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I didn't want to leave.

My senior year at Burnley College was a summer break away, and I was hanging on to every second.

I had arrived at Burnley nearly three years ago with a plan of knocking out a bunch of gen ed-courses and transferring out of there. But thanks to a certain Greek letter organization, Burnley became my home away from home.

I decided to stay. But more than that, I decided to immerse myself in Burnley -- giving campus tours, mentoring students in the political science department, and shouting myself hoarse cheering for our terrible basketball team. I became a real Big Wolf on Campus, in other words.

When my last grade arrived at the end of spring semester my junior year, however, I was seized by some kind of existential dread. In a year, my time at Burnley would be over. I would have to reinvent myself as something else, somewhere else.

But then, during the last chapter meeting of the Beta Alpha Chapter of Gamma Delta Gamma Fraternity that spring, something happened that made me long for my senior year to begin: I was elected Director of Membership Development.

In our chapter, by the way, the Director of Membership Development goes by a different nickname: "pledge dad."

...

The first thing I did after that chapter meeting was accept the congratulations from a half dozen brothers. The second thing I did was text Maverick.

"Guess who was just elected our next pledge dad?"

Maverick had been a senior when I was a freshman. The bull had been my pledge dad after I, an insecure, lonely pup of a freshman, had decided to rush -- participate in the fraternity recruitment week -- and accept a bid -- an invitation -- to join Gamma Delta Gamma.

But our relationship was more than that of a mentor and mentee. We had shared a drunken fling during spring break my freshman year, but then he had graduated. Since then, we had only gotten together maybe once or twice a year, and then only during busy events like homecoming. We saw each other too infrequently for me to consider us fuck buddies -- we were fuck acquaintances, at most.

Maverick's response arrived later that night as I was getting into bed.

"didnt know a pledge could be pledge dad" the text said.

I let the phone drop to my chest, rolling my eyes. Classic Maverick.

The phone buzzed again.

"jk. ur gonna do great. proud of u bro" the text read, as though the bull had seen my reaction.

I stared at the display for a long time, trying to make sense of the knot swelling in my chest. I wasn't sure if it meant that I missed Maverick as a person, our pseudo-incestual sexual relationship, or if I -- after nearly three years -- still felt some strange, subordinate desire to make my former pledge dad proud.

I shook my head to clear my mind. After giving the text message one last look, I turned off the display, set the phone to charge on the nightstand, and then turned off the light. My room went dark, save for a dim, orange light sneaking in from the street through the window blinds.

I fell back on the bed, eyes closed. Thinking about Maverick had brought an all-too familiar tickle to my stomach. As the air conditioning in the fraternity house kicked in, I let my thoughts wander back to my first spring break in college.

I remembered waking up in the middle of the night after an evening of binge drinking and finding the big bull between my legs. I remembered the feeling of his hot breath against my crotch, the weight of his nose ring against my fur as he had taken my cock in his mouth...

I opened my eyes, and I was no longer in that panhandle beach house. I was in my room in the fraternity house, and my cock was poking out of my sheath, straining against the sheets. I could tell where this was going.

I rolled over on my side and opened the nightstand drawer. My stomach tightened with excitement as the smell of silicon reached my snout.

I rummaged around in the drawer and found the two things I was looking for: a pump bottle of water-based lubricant and a dildo shaped like a bull's cock. I gave the bottle three pumps and coated the head and shaft of the toy. I placed in the bed next to me.

I turned over on my back and closed my eyes again, mentally hitting resume on the sexual fantasy that had been in heavy rotation for the past two years.

I stuck two fingers in my mouth and coated them in spit as I recreated the next part of the memory: how the bull had turned his attention from my cock to my ass. Grabbing my now rock-hard cock with one hand, I bent my knees and let my lubricated fingers wander down to my hole. Pretending the hand belonged to Maverick, I began to push against my pucker, feeling the muscle slowly beginning to relax.

A few seconds later, the first finger slipped inside. Exhaling slowly, I started jerking my cock with slow, deliberate strokes, determined to last.

I fingered myself for several minutes, feeling the heat building inside me, stopping only to add more spit once in a while. I could have used the lube, but spit felt more authentic.

When my hole was relaxed to the point where my fingers slipped in easily, I stopped abruptly and pretended to listen for noises on the other side of the door, just as Maverick had done. I squeezed the base of my cock to trap the blood there.

I grabbed the dildo and touched the tip to my hole, hoping to set off the same combination of mixed emotions that I had felt back in that beach house bedroom -- the realization that Maverick was about to fuck me, the fear of being caught, but most powerful of all, the desire to submit to the bull, take his cock in my hole, and let him pound my ass until he filled me with cum.

I closed my eyes tighter as I willed the fantasy to life. The thing pushing against my hole wasn't some mass-produced silicon replica. It was a real, lubricated, unprotected cock throbbing for release, attached to a muscle-strapped bull nearly twice my size who was drunk on lust and cheap beer and ready to breed.

I clenched my hole against the tip of dildo for just a moment to deny it entry, feeling the shaft bend in my hand as the thing fought to claim me. Then, unable to wait another second, I relaxed and pushed it all the way in, bottoming out against the flared base. Holding it there, deep in my guts, I jerked my cock furiously until the heat welled up inside me and I shot my load on my chest and stomach with a growl.

And then my orgasm was over. The fantasy was finished. I wasn't some clueless freshman being dominated by a senior on a spring break trip. I was rising senior myself, alone in my room on a Monday night in May with a dildo jammed up my ass.

I let go of the toy and felt it begin to slide out of me. When the tip finally popped free, I felt stretched out, empty.

Feeling spent, I wiped the cum on the sheet, deciding I'd rather do laundry tomorrow than get out of bed and clean up tonight.

I found the dildo and held it up, letting it catch the light coming in through the window.

"Nothing like the real thing," I whispered.

But that wasn't the full truth, and I knew it. My afterglow had dissipated sooner than I had expected, and in its place was a lingering doubt that told me that the sexual fantasy, which I had recreated more times than I could count, was no longer cutting it.

...

