Nobody was quite sure how it happened.
Many of the students wondered and talked amongst themselves for years about how the most popular fraternity at the State University campus had transformed so utterly over the course of a single afternoon. Like an unexplained murder or a freak display of nature that never finds a reasonable explanation for its appearance, so the transformation in this particular group of strapping college boys was regarded with suspicion and incredulity. But soon, the basis of their conversion came to light.
They hadn't always been this way, of course. The Kappa Omega chapter had always been the most privileged and conservative house on campus, and their pedigree gave them a sort of elite status that the other Greek organizations could only dream about. Most of the brothers came from powerful families and were the product of summers spent at Martha's Vineyard, huge family estates located in the Hamptons, or fashionable private schools like Philips Exeter, Deerfield, and Hotchkiss. Most of the brothers went on to the best graduate programs in the country at Ivy league schools, moving up through the rungs of influence until they'd become the upper echelon of lawyers, political aides, businessmen and stockbrokers which ran the country. The criteria of acceptance in the chapter was terribly stringent, although the qualifications were well-defined: each of the brothers were good looking enough to be Abercrombie and Fitch models (and some of them were) with trim, athletic bodies and conformist personalities. Any drinking or partying they did was never reflected in tired eyes or beer bellies. The Omegas always looked great.
The brothers also excelled in their studies. None of them were below the level of Cum Laude, and their immense popularity extended to the most beautiful girls on campus as well as their professors.
The Omegas were revered and envied. They threw the best parties. They had the largest house on fraternity row. It had always been that way.
But the source of their metamorphosis occurred during one of their rushes in the fall, when the brothers conducted the most rigorous selection process of any fraternity. If you didn't look right, talk right, and act right, you wouldn't be asked back. Any singular traits were not tolerated. And even if you fit their criteria, only seven pledges were ultimately invited to become members. Unfortunately for the chapter, one of the prospective pledges who was ultimately rejected (they discovered) because he was gay promised that he would get revenge on the Omegas. After being cut down and insulted by the handsome, jacket and tie wearing crowd in the room, the disgusted freshman stood in the entryway with his face blushing crimson and his eyes staring like daggers,
"You're gonna regret this," the student declared. And then, he walked out.
None of the brothers thought much of it at the time. Most of them rolled their eyes or made a few catcalls as the front door was heard slamming closed. One of the pledges said he lived on the same dormitory floor as the rejected pledge, and that he was rumored to be a student of black magic. But none of this was taken seriously.
And then, something happened late on a Friday morning.
The chapter's president, Brad Parker, was getting ready to head out for his Biology class and checked himself in the mirror. He was a strapping senior just over six feet tall with broad shoulders, cornflower blue eyes, and a WASP-ish, handsome face crowned with a thick head of wide Roman curls the color of chestnuts. He adjusted the collar of his white Abercrombie and Fitch polo shirt with green stripes, regarding the classic red moose logo which adorned his left breast and the ribbed short sleeves clung to a pair of strong biceps carved from three years on the crew team. A choker necklace, popular with college kids, encircled his throat while the polo's shirt tail drooped over a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a leather belt. The clothes seemed to accentuate the powerful, healthy frame and actually hugged Brad's strong pecs to show off his definition. They didn't call those Abercrombie polo shirts "muscle fit" for nothing. All of the hours of working out in the gym and rowing in regattas had given him a wide, chiseled chest that always drew glances from girls and guys alike. There was a bit of chest hair sprouting beneath his shirt's open packet which only added to his sense of virility.
He smiled at his reflection. Brad was a hot stud, and he knew it. The son of a rich doctor who lived outside of Boston, the twenty-one year old senior had recently done a few modeling shoots for Abercrombie and was given clothes from that company as a result. Jennifer, his sorority girlfriend, was a knockout. And very soon, he'd go to Hollywood to become an actor. His Dad knew people. It was practically in the bag.
Brad grabbed his books and smirked again. At that moment, a good-natured voice called out from the hallway.
"Hey Brad!"
