiling. It couldn't help it, really because its eyes had been finally opened for good. So, in a way, what had happened had been life changing. Either way, it was positively elated to be back home. True, there was a ridiculous amount of fag drug running through its system which probably helped a little, but the feeling was completely genuine. One hundred percent! Yeah, that was the only real home it had ever had which was probably the deepest, most important thing it had learned in the time spent in the hospital. It definitely wasn't the only one though. It still couldn't believe the fact that no less than two Masters had taken the time to visit it. Well, it was a little more complicated than that. Master Blake had come everyday. Every single day. Number 5 realized how unbelievably overwhelming all that was. Master Blake was a straight god! His life was important and his time was extremely valuable and coming to visit a stupid fucking slave, even just to shove one of those green pills down its throat and leave... Well, it was an honor Number 5 simply did not deserve, plain and simple. But the slave was grateful. So fucking grateful. The master had seemed to be in a noticeably bad mood though. He would simply show up, grab its jaw and force it open. The first day he grumbled something on the lines of "Open your fucking mouth, faggot!". Number 5 wasn't certain of the wording because he had just been operated on and it was groggy and pretty out of it. But then he even stopped talking altogether. He'd show up, maybe slap the fag's face, make it swallow the pill and leave. Obviously what saddened the slave the most was that, unlike usual, the straight god wasn't really having fun.

A different story was the doctor who had removed the slave's balls and had taken such good care of the fag. Master Jim. Number 5 had first laid eyes on him the day after it had been taken to the hospital.

"Wake up, faggot!" was the first thing he had ever said to Number 5. He was a very handsome man, maybe early thirties but he looked younger. Bright blue eyes, blond hair, a short beard and a smirk that was so incredibly familiar. "So, I stopped the bleeding and patched you up but i had to sever a few nerves which is gonna make pissing very unpleasant from now on." he had informed it, quite amused "Oh, and of course I had to remove what remained of your tiny balls which I'm sure it's gonna make your fag ass super happy!" he had chuckled then the doctor had grabbed its jaw and said "Now listen to me, you stupid fuck! I'll give you one week before kicking your fag ass outta here! You're fucking taking up space and there are people whose lives actually matter that might need this bed, you understand?"

The slave had nodded and whispered "Yes, Sir."

"Good bitch! I suggest you use this time to think about how much you screwed up and aaaaall the ways you're gonna make it up to your masters."

The slave had taken to heart every syllable of what he had said, of course.

And then on day two, Number 1 had started showing up, pretty much every five hours. It was a slave so its time was worthless and most importantly it didn't belong to it. Which meant that the masters had sent it. Another honor Number 5 didn't deserve. They talked about what had happened and Number 1 made absolutely sure the junior slave understood how lucky it had been to have been chosen for that honor. It had lost its balls, the last shred of its inexistant masculinity had been finally torn away from it so it could embrace its worthless existence for good. That had opened its eyes even wider. Master Blake had been so generous. Then, like Master Jim had suggested, they tried to find the highest possible number of ways it could repent and make up for all its screw ups. Over and over and over and over again. They had also recited passages from the Book of Fags. But what had taken up almost all of its waking time was listening to the sacred collection of required listening on the app. Number 1 had strongly suggested he should listen to all those recordings every moment he was not sleeping.

Its parents had barely showed up but it was expecting that. Coming out as a fag to them had been the most unpleasant experience. They had never looked at it the same way. The only real relationship it had with them was through money. They were happy to pay for everything as long as they had as little contact with it as possible. But that mattered very little to it. The masters had found a purpose for its worthless life. That's why Number 5 couldn't help considering Pi Kappa Alpha the only place where it had ever belonged.

He took a long, deep breath. This was it. It was time to go home.

Freddy was still recovering from the scene he had witnessed a few days before. He was rushing to the kitchen to get Master Scott and Master Zach cold drinks when one of the juniors had walked into the common room. Freddy couldn't remember his name but it was that dude that had been brought to the hospital after that weird accident a couple of weeks before. From what he had been able to gather they had had to remove his balls because of the fall and together with them his dignity, apparently. Freddy had watched him walk straight to Master Justin, kneel down, face to the floor and apologize shamelessly for all the time the master had had to wait for him to return. There were a few other guys in the room and after a few seconds they had all started laughing loudly, including Master Cameron, the head of the frat who had put his foot on the guy's head and said something like: took you long enough to understand your place in life, faggot! But don't worry, I'm sure you'll make up for it!' Then he had slapped the side of his face with his foot and shouted welcome home, bitch!!' which had fueled tons of extra cackling by the jock pack.