I was determined to reward the chapter's decision to elect me pledge dad. On my way back home for the summer, I sketched out an ambitious workout plan for the next three months. I wanted to look the part.

I spent the summer lifting and eating everything in sight, throwing in just enough conditioning work to stop all the excess calories from going straight to my gut. The weeks soon became a repetitive pattern of gym days and rest days, of protein shakes and chicken breasts, of rope jumping and foam rolling.

I knew I had done something right when, on the eve of returning to Burnley, I tried on my Gamma Delta Gamma jersey and found that it felt tighter across my chest and shoulders than I remembered. I received further confirmation when I arrived on campus and got the reactions that I was hoping for:

"Dude, have you been working out?"

...

But there was no time to feel good about myself. The college had for some reason decided to move rush to the fall semester from the spring, sending us scrambling to get to know the freshmen we were about to recruit.

Before I knew it, the first night of rush was upon us, and I was standing in the entrance hall of the fraternity house along with the rest of the chapter leadership team, commanding a swarm of other brothers in a desperate attempt to make the place look less like, well, a fraternity house.

Just when I thought the place looked halfway presentable, I spotted Spud coming down the stairs.

The short pit bull, one of my pledge brothers, looked like he had spent the summer doing the opposite of what I had done. He had put on some weight, and he had a bloodshot look about him suggesting he had either been sleeping, smoking, or drinking. Judging by the smell that assaulted my snout as he made it downstairs, I guessed the latter.

"Dude," I said angrily, gesturing at the chaos around me.

Spud looked around blearily, and then headed in the direction of the kitchen without saying anything.

"Are you planning on helping, or what?" I called after him.

Spud turned around and shrugged. "I don't know," he said.

"Fine, then you can be on chapter hall duty," I snapped. The chapter hall would be locked while the students going through rush were visiting the house.

Spud scowled at me. I met his gaze, daring him with my body language to say something.

"Whatever, Balto," he said, and he trudged back upstairs, presumably to hide in his room.

...

It was worse than I had feared. On bid day, Gamma Delta Gamma ended up with six new pledges. Six. We threw them one hell of a party that night, but to me, it all felt forced.

The level of concern seemed to correlate to seniority. The sophomores, who had never before experienced pledgeship -- the educational period between accepting a bid and becoming a brother -- from the perspective of brothers of the chapter, partied as hard as the new pledges, if not harder. The juniors gave it a good effort as well, but many of them called it an early night. Among the seniors, my pledge brothers, the mood was downright funereal.

We ended the night -- as we so often did -- on the roof of the house. Fraternity row at Burnley was strategically separated from the rest of campus by a small, overgrown creek, which ran parallel to the fraternity houses on the other side of the street. From where I was sitting, I could see the science building and one of the freshman dorms poking above the treetops. The buildings were lit up in the darkness, their brick facades glowing.

My fondness for the college squeezed my heart. "I'm going to miss this place," I said, hoping I could relieve some of the tightness in my chest by voicing the emotion.

Several of the other seniors grunted in agreement. I wondered if they had been thinking the same.

Spud cracked open another beer and poured it into a red plastic cup that was crinkled from a long night of drinking. He crushed the empty can against the shingles. Biting down on the lip of the cup to free up his hands, he raised the crumpled-up can, narrowed his eyes to aim, and tossed it in the general direction of the recycling bin on the curb below.

The can missed the bin by several feet, bounced on the sidewalk with a metallic rattle, and landed in the middle of the street.

"Close enough," Spud said, taking a sip from the plastic cup.

"Come on, you know you're not supposed to do that," Champion, a ram who had pledged my sophomore year, said. We had lost track of how many times the college had warned us about keeping our trash in check.

"You're risk management chair, aren't you?" Spud said, not taking his eyes of the cup in his paw. "Go manage it."

"Don't be a dick, Spud," Private, the chapter president, said instantly.

Spud took a big gulp. "You got it, Mister President," he said.

Private glared at him but said nothing.

A few seconds of tense silence passed. "I'm not even risk management chair," Champion said in a small voice. "I'm philanthropy chair."

The silence resumed. It lingered, its presence growing like a chemical reaction with each passing second. Just as I opened my mouth to break it, Lefty, a sophomore, spoke up.

"Anyway... what are you guys doing next year?" he asked. His tone suggested he had found the silence as uncomfortable as I had.

The responses varied. Grad school. Internship. Law school. Moving.

"Spud?" Lefty said.

I turned my head to look at the pit bull, realizing he hadn't responded.

Spud poured himself another beer and tossed the can off the roof, hardly aiming for the recycling bin this time.

"I don't know," he said.

...

The oppressive humidity of late summer lay like a blanket over the woods. Insects chirped and hissed in the grass around us. Distant lightning lit up the night sky.

I could hardly have asked for a better backdrop for my debut performance as pledge dad, the night when I was set to give our pledges their new names. I had experienced the pledgeship activity twice -- three times, counting the time I had been blindfolded through much of it -- and it never failed to fill me with a sense of purpose. In my mind, it marked an unofficial beginning of a semester-long journey.

This time was different, however. This time, I was leading it.

One of the younger brothers led a chain of blindfolded pledges on a meandering path around us, creating the illusion that they were walking deep into the woods. The rest of us busied ourselves with backing and lining up our cars. After a few minutes, the pledges were led behind the cars and positioned shoulder to shoulder, bathed in the red glow from the taillights.

I let the pledges stand there for a moment, leaving them to wrestle with the unknown. The sight of them reminded me of the confusion and excitement and fear that I had felt some two and a half years ago, when I had been in their shoes. I hoped they felt the same way.

I walked closer to where the six pledges were lined up to examine them more closely. I thought I could read something into their personalities based on how they were standing. A lanky deer (soon to be dubbed Prancer) at the end of the line was hugging himself with his arms as though worried he was about to be beaten. Next to him stood a brown bear (Winnie), his paws defiantly balled into fists. Farther down the line, a tall Great Dane (King) stood with his hands behind his back as though he had made his peace with being executed by firing squad. Beside him stood a scrawny rat (Twig), trembling visibly.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Private. He was holding a massive sword.