The strapping president found one of the brothers strolling through the open doorway with a relaxed, easygoing smile. Scott Wunderlich was a sophomore who'd spent most of his days growing up in San Diego, riding his surfboard to the tune of a sleek, powerful torso rippling with cords of bronzed muscle and six pack abs which looked like the steel plated engine of a Corvette. A white towel clung around his tight, narrow waist, perfectly displaying how his stomach tapered into the narrow "V" coveted by athletes and gym rats alike. His shaggy, light blond hair was damp and hung around a pair of emerald eyes the color of a Caribbean shore, while drops of water navigated their way over his shoulders and softly caressed the studboy's copper nipples. Best of all, whenever he grinned, Scott's teeth looked like melted sugar.
He was a California boy from head to toe.
"You goin' to class, dude?"
Brad smiled back at him and laughed. ""Bio," he said. "Don't you have any classes in the morning?"
"Not this semester. I'd rather sleep in."
"Figures."
"You just buy that shirt?"
"Nah," Brad replied, checking his hair in the mirror again. "Abercrombie sent it to me. I did a shoot for their catalog a few months ago."
"Looks good on you, man."
And then, there was a charge in the air. Something that would be almost imperceptible if it weren't immediately followed by the events which would change the Kappa Omegas forever and leave the entire college stunned.
Brad turned around with a wicked smirk and a mischievous light in his eyes.
"Not as good as you look right now," Brad responded, suddenly feeling as though he were no longer in control of his own voice. "You look so fucking hot, man ... I could suck your cock all afternoon." Hollow silence filled the room. For a moment, neither of the frat boys moved a muscle from where they stood. There was a look of mortification on Brad's face, while Scott just blinked at him in shock.
"Um, Brad?" Scott said. "You're fuckin' with me, right?"
Brad laughed nervously for a moment, trying his best to shrug it off as a thousand insects were set free in his stomach. He struggled badly for any sort of offhand explanation for the remark. "I, uh ... well, um ... it's like ... you know ... I was just, uh ..." His brain sent frantic signals, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Something was totally wrong. Brad was aware that he needed to give a flippant explanation for his comment, and he needed to do it quickly. And yet, his eyes remained rooted to the hot surfer's body in front of him. The drops of water trickled dribbled over tanned skin like fresh tears. Scott's chest was like a beautiful symphony of tawny, muscular brilliance.
The walls began to close around him. Brad felt a rising sense of claustrophobia and actually considered bolting from the room. But his Reebok sneakers remained planted to the floor like a pair of lead boots, causing him to stammer and clench his fists as though he were a ten year old caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
"Um ... "
Brad knew he wasn't gay. He had a beautiful girlfriend in a sister sorority who he fucked all the time. He was straight as an arrow. He was a guy's guy.
Wasn't he? But at that moment, Brad noticed that the front of Scott's own towel was tenting outward as his cock rose to full attention. He couldn't believe what was happening, but the surfer's green eyes were locked on his own. This time, there was no confusion in his gaze. Brad could see a flash of pure lust.
"Dude man ... I feel weird," Scott whispered.
"So do I."
"What the fuck is happening to us?"
"I don't know, but ... " Brad swallowed with a dry throat. "I -- I think I'm falling in love with you, dude."
"I love you, too" Scott said. "And I want you ... bad."
An electricity filled the air which crackled on the seams of Brad's clothes. Scott reached back and he gently pushed on the open door, allowing it to slide closed until there was a click from the latch. The appearance of nervousness melted from Brad's face as both he and Scott continued gazing at one another, drinking up each other's young physiques with their eyes and preparing for the feast to come. Brad could feel his own cock throbbing and becoming stiff and hard in his cargo shorts until the outline of his manhood was unmistakable beneath the zipper.