That was absurd. It couldn't be part of the taming. That guy had already gone through it the previous year so what the hell was that? Why on earth was he acting like that? Why was he letting them treat him like that? Freddy was no prude of course and he could understand that the guy might actually have a fetish of some kind. He had discovered quite a few kinks himself lately. But that was pushing it a little. The guy was obviously not dating Justin and besides, those things were supposed to stay in the bedroom. And yet there he was still acting like a slave of, Freddy imagined, his own free will. Who would choose to do so? What about his pride?

Yeah, like you have room to talk!' the little voice inside him said You are as addicted to this shit as that guy. The only difference is that he had the guts to admit it!'

Freddy scratched his cheek uncomfortably. He was licking the sole of Master Scott's muddy cleat which was the worst part. The top of his footwear he didn't mind but the bottom, well... Swallowing the mud was pretty hard. Especially since Master Scott had lectured him on the importance of eating ALL the mud, without removing the bulk of it with a stick or something because, apparently, doing that didn't really scream please let me lick your feet, Sir!' enough. Freddy snorted before swallowing another mouthful of mud. It was gross, but all in all he figured it was a small price to pay to be able to lick Scott's feet. Yeah, that feeling was the best, as much as he hated to admit it. It truly, TRULY was. Scott called it his fag snack' and wasn't exactly generous in granting him the sought after treat. On the contrary, he made him work extremely hard to get it.

He sighed wistfully. This whole situation was majorly fucked up. Things had changed so much in the last few weeks. Especially the way he looked at things. At life! Fuck, was he even the same guy? What had they all done to him? To his principles? Why was he even doing all that? What was he trying to prove? Scott had gotten into his head big fucking time with his questions on whether or not he would have liked to give up the slave thing. Did he even hate all that anymore, considering he was cumming every time Scott humiliated him in any way? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Every single thought was so confused in his mind. He hadn't had a clear head since this whole thing had begun. It was like his brain was always plunged in fog, which was a first for him. He had always known what was right and what was wrong. Everything had always been crystal clear, no doubt. And now it was hard to focus on nothing but the stupidly gorgeous half-naked boys that walked around that frat every single fucking day. It kinda felt like he was constantly giving in to his most pervy urges, urges he didn't even realize he had before. Like this foot thing. He had always been the bottom in his relationships, always a little on the sub side and he had never disliked a bit of roughness in his partner but this was something else. It was like his dormant will to submit had been awakened. Because that was the whole point. Licking Scott's (or everybody else's) feet was a way to submit, like the piss drinking. Freddy would have never admitted it, but he knew deep down that weird will had always been there even though he had never, EVER allowed it to come out and play. He actually hated that part of himself. Hence, the aggressive pride as a defense mechanism to hide it to everyone, in hopes it would eventually disappear.

"Yeah, fat chance." he mumbled to himself with a bitter smile.

He examined the cleat in his hand. He had done a pretty good job. He could start with the second one.

"So, you gonna do it now?" Noah Hoffman, the VP, asked Scott.

"Might as well." the freshman shrugged as they were walking back from jogging, together with Cliff Jensen, the treasurer.

"Can't believe none of us had thought of that. It's fucking brilliant!" Cliff chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well, considering how political that bitch has always been, this is gonna be fun! Hehe!" Scott snickered.

"Like he said, fucking brilliant!" Noah repeated, then added "IF you can pull it off, that is!"

Scott snorted, as cockily as he could.

"Wanna tag along?" he then asked.

"Can't, I need to get to the student's office before they close!" Noah checked his watch.

"I will!" said Cliff.

"Alright, you guys have fun and let me know how it goes!" Noah waved his goodbye and bounced.

"Hey, fag! I'm back!" Freddy had literally just finished cleaning his Master's cleats. He looked up from the floor and smiled. Cliff was with him. They were both drenched in sweat.

"Hi, Master! How was your running?" the gay boy crawled over to him and started removing his sneakers.

"Pretty good! Hot as fuck though!" the shoes came off and Freddy kissed the top of his moist socked feet.

"I'm happy you had fun, Master." he said, automatically turning to Cliff and adding "May I take your shoes off, Master Cliff?"

"Sure, fag!" was the reply and as Freddy acted immediately, Master Scott had already thrown himself on his king-size.