"All yours, pledge dad," the German shepherd whispered as he handed it to me, giving me a meaningful look.

My stomach tightened as I took the sword. All I managed in response was a faint smile.

I took a step forward. "On your knees, pledges," I said, stabbing the sword deep into the earth in front of me.

The six pledges jumped as I spoke. Still blindfolded, they attempted to get down on their knees. The rat stumbled and fell sideways, taking two other pledges with him.

Laughter erupted from behind me where the rest of the brothers were gathered. I waved a hand in a frantic attempt to shut them up.

"The blindfolds!" someone hissed.

I clenched my jaw in anger -- I had run through the pledgeship activity in my mind a million times. I was supposed to have told the pledges to take their blindfolds off first, then to get down on their knees.

I waited for the laughter to die down. "Blindfolds off, pledges," I said.

The pledges did as they were told, some hesitantly, others ripping at the cloth covering their eyes as though it had been suffocating them.

I looked down at them as they blinked and squinted in the red glow, making sure to lock eyes with each of them. I puffed my chest out, my hands on the handle of the sword in the ground front of me. I thought back to the sight of Maverick towering over me on that chilly February night my freshman year, looking like some beast of legend, his voice booming in the darkness, hoping I was recreating just a fraction of that vision.

"You have all accepted a bid to become --" I began, but I was interrupted by the chorus of a country song that suddenly started playing from somewhere in the darkness.

The brothers burst out laughing again.

Even in the glow of the taillights, the deer on the left went visibly red as he realized his phone was ringing.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he said, digging into a pocket to silence the phone like his life depended on it.

I glowered at him, mentally kicking myself for forgetting to tell the pledges to leave their phones at the house.

"As I was saying," I said. "You have all accepted a bid to become a pledge of Gamma Delta Gamma. You have all started to learn the history of our fraternity and the values that bind us together as brothers."

I had to stop at that point and take a deep breath. My throat felt like it was seizing up.

"But -- you are not brothers," I said, soldiering on. "Not yet. An important part of every journey -- I mean, of every pledge's journey -- is rediscovering himself as a member of Gamma Delta Gamma. And so, tonight, you will each receive your pledge name. From now on, you are to call your pledge brothers only by that name."

I cleared my throat loudly, hoping to clear the constriction. I had spoken the words a thousand times in front of the mirror. I knew every syllable. Yet I still hadn't managed to get through it without messing it up.

Performance anxiety and doubt melded and multiplied in my mind. Standing there, staring down at what was supposed to be the future of the chapter, I felt momentarily paralyzed with fear. Six pledges. One-two-three-four-five-six. That meant we were absolutely dependent on a big haul of pledges next year. And what if we -- no, I wouldn't be there -- what if the the younger guys failed? What if next year was just as bad -- or worse? At what point would the chapter default on the house payments and get kicked out? At what point would the national fraternity organization show up and disband us?

The sound of buzzing insects filled my head, louder now than before. I blinked. Everyone was staring at me.

I hurriedly yanked the sword out of the ground, hoping the others had interpreted my lack of action as a dramatic pause. I moved to an Alaskan Malamute at the far-right end of the line of pledges. I raised the blade with surprising ease, silently thanking my summer lifting routine.

The freshman stared up at me, his eyes wide with awe. His ears flattened as I lowered the sword to rest on his shoulder.

"From this day forth, you shall be known as..." I began.

This time, my pause wasn't intended for dramatic effect. I was completely blanking on the name that Private and I had come up with the previous evening, when we had barricaded ourselves in his room with a 24-pack, our name suggestions becoming more ridiculous (and hilarious) as the evening progressed.

"Scout!" Private called out from behind me.

"Right -- Scout," I said, tapping the dog on the shoulders with the blade. "Your pledge name is Scout."

As I continued down the line, naming each pledge, I felt as though I were moving in slow motion. How had I failed to remember the name of one of my own pledges -- the guys I was supposed to be responsible for, the guys I was supposed to be mentoring?

When I reached the deer at the other end of the line and called out his pledge name, I felt tears pressing against the corners of my eyes. I had waited all summer to be in those woods, holding that sword, naming those pledges. Now I wanted to be anywhere else.

I removed the sword from Prancer's shoulder and leaned on it heavily.

"This concludes the pledgeship activity," I said. "Blindfolds back on."

I turned my back to the pledges, my eyes downcast to avoid looking at the other brothers. All around us in the grass, the insects intensified their singing, their chirps like the hiss of an angry crowd.

...

The fall semester was speeding by at an alarming pace. When fall break arrived in October, I looked at a calendar and realized with a pang that my last fall semester in college was nearing the halfway point.

In an effort to keep people from going home for the long weekend, we threw a pirate-themed party that Wednesday night. It was only mildly successful; by 11:30 p.m., it was mostly only brothers and a handful of sorority girls left. We didn't make much of an effort to keep the party going, choosing instead to retreat to the roof and let it die down on its own.

We sat there in silence, still wearing our outfits, looking like a band of pirates marooned on an overturned ship. There was a chill in the air that left me no doubt that summer was officially over, but the shingles below us radiated a day's worth of sunshine.

I felt old; a year ago, I would have still been downstairs, firing up a new playlist and ordering everyone to hit the dance floor. Now I felt like curling up and falling asleep.

The hatch opened with a creak, and out popped Seabiscuit -- another one of my pledge brothers.

"Yarr, mateys," the tall, lean horse said, brandishing a plastic cutlass. "Avast, and such." He climbed up and joined us. "Good morning, pledges!" he said in a sing-song voice to King, Twig, and Winnie, who we had ordered to guard a case of beer.

"And a fine morning to you as well, Brother Seabiscuit!" the three pledges said robotically.

Seabiscuit chuckled as he sat down next to me. "Never gets old," he said. "Beer me," he said to the pledges.

Twig tossed him a beer. Seabiscuit -- his eyepatch robbing him of his depth perception --whiffed, and the beer rolled off the edge of the roof and exploded on the sidewalk below.