Scott reached out with his right hand and gently ran his thumb over the embroidered moose logo of Brad's Abercrombie polo, his fingers creeping down until they were gently moving in a circular motion around the nipple. This action alone caused Brad's cock to emit a drop of sticky precum into his boxer briefs. Without any hesitation, he slowly reached out and hooked his index finger between the powerful stomach and the spot where the towel had been tucked at Scott's waist. He gently pulled outward, and the towel became unwrapped and dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Scott's eight inches of college boy cock was revealed, surrounded by a nicely trimmed bush which was a bit darker than his hair. The flagpole was sticking straight out like a cannon, ready to shoot and pointing directly at the buckle of Brad's leather belt.
Scott's breathing was filled with anticipation as Brad began running his palms over the flattened stomach, exploring the ridges of his abs, and continuing upward until he gently squeezed the hairless pecs. Neither of them could contain their desire any longer.
"Door locked?" Brad asked.
"Who cares."
A pair of smiles were traded. Suddenly, the both came together into a passionate kiss. There was an explosive moment of release. Muscular bodies came together as their lips joined furiously and tongues became entwined. Brad could feel his lover's hands slipping around his waist and moving beneath his shirt to begin exploring his back. He responded by grabbing Scott's perfect ass and pressing both of the cheeks together, kneading the muscles like dough in his hands and drawing the hardened cock against the front of his shorts. They started grinding together and quickly the frat studs became short of breath.
Brad finally broke the kiss and began running his tongue over the expanse of Scott's naked chest. He traced every contour of the shoulder blades and chest as the surfer flexed his strong pectorals until they stretched and became rippled with muscle. Brad responded by sucking on his nipples, massaging Scott's pecs with both hands as he licked away the residual drops of water from his ripped stomach. Finally, he reached his goal and slipped the cock into his mouth. The nineteen-year old surfer boy moaned, shutting his eyes tight in ecstasy as he took a fistful of polo shirt collar into each of his hands.
"Awwhh, yeah ... suck that dick, you Abercrombie stud, fuck ... lick my big surfer cock, frat boy ... aw, fuck ... yeah!"
At that moment, in another bedroom just down the hall, Mike Jepson was kicking back on his bed and studying for a test later that afternoon. He was a lean kid with sparkling, hazel eyes and a thatch of curly dark hair. Mike had been a runner ever since junior high school and has the athletic frame to show for it: a trim upper body, smooth chest, and taut legs rimmed with muscle. Nothing stood out, but everything was easy on the eyes. He was a textbook example of eye candy. On this particular day, he sported a dark green tee shirt worn over a long sleeved white tee shirt -- a look also popular with college students. A pair of Wrangler jeans clung to his tight waist, and a dark blue baseball cap with the stark, red Kappa Omega chapter letters on the front was perched on his head.
He'd just finished reviewing a chapter when his roommate, Josh Hunter, walked into the room with a sluggish yawn.
"Where have you been?" Mike asked.
"Watchin' TV with Brody," Josh shrugged as he began scratching his balls through his gray sweatpants with an absent-minded look. He stretched up towards the ceiling as a rigging of teenage power shifted along his shoulders.
For some reason, Mike couldn't remove his gaze from his roommate -- the handsome brown eyes, the cut jaw, or the mop of light brown hair which hung down over his ears and forehead. Ever since his freshman year, Josh had been a star attacker on the college Lacrosse team. And as a result, he was nicely built with powerful legs and muscles which shifted like waves under his red and blue striped rugby shirt.
"You gonna study?" Mike asked.
"Nah," Josh yawned again. "Fuck that. I'm gonna work out."
Suddenly, the tingling of some electric charge filled the room. Mike felt a light prickling on his skin and his cock started to swell beneath his zipper. Within a matter of seconds, his expression changed from affable camaraderie to powerful determination as he tossed the textbook on to his bed, rising up with a resolute tone in his voice.
"Then let's get started," he said, pushing the baseball cap off his head, allowing it to drop on the floor next to his topsiders.
"Doing what?"
"This!"
Josh watched in disbelief as Mike suddenly ripped both shirts over his head and flung them aside, revealing his toned chest and flat stomach. He raised both his arms into a double biceps pose that was close to breathtaking, showing off the tight musculature in his upper body and the confidence in his eyes. Josh found himself immediately attracted to the frat boy in front of him.
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.