"Your cleats are clean and ready for tomorrow's practice, Sir." Freddy informed his gorgeous roommate who was looking at his phone and distractedly smirked and replied:

"What a good faggot you are."

Freddy smiled, pretty proud of himself. Master Scott caught his expression and easily read it. He snorted and shook his head.

"Go on, you can have your fag snack."

Freddy couldn't believe his luck. He looked up at his Master like a kid on Christmas day and went:

"For real, Sir?"

The two straight boys in the room exchanged an amused look. Then Scott gave him an up nod.

"Tell Cliff why you like licking my feet so much, fag!" he said.

"Well... I..." Freddy stumbled on the words. it was one thing to admit it to Scott... "They taste really, really good..." he said bashfully.

They cackled.

"Do they? Hehe!" said Scott entertained "Even when they're all sweaty? Like now?" the straight boy crossed his feet at the ankles.

"Yes, Sir! Especially then, Sir!" Freddy replied impulsively which made them cackle even more.

"Lick those fucking feet till I tell you to stop!" Scott ordered.

"Yes, Sir!" Freddy replied, launching himself forward "Thank you so much, Sir! It's vrgnrssl..." he started to pull his socks off with his teeth but he really wanted to convey how grateful he was.

"Don't fucking talk with your mouth full, bitch!" Scott and Cliff were making fun of him in a pretty humiliating way and Freddy couldn't ask for anything better. The smell of his master's feet was already driving his actions like he was on autopilot. It was impossible to resist. And then his wet tongue touched the heel of those perfect feet and it was kinda like getting a fix.

"So, listen up, fag! I need you to do something for me." Scott said conversationally.

"Yeshhh, Shhir! Anythin'..." Freddy replied distractedly while lapping voraciously.

"Good answer! Hehehe! You see, the brothers and I need to see how serious you are about joining the frat..." the gorgeous jock started "That is IF you still wanna join the..."

"Yeshh, Shhir!!!!" That was the whole point. He really would have done anything for it.

"Alright, then! I know how much you are into fag rights and shit..." Scott continued "Now, while we were out running we noticed there's some anti-fag-rights students group trying to raise money for their cause near the library... you know what I'm talking about?"

Freddy's mind was trying really hard to concentrate on the straight boy's words but the taste in his mouth was making his own rock-hard dick pulsate so fucking much.

"Uhm...ok... yes..." he managed to reply to something that would have previously made him go ballistic. He stuck his tongue between the jock's toes.

"I want you to walk over there right now..." Scott explained "Tell them you're a faggot freak and that you understand how disgusting and inferior you are..." Freddy's confusion grew even more "...and then I want you to get on your knees and beg them to let you help them in any way they want."

Now, that was weird. For the first time in weeks a slight resemblance of clarity came back to light Freddy's mind.

"W... what?" he asked, more out of reflex than a real need.

"You heard me, fag." Scott was smirking serenely, his arms crossed behind his head "I mean, what's the big deal? Are we still pretending that you're NOT inferior to me? To US straight guys, I mean?"

"I'm... I'm not..." Freddy said with a small voice.

Scott shrugged.

"Fine! If you think you're my equal, then stop licking my feet. It's fucking disgusting." Scott said casually and Freddy realized that he hadn't even paused for a second. He felt his face grow red with embarrassment.

"I... I..." God, why was it so fucking hard?

"You... you... what?" pressed Scott. He wasn't smiling anymore.

Freddy's next words, although they came out so natural, they made him feel even more embarrassed.

"I can't, Sir... I still haven't finished licking them clean for you, Sir..."

Cliff chuckled and Scott smirked again.

"Another good answer, fag! Hehehe!" Scott praised him "But that's not the only reason, is it? You don't WANNA stop cause we both know that licking the sweat off my feet after I'm done training is the the fucking highlight of your day." It wasn't a question. The straight boy was simply stating facts.

Freddy didn't reply, he simply continued licking those feet.

"Now, THAT is beyond fucking pathetic AND it definitely makes you inferior." Again, not a question. Freddy couldn't bring himself to reply. Scott smirked even wider "Good, glad we cleared that up!"

Freddy swallowed hard. How could he ever have gotten to that point? Sure, a lot had happened in the past few weeks but this was... He wasn't even the same person! He had done a 180, personality wise. What had happened to the super proud gay boy who stood for what was right? He was getting angry now. More at himself than anything else.

"Now, do you need me to repeat your assignment?" Scott asked smug as fuck.

Freddy simply shook his head.

"Good, then let's..."