The assembled pirates produced sounds of disappointment.

"Damn pledges," Seabiscuit said, shaking his head. He pointed the plastic sword at Twig. "I should make you walk the plank. Beer me again, landlubber."

The rat passed him another beer, successfully this time.

Seabiscuit opened it and held it up as though toasting the Burnley skyline. "Well, folks, it's official," he said. "I'm taking the LSAT on November 18."

"Welcome to the party," Private said, tipping his beer in Seabiscuit's direction.

"What's that?" said Winnie, looking from the horse to the German shepherd and back again.

"Oh, pledges," Seabiscuit said with a sigh. "I remember when I was that innocent."

"It's a standardized exam you have to take if you want to go to law school," Private said, turning around to look at the bear.

"Yep, just a half-day test that'll decide whether or not I'll get into a decent law school and land a solid job and be able to pay back the shit-ton of student loan debt I'm amassing," Seabiscuit said. "No big deal."

Spud, who had been sitting with us in silence, suddenly let out an exasperated sigh and got to his feet. He threw the hatch open without a word, jumped downstairs, and then slammed the hatch shut.

We stared at one another, frowning.

"What was that all about?" King asked.

"Maybe he feels strongly about standardized tests?" Seabiscuit said, taking a swig and shrugging. He turned to Private. "So, are we studying together, or what?"

"I don't know..." Private said, the dog's eyes narrowing. "What's in it for me?"

"Ouch," Seabiscuit said.

There was a loud thud from downstairs. Then another one. Our ears perked up. When I looked at the other brothers, there was more concern than confusion in their faces.

"What was --" Twig began. Another thud.

"Pledges, stay here," Private said, starting toward the hatch. Seabiscuit and I followed him.

"Yeah, guard the beer!" Seabiscuit said.

We followed the sounds to the wing of the house where our and the other seniors' bedrooms were located, stopping in front of Spud's door. Pushing it open, we found Spud -- still dressed in a vest, knee-length pants, and a red bandana -- standing in the middle of his room, holding a baseball bat. The wall by his bed was pockmarked with holes. As we watched, Spud raised the bat and -- wham! -- added another one, the noise booming through the house.

Spud caught sight of us and let the bat fall to the floor with a clatter. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

"Spud, what are you --" I began.

"What's going on?" came a voice from the end of the hall. A couple of girls had heard the racket and had ventured upstairs to investigate.

Private swore under his breath. "Uh, nothing!" he said unconvincingly. He looked at me, growled "Handle this!" and then dragged Seabiscuit with him to do damage control.

I watch them hurry down the hall. When I turned back to look at Spud, I found the pit bull staring at me. We stood there for a second; him a barely pent-up ball of rage, me trying to think of something to say.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked angrily. There was a hint of a drunken slur in his voice. "You gonna have me suspended? Debrothered? You gonna put me on alcohol probation again?"

I frowned at him. "Is that what you want?" I said.

"I don't know!" he shouted, and he bent to pick up the baseball bat again.

"Whoa -- whoa -- whoa!" I said, stepping forward and stepping on the bat, keeping it on the floor.

Spud looked up at me, fangs bared, and I thought he might take a swing at me. Instead he sank to his knees, the frustration seeping out of him as though he had sprung a leak.

"I don't know," he repeated, clutching his head with his paws. "I don't know. I don't fucking know!"

"Relax -- relax!" I said, not exactly sure what Spud was talking about. "Here, let's get you up on the --" I changed my mind about getting the pit bull off the floor and on the bed when I saw that it was covered with pieces of drywall. "Actually -- let's go to my room."

Spud allowed himself to be led by the arm into my room, two doors down the hall. Once inside, he sat down on my bed and cradled his face in his paws.

I closed the door behind us and stood there for two uncertain seconds, catching my breath.

"What's going on with you?" I said, taking a careful step toward him. "You've been acting really weird ever since we got back from summer break."

"Why do you care?" Spud snapped without looking at me.

"Because I'm your brother," I said, sitting down next to him.

Spud let out sardonic laugh. "Don't fuckin' talk to me about brotherhood," he said. "When we were pledges, people cared about brotherhood. People hung out all the time. Now everybody's just going out or hanging out with their own cliques. What the hell happened to this place, man?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"I don't know," I said calmly. "I think that has more to do with us growing up and actually being in charge of running this place than anything else."

"Yeah, that's what it's all about, huh," Spud said mockingly. "Gotta make sure we don't piss off the college. Gotta make sure we fill in those philanthropy spreadsheets. Gotta make sure the annual report looks good."

I let the pit bull rant and rave about his perceived state of the fraternity for a long while, adding just enough to the conversation to keep him going. After several minutes of him alternating between pacing angrily around my small bedroom and perching himself on the edge of the bed, he finally began to run out of steam. He sat down again, his brow furrowed. Then a new idea seemed to come to him. He perked up a little, and he turned his pale eyes to me.

"Can I ask you something?" Spud said.

"Sure," I said, trying not avoid sounding too exasperated.

"Did you and Maverick fuck spring break freshman year?" He posed the question as casually as though asking me to pass him a beer.

I was stunned -- but only for a moment. Spud had heard. He had been sleeping on a pullout couch right outside Maverick's and my room that spring break, and he had gone to bed early that night when the rest of us had gotten blackout drunk and Maverick had fucked me twice. Of course Spud had heard.

Several seconds of silence had passed. Spud was still staring at me.

"Yeah," I said at last.

The follow-up question came almost instantly. "Is Maverick gay?"

"You should ask him."

"Is that why you wanted to be pledge dad?" Again, Spud had the question lined up and ready to go.

I blinked as my brain processed what Spud was implying. "You think I wanted this position because I want to fuck freshmen?" I said incredulously, getting to my feet.

"Well, do you?"

I let out a noise of protest, my hands balling into fists, and the frustration I had felt since rush came gushing out of me.

"No! I wanted this position because I care so much about this place it fucking hurts! And I don't know if Champion and the other guys are ready to lead this place! And I'm fucking terrified I'm going to come back one day and everything is just gonna be gone! And now I'm pledge dad, and I'm -- trying -- so -- hard to give these guys the best pledgeship ever, but I keep fucking up, and it's eating me up inside!"