Before he knew it, Mike had dropped in front of Josh's crotch and was tugging at the white drawstring of his sweats. He pulled the string undone, then slipped his fingers under the elastic, tugging the sweatpants and Old Navy boxer briefs down in the same motion. Josh's cock sprang out at full attention, begging to be serviced, which prompted Mike to start sucking on the mushroom tip.
He flicked his tongue over the slit, then kissed and sucked on Josh's balls which caused the frat boy to moan with delight.
"Awwww yeah!" Josh said. "Fuck, that's awesome! Aww, fuck yeah!"
Mike's hands reached around and grabbed his bare ass, squeezing it and causing Josh to tighten the muscles into a tight apple shape. As he took the entire shaft into his mouth, never gagging on its eight inches, the bare-chested runner could smell the pungent aroma of college boy sweat and the musk of his roommate's crotch.
"Mmmmmm," he said.
Now the transformation from straight frat boys to gay superstuds continued in the living room, where Brody Chastain was sitting on the couch watching a college baseball game that he'd saved with TiVo from the night before. He'd just finished working out at the campus gym and had spent a full hour with weight machines, trying to pack even more striated cords of muscle on his ripped, six and a half foot frame. Brody, who had been the tight end on the football team at State University ever since he was a freshman, looked the part of a kick ass athlete with pale blue eyes and blond hair cropped into a tight crew cut. His only goals were getting strong and growing big enough for the NFL.
He was wearing a sleeveless gray State University Football tee shirt with the school's name, team mascot, and Brody's number in red letters on the front. He also sported a pair of Russell Athletic baggy red shorts and high top sneakers -- standard issue for football studs working out in the gym.
But right now, those baggy shorts were pulled down to his thighs while Brody started working on his ten inch cockpole, pumping his fist slowly as droplets of precum bubbled out from the slit. The baseball studs on television looked so hot in their uniforms, and there was nothing he could do but give in to the urges he felt. He'd never been attracted to guys before. He wasn't a fag. But something had happened to him. Josh had gone upstairs and that weird prickling of electricity covered his skin like millions of ants scurrying across his entire body. And then, the way the shortstop walked back to his position and how good his ass looked in those baseball pants struck him. The boyish caps and the jerseys and the muscular arms jutting out of short sleeves drove him wild. Before he knew it, he was tugging and pulling those baggy shorts down, rubbing his thumb over the open slit. And then, he was jacking off like a horny fourteen year old.
His buffed arms looked like carved marble as he began using both hands on his shaft, one hand stroking the piss slit with a rolling thumb, then other pumping and stroking with a steady motion. The pitcher on television, a young rookie with bright eyes, powerful body and the baby face of a Little Leaguer, threw a strikeout. As he walked off the mound, he flashed a grin to his teammates and flexed a bicep for them.
Vanity. Cockiness. Youthful poise.
Suddenly, Brody couldn't take it anymore. He gritted his teeth, releasing his cock and grabbing the top of his sweaty tee shirt with both hands. Then, he started ripping it right down the middle, his muscles forcing the cotton to give with every show of strength. The first motion tore the shirt enough to reveal his pecs, barely dusted with golden hair and sparkling with a honeydew of perspiration. The second ripped the shirt open completely, exposing an eight pack which was corrugated and tough like the back of an Armadillo. A fair-haired bunny trail led down to his pulsating manhood which was oozing out thick cum from the tip of the mushroom head.
Brody continued tearing, ripping, flexing his commanding muscles until he was tossing away shreds of cloth which used to be a sleeveless tee. He pulled off his sneakers and wriggled out of his baggy shorts, kicking them away from his feet. Then he got back to work on his cock, caressing it as the monster continued to grow, letting out a guttural moan as he pinched his own nipples.
Suddenly, Brody heard someone reach the bottom of the stairs. He turned and saw one of the pledges, Todd Davis, standing there in mortified horror.