"I'm not doing it."

Scott wasn't expecting that.

"What did you just say to me, fag?" he sat up. He noticed the bitch had even stopped licking and was now getting up.

"I am not doing any of that..." the bitch's voice was low but steady. What the hell was going on? Did this fag cunt still have a shred of pride?

"Alright, I'm willing to let this one go if you get on the floor and beg me to forgive you." Scott said in a very dangerous tone.

The fag shook his head stubbornly.

"I don't care what you do to me. I'm not betraying everything I've always believed in." he was balling up his girly fists "So do your worst! Even if you send me to Blake I'll..."

"Do you really think Blake is the worst that can happen to you, fag?"

Cliff's voice sounded extremely amused and they both turned to look at him. The knowing smirk on his face matched his tone.

"W... well... I... just..." the fag stuttered.

"Let me ask you a question. How much does your dear daddy make a year?" even Scott frowned slightly. It was a completely random question.

"W... what? What does that even..." the fag started but he got cut off.

"Just answer the fucking question, fag!"

"Uhm... I... I don't know exactly... like 50k I guess... wh..."

"Wrong. He makes about three times as much." Cliff stated "157k to be precise."

"What are you talking about?" the fag couldn't look more confused.

"You wouldn't know that obviously cause he `generously donates' 100k to the frat." he used his fingers to make quote signs.

"What?" God that annoying high-pitched voice of his.

"Yeah, he's been forking over sixty percent of his salary since his first job." Cliff said "It's standard for frat's slaves."

The expression on the fag's face was priceless. He had a weird, incredulous smile.

"I... You... I've no idea what you're talking about but it's not funny..."

"Oh, believe me it's hilarious!" Cliff chuckled "That little bitch you call daddy served here from 88 till 92 doing aaaaall the super funny things you get to do now and more!"

Yeah, incredulity was probably the only perceivable expression on the fag's face.

"Y... You don't know shit about my dad... how dare..."

"Don't I? Let's see..." Scott watched Cliff scroll through his phone "Born in 1970 in Granville, Ohio, Social Security Number 555-50-2734, raised in Jacksonville, went to Riverside High and majored in IT right here. Started working at SevoTec in 94 and married Janet Girth in 97..." Cliff's tone was kinda bored "Oh, here's a nice pic of him!"

He turned his phone to them. There was an old photo of a white bitch of about his own age kneeling on the floor with his mouth open and his eyes looking at the camera. He was completely naked and someone had used a sharpie to write fag', bitch', `slave' and a few more choice words on his body. Three guys were pissing in his gaping mouth and he just stood there. He was even wearing a cock cage. The look of the pink haired fag had changed to pure horror. Scott knew his dad had been a slave there but he didn't know they had pics. Although he could have guessed so.

"N... No... that's... not real..." the bitch whispered.

Cliff simply shrugged.

"You're free to think so but we're getting a little sidetracked, here." He said putting down his phone "You see, daddy dear has been sending us tributes for exactly 30 years. Now, suddenly this year he said he didn't wanna keep paying anymore. Problem is, you don't simply stop paying. Pi Kappa Alpha Slaves are for life. There is only one way out, although I gotta say I had never seen it before and, as far as I know, it's only happened twice before since `68." Scott didn't know what he was talking about but was listening super closely, extremely entertained. "M.O.K.... meaning Money Over Kid."

Freddy was completely speechless. He couldn't even stutter anymore. Lies, lies, lies! They were all lies, they had to be! How did he know all that stuff about his dad, though? And the pic, that was obviously a fake. It looked old and authentic but it had to have been photoshopped or something. But where the hell did they find a pic of his dad as a college freshman? Maybe there was some kind of archive in the frat. God, it was so confusing. So this taming bullshit was all a scam? They actually had slaves? What the actual fuck? And his dad! He had been a brother there. That's all he had heard since he was born. That it had been the greatest experience of his whole life and he had always wanted his own son to follow in his footsteps. Why was he supposed to believe a guy he barely knew over his own father? And what the hell was this M.O.K. shit?

"Look, I'm serious, stop this! I have no idea what you're talking about or even why you're doing this but my father..." Freddy started.

"Your father sold you to the frat in exchange for stopping sending us dough." Cliff said in a very simple and direct tone.

"What?" Freddy and Scott said at the same time, though with completely different intonations. Sheer incredulity versus amusing entertainment.

"Yep! He said after all these years, he finally wants to enjoy a little money and that it's now your turn to do your part for the frat." Cliff said "Like I said `Money Over Kid'!"