My outburst stopped as quickly as it had started, and in the silence that followed, I felt embarrassment blossoming in my face.

Spud, however, was nodding. "That's what I'm fuckin' talking about," he said. "Finally some damn passion."

I marveled as a huge wave of relief washed over me. Standing there, I realized I hadn't told anyone about the pressure that had been building on me over the last several months -- not even Maverick.

Spud was still nodding. He looked down, finally releasing me from his gaze, and he seemed to make up his mind about something. Then he took a deep breath, looked back up at me, and said, "Do you wanna fuck?"

"...I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

I honestly wasn't sure if I had. "Why?" I said.

"Why the hell not," Spud said, shrugging. "I wanna try it."

An uncomfortable heat was creeping up the back of my neck. I let out a brief, awkward laugh. I half expected the rest of the chapter to come barging in through the door at any moment, laughing their tails off.

"I --" I stammered, scratching my neck. The determination in Spud's eyes was unnerving.

"Yeah, you," Spud said. "You said it yourself. You're my brother, right? My pledge brother. I know you better than I know anyone. So yeah, you."

I produced a series of halting sounds of protest, my brain unable to form a complete sentence, but something in me was yielding. I had reached that point in an evening of drinking where I could either go for a late night fast food run or jerk off and go to sleep.

"You sure about this?" I said, stalling to buy myself some more time. "You've kinda had a lot to drink tonight." My fling with Maverick, however enjoyable it had been, had started when we had both been way too drunk to consent. I was determined not to end up in a similar situation.

"You want me to fuckin' walk in a straight line or say the alphabet backwards?" Spud said. "I'm fine, dude."

As though to emphasize his point, he lay back on his elbows and pulled his shorts and boxers down to his ankles in one quick motion. He kicked his legs out and let the clothes fall to the floor.

I fought the urge to pinch myself.

Spud sat back up, now naked from the waist down, and looked at me impatiently. "Now what?" he said.

The pit bull looked like a man halfway between teenage and adulthood. His face and his pale eyes still had a youthful softness to them, but his body -- and particularly the small gut he had gained over the summer -- belonged to a man. He had a thick, white sheath, but I couldn't see the slightest sliver of red to suggest that he was sexually aroused. His prominent sack rested against my dark red comforter, the outline of each testicle clearly visible. Other than a brown splotch on his right hip, his fur was a dirty white all over.

"Well?" Spud said as I hesitated. He scratched his crotch, perhaps a subconscious response to my staring.

I shook my head to clear it. "Right," I said. "How about you just lie down?"

Spud did as though ordered to by a doctor, except -- and my heart nearly stopped -- he got on his stomach.

My mouth went dry. The pit bull didn't just want to fuck. The pit bull wanted to get fucked.

"OK," I said, trying not to betray my surprise. This was clearly going to have to take some work. "You, uh, ever played with yourself before?"

"Played with myself?" Spud echoed. "You mean have I ever stuck something up my ass? No."

He crossed his arms under his head to prop it up, keeping his eyes on me.

I sat down next to Spud and -- not knowing where to begin -- started kneading his lower back.

Spud's patience lasted about five seconds. "What are you doing that for?" he snapped.

"Sorry," I said, stopping the massage. "Just trying to make you comfortable."

"I'm plenty comfortable," he said.

"Fine." Skipping all pretense, I opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the bottle of lubricant. Spud raised his head in an attempt to read the label as I moved behind him.

I pushed Spud's legs apart and got on my knees between them. I put my paws on his ass and spread his cheeks slowly, watching as his white fur gave way to pink skin and then, for an instant, the puckered muscle of his tailhole.

Spud's tail whipped me across the face as it fell between his legs, covering his crack.

I snorted. "Lift," I said, giving Spud's tail a gentle tug to make him aware of what he was doing.

The pit bull did so slowly, perhaps fighting his body's natural urge to protect itself from another male.

"Just let me know before you start... doing stuff," he said.

"Sure, yeah," I said absentmindedly. I stared into Spud's crack, acquainting myself with the pit bull's most private area. I breathed in and tasted the scent of a day's worth of sweat and musk.

It looked like -- well, I'm not going to dress it up as something it wasn't. It looked like another man's tailhole, and the sight both aroused and repelled me. When I imagined what I might be able to do, to experience, if Spud let me, however, I felt blood rushing to my cock, beginning to push it out of its sheath.

I ran my thumbs down his crack on either side of his hole. As I reached his sack, I felt a shiver run through him, and I saw the fur on his legs stand on end.

"I'm going to start doing stuff now," I said.

Spud didn't say anything. He shifted where he lay, bracing himself. That was good enough for me.

I put a dollop of lube on my index and middle fingers and touched them to Spud's hole, checking off a sexual first in my mind. It twitched, but its owner remained silent.

After coating Spud's crack in lube, I decided to test the pit bull's tolerance. I pressed a single finger against his hole, moving it in small circles and feeling the muscle beginning to give way. Spud shifted again, and I withdrew the finger for a moment until he settled back down. Then I was back, teasing and testing his hole, training it to allow more and more of my finger inside until --

"Oh," Spud said. His sphincter relaxed, and I was inside him.

I froze, waiting for an elaboration, but it never came. Feeling reckless, I pushed forward, reaching into Spud's warm, silky depths until my knuckles were resting against his ass. As I pulled out, I curled my finger in search of his prostate.

I found it -- and Spud yelped, pulling himself off my finger. "I -- I think I've gotta piss," he said.

"You think you've gotta piss, or you know you've gotta piss?" I said, annoyed that he had interrupted me. "I know it can feel weird if you've never had your prostate --"

Spud slipped off the bed and pulled his shorts back on. "I'm gonna --" he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, and then he had left my room.

I swore and fell back against the wall. I had moved too fast. I had scared Spud away.

