Our first pledge class meeting was uneventful, except that I was elected pledge class secretary and Nick Cagle, the best looking blonde in the bunch, was chosen president. After the expected stuff stressing pledge class unity, working together, and brotherhood, the meeting ended with an ominous note to return to the frat house two nights later, and each pledge was told to bring a ruler and a rubber,
As we left the frat, we huddled together worried about the next meeting - and especially about the possible uses of the rulers and rubbers. Several pledges thought the rubbers might be needed if the brothers forced us to prove our "manhood" by screwing a campus slut, but events proved them wrong.
The frat member's attitude was very different when we returned two days later, and they hurried us into the party room for our first line-up. Our pledge trainer, who had been our suppposed confident and friend earlier, led the active's yelling and taunting, and tried to get us to do push-ups in unison. Although all of the pledges were athletic and in good shape, none of us had ever exercised in unison before, and our efforts were pitiful.
After we were all wet with sweat, the frat president gave a short speech on knowing our pledge brothers, helping any with problems, and sharing. Knowing our pledge brothers, in this frat, meant very intimately, we would learn.
Our president, Nick, was called out and questioned on how well he knew the pledges. He stumbled through questions about our names, hometowns, dorms, and majors, but the big one stumped him:
"Who's the best man in the pledge class?" asked the president.
"Who's the best man?" yelled the president.
"Who's the best man?" screamed all of the actives.
Nick started mumbling something about all of the pledges being good men, but laughter quickly drowned out the answer.
"The best man in this sorry bunch," yelled the president, "has the longest dick," and we quickly saw where this was headed and why we had each brought a ruler.
Nick was ordered to line up the pledges according to dick size, but except for two other pledges from his home town, he was clueless. The actives kept yelling for him to do something, so he lined up the nine of us by height, and he stepped into the third-tallest spot. The actives went crazy, calling us stupid and unable to do anything, and we all did about 50 more push-ups.
The president quieted the actives, looked over the line, and ordered me, the secretary, to step out. I was told to do the same thing, and as I started to move he added "and you may grope `em."
Of course, I had been dreaming about my pledge brothers and was hoping to do more than grope them through their jeans, I put on my hetro face and acted like touching their jeans was terrible. My touching gave me few clues, though, except for three who seemed to have bigger bulges. I'd also heard that boys with big feet have big dicks, and I moved up two who had large shoe sizes. I stepped into the line after the big bulges and the big shoe boys.
Immediately all hell broke loose, as my line was ridiculed. Another 50 push-ups for us.
Our pledge vice-president, Chris, was called out next, and he grimaced when the yelling stopped and he was told he had to do a better job and he could put his hand inside each pledge's fly. As he reluctantly unzipped the first fly, another surprise was uncorked.
"Are your hands sterile?, asked the frat president? From the back of the room came a full ice chest. He had to sterilize his hands in the icy water before touching anybody. This started another round of screaming and yelling by the amused actives, but Chris quickly tried to get started. His cold hands on pledge Winston's dick produced some screams too.
Watching Chris feeling a pledge brother's dick, with ice cold hands, proved to be a great amusement to the brothers, but Chris' line was about the same as the previous one, and didn't meet the brothers' fancy, so we did 50 more nearly-in-unison push-ups.
From the end of the pledge line, brothers then picked JR, the smallest and shyest of the pledges, to put the line in order, We all knew what was coming, when we were ordered out of our jeans and underwear, to make it "easier for JR", according to the actives. Only JR kept his clothes on, although his tented levis gave away his interest.
Each pledge was ordered to put his ruler under his dick, and JR started yelling out each man's length. A few of the first ones were still fairly flacid, and yelling out their measurements produced a stream of catcalls, suggestions to de-pledge `em, and laughter. I was fifth in line, and had one of my biggest-ever boners, and proudly heard JR say "six inches," nearly putting me among the contenders for "best man".
A demand for "pledge class unity" made me even hotter and harder, as the pledge trainer claimed it wasn't fair that five pledges still weren't hard. The solution. which I eagerly jumped to, was for the hard pledges to help their flacid friends, and I quickly fondled Parker, the not-so-well-hung pledge on my right. My fondling and jacking got him hard, but he couldn't match my six inches.
The still embarassed and fully-clothed JR then put the pledges, still supporting their dicks with rulers, in order, with Gabe and his seven inches the apparent "best man." I was fifth.
The harassment of the shy JR took another step, when the pledge trainer asked JR how big his dick was. "Where would you fit in the line, JR?"
He tried to say he didn't know, and the brothers jacked up the stakes. "Would you prove you love the fraternity and your pledge brothers by jerking them all off?"
Before he stumbled into an answer, another yelled "Would you suck `em all?"
"Your dick says `Yes'", said another, pointing to his tented pants.
As quiet returned, the near-tearful pledge blurted out "I love the frat, and I love my pledge class." He nodded when the trainer yelled "Does that mean `Yes'?"
"Well, we don't have time for you to suck all these pledges, and these with micro dicks don't deserve it. You can do the dicks bigger than yours, and the micros get something else," said the trainer. "What they get is up to you."
The choice was then put to JR. He had to get into the line where he thought his dick would rank him. If he wasn't right, would have to suck all of the cocks bigger than his.
JR had never compared his dick to others, and except for his younger brother he had never played around much with other boys before college. He thought his dick was about fifth or sixth largest, based on what he saw. The brothers were getting bored, and yelling for action.
He got into the line in sixth, and prepared for the worst. He soon felt a brother reaching from behind him, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his fly. His levis were soon on the floor, and a huge tent fronted his Fruit of the Looms. The trainer offered him another chance to look at the lined-up dicks, and he declined a chance to change his spot.
His briefs were pulled down, and a larger than expected hard dick bounced out. He passed me on the ruler with a little more than six inches. He had, though, gotten in line wrong. He'd suck the five big dicks, but the other four were told to get their rubber out of their jeans, and double-time down to the dining room, where four of the the frat's football lettermen were in charge.
I don't know if any of the four had been plowed before, but I know none had been plowed with so little affection. This was a near-rape, as the football players slipped on the rubbers, bent the pledges over a table, made them sing the school fight song, and quickly did the deed. The fight song was never begun with more vigor by any four singers, but one-by-one as the pledges felt a huge football dick in a new place, the melody died out.
Back in the party room, JR was learning the joy of cocksucking, starting with Gabe, the tallest pledge. Gabe, a veteran of many enjoyable dates and occasional circle-jerks and blow jobs in the basketball locker room, was able to give JR a few tips, but he wasn't used to popping a load in public with at least half the members still watching and kibitzing. After the members tired of watching JR blow Gabe, they forced him to move on to Nick while Gabe used his hand to complete the job. Cum in five minutes or less, the members now warned, or find your rubber and head to the dining room.
Nick, from rural Iowa, had made it through high school with lots of fooling around with neighboring farm boys, starting with skinny-dipping at the pond, and progressing to mutual hand jobs and and swapping blow jobs. He had never had a problem shooting off in front of others, and proved it by filling JR's mouth in quick order.
The number three pledge was Harris, long of dick but too short to ever play basketball, so he was a county champion wrestler. He later told us that the wrestling team enjoyed sex play almost daily in the showers. The wrestling team's hazing for new boys was much like the frat's, and he enjoyed both.
JR moved on to Victor, another shy but rich kid, who was about to enjoy his first blow job. He nearly shot off when JR knelt in front of him, and completed the job surprisingly fast.
JR had become an experienced sucker when he put his hand on my dick, and it ached to shoot after being hard and getting so much attention for so long. I couldn't deny JR my load for long.
(end of part one)