Freddy was shaking his head.

"No... You... That's not possible..." Freddy had a nervous laugh in his voice.

"How do you even sell your kid?" asked Scott, genuinely curious.

"Well, he gave us tons of dirt on him, basically." replied Cliff.

"Like what? Thought this fag was squeaky clean!"

"Oh, you'd be surprised." said Cliff "With the shit we got, we can blackmail him for life, cause I don't think he wants to go to jail, do you fag?"

Freddy was now panicking like he never had before. His heart was pounding. He couldn't have. It was bullshit. Cliff was clearly bluffing. His father was a strict but loving man. This was completely absurd, it was a prank, clearly. He was half expecting someone to shout "Gotchaaaaa!! Sucker!!" But no one spoke.

"If you don't stop this now, I'mma call the police!" Fredy said through gritted teeth.

"Hahaha!! Go `head!! Hahaha! Let's see what they have to say bout your hacker days, hehe!!" Cliff chuckled.

Fredy looked at him with bulging eyes. The nightmares he had had for months had just become reality.

"No way. The fag's a hacker?" Scott's amused tone did nothing to soothe his despair.

"Well, you see, it's pretty long and super fucking nerdy. Not sure I get it either but I'll give you the Cliff Notes version." said Cliff scratching one of his pecs "So, basically, teen pinkhair, here, thought he was the shit when it came to techy stuff so he spent aaaaall his free time in the deepweb and got friendly with a group of homo activists that promised him to fight for all the rights these fags want. Turns out they were actual hackers who fucked him over and used his ip as a gateway to siphon American intel to whoever was willing to pay." It was a very, very simplistic recap of what had happened two and a half years before but, all in all, Cliff was not wrong.

"You gotta be shitting me!" commented Scott.

"Nope!" replied Cliff "Things got pretty fucking bad. The whole thing escalated to national security level and the feds got involved. That's when fag senior, who's actually quite the computer wiz did whatever the fuck he did to shut it down and delete all the data they needed to track fag junior down." he was talking about it like it was the plot of a movie. "Did I tell it right, fag?" Cliff finally asked.

Freddy swallowed hard. He was literally living his nightmares. No, not even in his most terrifying nightmares his own father had sold him out like this. His body reacted on its own. He found himself nodding silently while there were now tears running down his cheeks.

"No fucking way!" commented Scott who was now looking angrily at him "What the fuck faggot? Selling our country's secrets? For real?"

"I didn't mean to..." Freddy sobbed "You have to believe me, I would never..."

"Yeah, yeah, tell someone who cares." said Cliff "Anyways, turns out your dad didn't destroy the data, after all. He kept all of it and waited for you to start college here to use it as a bargaining chip." then he snickered "Gotta say, I didn't think you could get more pathetic but, hey, I stand corrected, hehe!"

Freddy felt his knees give in to the weight of his own body and fell on his ass. He kept shaking his head silently, crying, hyperventilating.

"Can you imagine being sold into slavery for life by your own parent?" The question was for Scott who was now cringing theatrically, clearly finding this whole thing extremely entertaining.

"Uuuuhhh! That must suck, bro!" Scott replied, snickering.

"Right?" laughed Cliff.

Freddy's life as he knew it was over. Just like that, in an instant. It wasn't a prank. They were not bullshitting him. It really seemed like Cliff was telling the truth.

"Well! My work here's done, bro! Pretty sure you can take it from here, right?" Cliff asked Scott.

"You bet!" Scott replied as they fist bumped.

"Oh and, by the way, goes without saying that if you tell anyone or run away or do anything else WE don't like, we leak the evidence in a second, understood?" he stood up from the couch as Freddy nodded, absolutely terrified "Aren't you happy that you're `LEGACY', faggot?" the tall jock laughed and spit right on his forehead. Then he left with a "Later, bro!"

"Later!" Scott said distractedly. Freddy felt his eyes on him as Cliff's spit was running down his face, mixed with his tears.

Freddy swallowed hard again before finding the courage to lift his gaze and meet the eyes of the handsome boy who had definitely had a part in changing his life. He was still sitting comfortably on the bed. The words Freddy spoke next came directly from his shattered heart.

"Help me... please..." he whispered. There was so much grief and agony in his broken voice even he was surprised by it.