Deciding I would have to settle for my paw, I unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them off. My cock was fully out of my sheath, red and hard and ready, but with nowhere to go. I squeezed it angrily, and then began coating it halfheartedly with the lube that was left on my hand.

Suddenly my door flew open. I made a wild attempt to cover my erection.

Spud was back. He closed the door and got fully naked, leaving his pirate outfit in a small heap.

"Whoa," he said at the sight of my cock. He looked down at his own sheath -- his cock still not visible -- as though comparing the two.

I moved my hands. One of many moments of truth, I thought; if I were going to fuck Spud, he was going to have to see me naked at some point.

His eyes on my cock, Spud moved with purpose to the bed and lay back down on his stomach.

"Did you have to go?" I said. For some reason, that was the only thing that popped into my mind.

Spud made a noncommittal noise that turned into a gasp as I spread his legs apart again.

I returned to step one, gently massaging the pit bull's hole until it let me in. With that barrier cleared, I patiently worked a single finger in and out, in and out, feeding his hole more lube the second I felt the slightest sign of friction.

Spud gave no hint about how he felt about what or how I was doing. He merely lay there, allowing himself to be probed.

I, in comparison, could hardly contain my excitement. Spud's hole was a warm, tight, living thing that clenched around my finger every time I pulled out. I could feel his heartbeat. The mere thought of squeezing my cock into it was intoxicating.

I started working him with two fingers, savoring the tightness, pressing down to make him aware of the secret spot that had been hiding inside him all this time.

That -- finally -- drew a reaction from the pit bull. It started as a series of low grunts, steadily building into a kind of pained, desperate whine -- the sounds of a man feeling a brand new pleasurable sensation and not fully comprehending it. He buried his snout in his arms.

I kept it up as long as I dared, slowly upping my speed and spreading my fingers in an attempt to prepare him for what I intended to do next.

Spud announced that he had reached his limit by beginning to pull away from my fingers again. As he lifted his body, I saw that the tip of his pointed, red cock was poking out of his sheath. There was a wet stain on the comforter where he had lain.

I withdrew my fingers from Spud's hole and watched in wonder as the muscle slowly closed up. The pit bull was ready. I could have climbed on top of him and easily sunk my cock into him right there and then -- and my cock was hurting for it -- but I wasn't done with him.

I returned to the nightstand drawer and pulled out the dildo shaped like a bull's cock. I started toward Spud but hesitated, and then fished out a condom as well.

I tore open the wrapper and started rolling the condom as far down the shaft as it would go. For the first time since unwrapping the toy some two years ago, I was struck by just how long it was.

"What the fuck is that?"

Spud had caught sight of the dildo, a look of intimidation in his eyes.

"Relax," I said. "This thing'll make the real thing easier."

Spud gave my cock a confused look, as though worried I wasn't hard yet.

I lubed up the dildo and rubbed it along Spud's crack. He buried his face in his arms again and growled, but his back was arched and his tail pointed straight up. He wanted it.

I aimed the dildo at Spud's hole and gave a small push, suddenly aware of the fact that I had never done this before either. With my fingers, I had been able to feel every small twitch of Spud's body. The silicon appendage gave me no such feedback. I felt disconnected from the whole act.

Still, the tip slipped in easily. Progress quickly slowed as the shaft widened, however. I heard Spud suck in air through gritted teeth.

One part of me took it as a sign that I was going too fast, but another, more devious part of me knew Spud had no idea what to expect -- and wanted to make him work for it.

"Come on, open up," I said, grinding the dildo deeper into the pit bull's ass. My cock twitched as I remembered how Maverick had issued the same command to me.

Spud whimpered and obeyed. His legs flexed, the claws of his hindpaws digging into the comforter as he struggled to take more of the toy in his ass.

I continued to push forward, watching with fascination as Spud's hole dilated to swallow the bull-shaped cock. So that's what it looked like. I had on occasion used a mirror to watch myself as I played with the toy, but that was different. When I was on both the giving and receiving end, I didn't have to tell myself to go slow or stop -- I just did. In this situation, all I had to navigate by were Spud's body language and the noises of pleasure and pain he was making.

The strange disconnect I had felt was beginning to morph into something else -- a sense of control, of power. I gave the toy another determined push. The rim of the condom slipped inside Spud, and then the base was resting against his ass. He had taken the whole thing.

"F-fuck...!" Spud moaned. He was practically on all fours now, his ass in the air. The muscles in his back were flexing with the effort. His cock, hanging semi-erect between his legs, was drooling precum.

"There you go," I said encouragingly. I pulled on the dildo until I could see the condom again before cramming it back inside him.

Spud raised his head from the bed and moaned. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, and he had gathered fistfuls of comforter in his paws.

I adjusted my grip on the toy and started fucking Spud with long, slow strokes, feeling as his hole slowly adjusted to the toy's girth and allowed it to slide in and out more easily.

I kneeled behind the pit bull to take in the scene from a new angle. I put a hand on his hip and felt his body ripple in response to my touch.

Spud turned his head to look at me, concern for what was coming next on his face.

"Relax," I said curtly, upping the speed at which I was fucking him with the toy. The muscles in Spud's jaw tightened, and he put his head down again.

I leaned in close to Spud's hole. The sight of the toy moving like a piston in and out of his hole was almost hypnotizing. I moved my hand from his hip and closed it around his tail, forcing it higher up and drawing a whine from Spud's throat. He must have interpreted it as a command, because he pushed his ass back and spread his legs a little wider.

I could tell Spud still wasn't completely accustomed to the sensation. There was a slight frown on his face, and his fists still clenched whenever I pushed the toy all the way in.

Making sure Spud's eyes were still closed, I leaned in close. Then, after rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth, I pushed out a wad of spit and let it drop right at the base of his tail where rubber-covered silicon and flesh met.

I pulled about two inches of toy out of Spud's ass, letting gravity do its work to coat the shaft in spit before working it back into his hole. I gave him a few more words of encouragement as I watched, transfixed.

The sight of one of my bodily fluids entering another man's body seemed to speak to me at some primal level. My cock twitched, a painful reminder of hard I had gotten playing with Spud's ass.