"Omigod," he gasped. "Brody, I -- I didn't ... I didn't know you were ... that is, uh ... "
Brody just smirked back at him with an arrogant look. Let the little fucking pledge stand there and be traumatized if he wanted. Todd looked so helpless, his hands clenched into tight fists, mouth hanging open and his innocent blue eyes having widened into saucers. The freshman pledge was on the college swim team as a sprinter after having broke all the records at his high school, and he certainly looked like Kappa Omega material. His hair was jet black and gelled into a clean cut, spiky, yet conservative style. His skin was the bronzed color of summer every month of the year, and he always wore the preppiest attire of anyone in the house. Brody hadn't been around for any of the hazing rituals where the pledged were forced to strip, so he didn't know what the kid's body was like. He'd assumed that all those years in the pool swimming heats and practicing his ass off had probably done wonders, but he couldn't tell since the blasted eighteen-year old was wearing a blue oxford button down collar polo shirt, the classic Ralph Lauren player logo embroidered on the chest, with the shirt sleeves buttoned at the cuffs. He wore a pair of nicely pressed khakis, probably from J.Crew or the Gap, and an Abercrombie leather belt around his waist. He'd capped off his attire with a pair of shiny loafers.
Like always, Todd was the perfect little preppy. Hell, he probably was skinny on top of it. Not like the jocks on television playing the baseball game.
"What's the matter, freshman?" Brody sneered. "Never seen a cock this big before?"
"N-n-no ...."
"I figured," Brody laughed at him, still jacking his cock which had extended to eleven inches of enormous manhood. "I'd ask you to help me out. But you look a little too scrawny for a football stud like me."
Straight away, the tight end stood up from the couch and hit a muscular double biceps pose just to show off. He had a ripped body that he was proud to display, and he looked like a strapping Greek God after having taken a detour through the American Midwest. His biceps rolled into a pair of massive peaks while the pectorals, expansive shoulders fit for throwing blocks, and tough abdominals settled into an impenetrable range of sweaty landscapes. Brody grinned at him.
"Like what you see, string bean?" he chuckled.
Just then, something happened to the shocked pledge. His eyes darkened into a look of cool defiance as his fists became so tight the knuckles turned red. A brash smirk appeared on Todd's face as he responded.
"Who are you calling a string bean?"
The boy's eyes flashed with authority as he quickly hit a double biceps pose. His nice preppy clothes barely concealed his body. Todd's biceps were like a pair of rock iron baseballs, perfectly defined against the fabric of the sleeves, and his thickened shoulders and chest were practically bulging out of the front of the nicely pressed oxford. The pecs were straining against the buttons and the polo player logo and were almost bursting out of the shirt.
"What does that look like to you?" he asked. "Three years on the water polo team in high school, and I'm a sprinter on the swim team."
"Nice."
"So you want to take back your comment?"
"Not if you don't rip off those fucking clothes, preppy boy," Brody grinned and pointed at the polo. "Starting with that shirt."
Todd glanced down at his buttoned down attire, then there was another confident smirk from the preppy freshman. His arms dropped down to his sides, and he kicked off his pair of brand new loafers. Brody could feel his thick cock stiffening into his own hand and he started pumping a bit faster.
What happened next took a matter of seconds. Todd quickly unfastened the collar buttons of the polo shirt, freeing them and popping the collar up into a preppy style. Brody almost shot his load right then, it was so fucking hot to watch that teenaged buck carry out that simple motion. But he managed to control his desire and took a deep breath, releasing his own cock for a second. He felt the semen recede back like a tide going out, and then he gave the shaft a gentle squeeze to keep himself hard. Todd pulled the shirt tail out from his waist, giving the older frat brother a brief glimpse of thickly cut, washboard abs and tanned skin before it dropped over his belt buckle. Then, the eighteen year-old swimmer grabbed the back of the collar and ripped the shirt over his head, popping off one of the shirt buttons in the same motion. He slung the still buttoned polo oxford aside, and flexed yet again for the football stud. Double bicep pose.
"Damn!" Brody said, his eyes widening.