"Help you?" Scott frowned as he ran a hand through his damp hair "Even if I wanted to, and for the record I soooo fucking don't..." he started in the very pragmatic tone Freddy had come to know so well "...but even if I did, I don't see how." He shrugged "Besides there is NOTHING for me to gain if I help you, I mean, think about it..." the boy's chill attitude was petrifying "Right now, I pretty much own a slave, like a real one, someone who'll do whatever I say and for the next four years is gonna make my life a HELL OF A LOT easier and WAAAAY more fun. If I `help' you, I lose that privilege." He spread his hands like he was making such an obvious point it was ludicrous "C'mon, dude! There's no way in hell I would ever mess that up and I gotta say it's totally selfish of you to even ask!"

Freddy couldn't believe what he was hearing even though at some level he was kind of expecting a similar answer. So it WAS all a scam! He had been trying so hard for the past few weeks thinking that there was a real chance for him to become a brother in the Fraternity his father had been... His father. A sudden chilling pain in his gut.

"P... please, Scott... my life... it's..." Freddy stammered.

"Your life is EXACTLY how it should be, faggot! How long will it take for you to understand that?" His tone was mildly annoyed, like he was scolding a very stupid child "You are a FAGGOT! You're disgusting, you're scum, you were born for this." Scott explained looking right into his eyes "Serving ME is the ONLY thing that will ever give your life some meaning, can't you see? How dumb are you?" Scott's handsome face was so close to his own now "You're literally hooked on my foot sweat and you know that in less than a week you'll be begging me to piss down your throat like ten times a day, cause you won't be able to live without it. Just like you can't wait to slobber on my sweaty balls or even my fucking ass, every single time I let you, Jesus Christ!" he kept going and Freddy couldn't say a single word "And I've been SO nice to you, you should be thanking me! God, you should be thanking me so fucking much, you have no idea!" Scott got suddenly more irked "Do you really think the other guys treat their slaves the way I treat you? Huh?" he pressed "Well, they don't! Why don't you ask your little friend, number 9? Do you even know what those two do to him?" he said, apparently referring to the other freshmen "I have been nothing but nice to you! And this is how you repay me? Embarrass me in front of one of my brothers?"

"N... no... I... I didn't..."

"Yeah, I don't care!" Scott cut him off "Bottom line is I don't care about any of your shit, fag, you understand me? All I care about is having a foot-licking, piss-drinking little bitch at my beck and call, doing my chores for me and serving me hand and foot for as long as I fucking want." Scott was back to being chill and practical, "And guess what? I got one. You. And why? Cause I fucking deserve it just like you deserve the life you got, fag."

So much information. Way too much to process. Freddy's brain was in a state of utter chaos. Pretty much everything he had ever heard or believed about the frat and his own father had been a lie. How do you react to that? He kept staring at Scott without speaking. Tears kept silently running down his cheeks. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Then Scott rolled his eyes.

"Stop fucking crying, bitch!" he ordered "Why do you even look so miserable? You LOVE being my bitch. I know it. You know it. Every single guy in this frat knows it! This is just a way of making it a little more official." Devastatingly practical Scott "I told you, it's what you were born for and I'll bet my ass deep down you know that what I'm saying is one hundred percent true!"

Another moment of silence. Freddy was mentally exhausted. He couldn't have spoken even if he'd known what to say. The young jock stood up from the bed and slapped the back of Freddy's head on his way to the minibar. Freddy heard a can being opened.

"Here, drink this! It'll make you feel better." Scott handed him the cold drink and Freddy took the can from his hand automatically. He started drinking without thinking. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. Somehow that fizzy drink always seemed to calm him and calm was the only thing he wanted right now. His brain was broken. He didn't wanna think about anything and orders were so much easier to handle than making decisions. So he kept chugging. The taste was soothing. It was like slowly being lulled into a very dangerous sense of safety that was unfortunately too enticing to resist.

Scott sat back on his bed. There was silence again for maybe a minute. Then the straight boy spoke.

"Are you done licking my feet?" he asked, changing the subject in such a sleek way.

All in all, Freddy's answer came almost automatically.

"I... I don't think I've cleaned them properly yet, Sir..." Again, being subservient was so easy. Or it came easy to him, anyway.

"Well, you can continue after you've completed your assignment." Scott said then added "Now, what was your assignment, again, fag?"

Freddy took a deep breath and the words started leaving his mouth.

"I'm to walk to the anti-LGBT stand near the library, get on my knees, tell `em I'm a disgusting, inferior faggot and beg them to let me help them raise money for their cause."

Scott simply smirked.

"Good, fag!"