I decided to change it up, angling the toy downward so that it rubbed past Spud's prostate with every thrust. It had an immediate effect; Spud's intermittent moans turned into a steady growling noise coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

I was amazed by just how easily Spud had acquiesced to taking the dildo -- which was no beginner's toy -- in his ass. Maybe he assumed that it was a prerequisite for getting fucked in the ass, I thought, or maybe -- and my heart leaped as I considered the possibility -- he would consent to any number of progressively kinkier sexual acts, as long as I introduced them in the same matter-of-fact way I had the bull cock-shaped dildo.

Spud shifted on the bed, and his movements snapped me out of the fantasy. His legs were getting tired.

"I think you're ready for the real thing," I said and began to pull the dildo all the way out of him. His growls intensified as more and more of the toy left his body, and when it popped free, he let out a gasp and collapsed onto the bed. I tossed the dildo, condom and all, in the laundry hamper.

I got to my feet, standing over Spud. He turned to look back at me over his shoulder, panting with sexual intoxication, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His body language told me everything I needed to know. His tail was still slightly raised, one leg still bent at the knee. His crack glistened with lube.

I felt Spud's gaze on me as I retrieved another condom from the drawer. I straightened up, my cock bobbing in front of me.

Spud's tail twitched and his body seemed to tense up in anticipation of what was about to happen.

I made to open the condom wrapper but stopped. "You've never done this before, right?" I asked.

Spud moved his head as though offended. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Remember Allie? We --"

"Not that," I said, interrupting him. "This." I grabbed my cock and wagged it at him. "Have you ever been fucked by a guy before?"

Spud lowered his head to the comforter. "No," he said quietly, looking down.

"Well, in that case..." I said, and I tossed the condom away.

The condom flew in an arc and landed in the open drawer. Spud followed its flight with his eyes.

I waited for his gaze to return to me, crossing my arms over my chest and flexing my cock, daring him to say something. When he looked back up at me, there was a small frown on his face, but he didn't say anything. He licked his lower lip.

I grabbed the lube and pumped out a handful before tossing the bottle next to Spud. I looked down at the pool of lube in the palm of my hand, momentarily lost in giddiness. Not only was I about to lose my virginity as a top, but I was about to take another guy's virginity as well. The thought that Spud would entrust me with that opportunity made me swell with something like pride.

I shook myself back to reality and found myself jerking my cock, now rock hard and dripping with lube.

Spud had buried his snout in the crook of his elbow, covering his eyes. I saw his ears twitch as they picked up the sound of my hand working my cock.

The sight of him cowering on the bed both annoyed and aroused me.

I grabbed Spud by the legs and pulled him toward me so that his ass was hanging slightly off the edge of the bed, perfectly level with my cock. He yelped in protest as I flipped him over on his back, but then drew his paws up to his chest like a submissive puppy.

I moved Spud's legs so that they rested on my shoulders. The tip of my cock brushed his hole, and I saw it clench defensively.

I spread some more lube on my fingers and probed his hole again. It seemed to already have tightened up some.

Spud let out a whimper and covered his face with an arm, shielding his eyes.

"Hey!" I barked. "Move that arm and look at me. No hiding this from this one."

Spud did as he was told, lowering his arm in silence. His face was red with a combination of lust and embarrassment. He stole a quick glance at my cock before looking up at the ceiling.

Spud's timidity has sparked something inside me I didn't know existed. My eyes on his face, I grabbed him behind the knees and pushed his legs back so that he was nearly folded double.

Spud looked down at himself and gave a soft whine, and I could only imagine what was going through his mind as he took in the sight of himself on his back, his legs spread, his hole exposed, stretched, and shiny with lube, ready to submit to the big wolf with a throbbing, red erection who was pinning him down.

I took a small step forward so that my cock was right up against his ass. Bending at the hips, I angled my body so that the tip of my cock rested against his hole. I held it there, feeling it twitch with anticipation.

It took a few seconds before Spud realized I wasn't moving. "What are you waiting for?" he hissed, breathing rapidly.

I stared down at him. "I want you to tell me what you want," I said seriously. "I want you to say it."

Spud sputtered, squirming in discomfort and frustration under me. I did nothing. I knew there was only one way the pit bull could scratch the itch that had been building inside him since the moment he had pulled off his boxers. And I knew Spud knew that as well.

Spud whined like an animal denied a treat. "I want you to fuck me," he said in a small voice, not meeting my gaze. "Please fuck me," he added for good measure, and he gave me a quick, almost pleading look.

I flashed a grin and started pushing into him.

Spud instantly threw his head back and closed his eyes.

"Look at me," I said. "Look at me and breathe."

Spud did as I commanded. His eyes were watering. He looked down at the cock sinking steadily into his ass. A look of uneasiness crossed his face -- perhaps second thoughts about being fucked in the ass bareback, perhaps astonishment at how easily he was taking my cock, perhaps shock at how much he was enjoying it.

It couldn't have been pain, based on how effortlessly I sank my cock into him. The combination of my fingers and the bull cock-shaped dildo had loosened him up nicely. I pressed my growing knot against his hole and growled in satisfaction.

"Mm, that feels nice," I said, holding myself there and giving Spud time to get used to the sensation. I looked down at him, his brow furrowed with the effort of being fucked, and felt an odd urge to twist the metaphorical knife. "You feel that? You feel that big wolf cock in your ass?" I said, pressing into him for emphasis.

I could hardly keep a straight face as I spoke the words, but Spud didn't seem to realize that I was putting on an act.

"Uh-huh," he said uncertainly. He gave his cock a firm squeeze -- it had gone soft -- perhaps to send his brain a message that the cacophony of unknown feelings roiling inside him were supposed to translate into pleasure.

Spud's surprisingly submissive response caused something to click into place in my mind. All I had to do was act the part, and Spud would obey.

I shifted more of my weight to pinning Spud's legs back and pulled out until just the tip of my cock remained in the pit bull's hole. Strands of lube extended from my bulbous knot to Spud's crack, and when I thrust back in, his hole produced a delightfully lewd squelching noise. He covered his face with a hand in embarrassment.