Todd's flawless skin was smooth and perfectly carved with teenage muscle like the statue of Michelangelo's David. His well-developed pecs were completely hairless and featured a pair of copper brown nipples, while his breastbone lead down in a powerful slope to the six pack abs which awaited another boy's lips or a tongue. There was a slight treasure trail which formed just below the belly button and vanished under the belt buckle. And underneath the zipper, a thick mound was pushing outward, growing in size.
A throbbing cock. Eighteen year-old studboy cock, no less.
"Awww yeah!" Brody nodded. "Fuck yeah!"
He moved forward, taking the swimmer into his arms and kissing him deeply. Hands wandered over ripped shoulders, lips sucked on nipples, and tongues played across the slopes of bare torsos flecked with fresh sweat. Both of them felt a complete freedom as the electricity in the air washed over their bare skin. Brody flexed one of his biceps and Todd began sucking on the muscle, then joined his frat boy lover in another passionate kiss which left them panting for air.
"I want to fuck you, dude --" Brody said as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. "I want that preppy swimmer ass."
"So do it!"
They kissed again with force. Brody angrily fought with Todd's belt buckle and, once it had been successfully unclasped, started ripping the zipper flap of his khakis wide open. The top button of Todd's khakis popped away and danced across the floor as Brody kept yanking and tearing with abandon. At last, he stripped him of his pants and took the white Ralph Lauren boxers along with them. The beautiful cock finally leaped out to a stunning nine inches, dripping with precum as Brody ran his thumb over the tip. Meanwhile, he was kissing the teenage swimmer stud's pecs. Todd hissed as he felt the senior bite down on a nipple with his teeth, running both hands through the cropped blond hair and over the rolling muscle of Brody's shoulders.
But with a sudden motion, Brody spun the pledge around and positioned him in front of the couch. "Bend over," he said. "Do it now, preppy boy." Todd was more than happy to accommodate this command, turning around and grabbing one of the couch arms as he thrust out his bubble butt to its master. Brody grinned, grabbing a cheek into each one of his hands as he squeezed and pulled them apart.
The pink target was soon revealed, and Brody wasted no time in thrusting his cock into the virgin asshole. Todd winced and clenched his teeth down hard, groaning as the massive shaft slid inward and reached his prostrate.
"Aw FUCK!" he grimaced as pain and pleasure collided. "Awww, yeah! ... Yeah, fuck me, you stud! ... Do it, Brody!"
With a thrusting motion of his hips. Brody started fucking the swimmer up the ass and threw his head back. He shut his eyes, lips curled into a smile as he felt the warmth that passed over the length of his flagpole.
"Unnngh!" Todd moaned. "Unnnnnggggh!"
At that moment, Brad was standing in the middle of his bedroom with his Abercrombie clothing littered around his bare feet. His arms and chest muscles were tensed up and flexing hard as each heaving breath caused his abdominals to stand out in ridges. Scott was kneeling in front of him, ferociously tearing at the seams of his white Abercrombie boxer briefs and ripping them to shreds. He finally pulled away the remains of Brad's shredded briefs and flung the pieces away, then started licking the shaft of his massive ten inch dick with long, gratuitous strokes. Brad squeezed the surfer's shoulders and smiled with a look of indescribable pleasure.
"Yeah." Brad whispered. "Oh yeah, man ... I love you, Scott ..."
Just across the hallway, Mike and Josh were both completely naked and enjoying a sixty nine position on one of the beds. Muscles churned and a pair of athletic college boy cocks slipped into hungry mouths as they fucked like crazy, finally liberated from their fears to enjoy gay sex for the first time. The bedroom windows were fogged up, and sweat was dripping from their powerful frames like water falling from melting ice.
Josh reached up, his hair plastered to his forehead, and deliberately slid two of his fingers into his roommate's asshole, searching until he located the prostrate. Mike moaned and rewarded him by paying special attention to his balls, toying with them while using his tongue to lick away every drop of precum which escaped his piss slit.
And so it began, as the boys at Kappa Omega started their transformation.
But this proved to be only the beginning of the day's inexplicable events. There were more frat brothers about to be converted -- several of whom were either walking to classes or returning back to the house.
The day had just begun.