What surprised me most was the heat. I had predicted the tightness -- even with all the foreplay, Spud's sphincter still gripped my cock tightly -- but I had never expected a hole to feel so warm. It seemed in some strange way to be telling me that my cock was right where it needed to be, yet at the same time urging me to go deeper.

I gave it a couple of practice thrusts but quickly decided I didn't like standing on my feet while fucking. Leaning forward and hooking my arms under Spud's legs and shoulders, I climbed into bed and turned the pit bull ninety degrees, my cock still inside him. My gaze traveled from his face and down to where our bodies were joined. Suddenly what I was about to do Spud felt official.

I gave Spud's a few seconds to get as comfortable as he could in his current situation. Then -- after what felt like an eternity of teasing and toying with him, lubing and loosening him up, and getting him nice and hot for me -- I started fucking the pit bull.

I started him off with steady, rhythmic thrusts, pumping in and out of his hole, using my entire length, from knot to tip.

"That's better," I growled in Spud's ear.

"Y-yeah," Spud said breathlessly.

Compared to pawing off, this felt different -- but a good kind of different. When my paw was on the receiving end, I could control the speed, the tightness, everything. I was more than happy to trade that sense of control for the one I was exerting over Spud. Whenever I pressed my knot against his hole, he would exhale heavily as though I were stepping on his chest, and if I paused my thrusts for a few seconds, he would look at me as though worried that he was doing something wrong.

Then there were the added benefits of having a man on the receiving end. Whether he was aware of it or not, Spud was angling his ass and pushing up against me to meet my thrusts. And every now and then, I could feel him clenching and relaxing his hole, perhaps experimenting with what felt most pleasurable to him -- or maybe to me.

I decided to encourage Spud's efforts. "Man, your ass feels amazing," I sighed, knocking home three hard thrusts that brought my knot threateningly close to popping inside him. He didn't seem concerned.

Spud flashed a faint smile before his expression returned to the same combination of concentration and exertion that he had worn since my cock had first slipped inside him.

A minute or so later, I decided I had exhausted the novelty of the position. Finally given an opportunity to top, and not knowing when I would next get a chance to, I wanted to try everything -- or at least as much as Spud's hole could take.

I straightened up slightly and let go of his legs, letting them fall on either side of me. Resting my hands on his shoulders, my arms straight, I pushed him down into the mattress and picked up the pace, fucking him with quick, hard strokes that made his cock flop around and his belly jiggle.

Spud gritted his teeth and took it -- at least for a while. As I continued to hammer away at his hole, he started emitting a steady moan that peaked whenever I thrust into him.

I asked him whether he liked it. He said he did. I asked him again. He gave the same response.

Finally, Spud's concentration seemed to break. He put a paw against my stomach and gave a feeble push to slow me down, and a wild, fearful look came across his face, as though he had come to some terrible realization that he was powerless to stop me from fucking him as hard and for as long as I wanted.

I pulled out quickly, leaving Spud a quivering, panting mess underneath me. He was getting close to his limit. I was getting close myself, but there were still a few things that I was dying to try.

"Turn over," I said, sitting back on my heels. Spud did. "OK, now stick your ass back." The pit bull got on his knees and elbows, presenting himself to me. The speed at which he did so suggested he still had a little left in the tank.

Spud had endured quite the ordeal for his first time. His hole looked red and raw. It gaped open slightly, and the fur in his crack -- from sack to tail -- was matted with lube. Yet there he was, bracing himself for more.

I stood up on my knees and rubbed my cock up and down the pit bull's crack, feeling Spud's nervous anticipation like a tremor running through his body and into my cock.

I didn't want to keep him waiting. I pulled back, angled my cock down, and speared into him, giving him everything I had in one go. Then I pulled out all the way, leaving his hole open and empty and practically begging me to fill it with my cock again. I kept one hand on Spud's hip, the other keeping my cock pointed right at his hole as I repeated the motion again and again and again.

Every thrust seemed to send a shockwave through Spud's body. He jerked his head back every time I bottomed out inside him, his tail whipping me across the chest.

A particularly powerful thrust caused Spud's legs to give out, and he fell forward. I dove in after him, crushing him with my body and grinding my crotch against his ass until I felt my cock finding that sweet, warm spot and slipped inside him. I wriggled my hands under his body and held him around the chest as I resumed fucking him.

Spud, his hands on the back of his head, grunted into my pillow as I milked his prostate with my cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," I said as the realization struck me. I pushed myself up and grabbed his right leg, lifting it up and making him turn over on his back again. I pinned his legs back and started pounding him.

"You gonna take it?" I said, my breathing shallow, the words tumbling out of me.

"Yeah."

"You gonna take all of it?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna take my knot?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to knot you?"

"Yeah."

"Say it. Say you want me to knot you."

"I --"

But Spud wasn't able to finish the sentence. Feeling myself starting to come, I tightened my grip around his waist and forced my knot against the pit bull's ass.

Spud cried out, and his paws pushed against my stomach again, but then my knot popped inside him, swelling up and locking us together. His eyes went wide and his face drained of color as he felt me shooting spurt after spurt after spurt inside him.

Only when I was finished unloading inside him did Spud seem to remember his own cock. He grabbed it with a paw and gave it a few tentative tugs. It was still stubbornly soft. He looked up at me and -- seeing me leering down at him -- closed his eyes and frowned in concentration, perhaps attempting to block out the image of the wolf who had pinned him down and knotted him as he jerked himself.

"Do it," I said, squeezing my pelvic muscles to send as much blood into my swollen cock as possible. "I wanna feel you come."

It seemed to be working. After a minute or so, the frown on Spud's face grew more pronounced, his breathing more ragged. But just as I thought the he was about to come, the pit bull let go of his cock, covered his face with both paws, and started sobbing.

I felt something icy spread in the pit of my stomach. The dominant persona that had possessed me as I had fucked the pit bull vanished.

"Hey, it's OK!" I said, my voice oddly high-pitched. I tried to pull out, but my knot was firmly lodged in Spud's ass. I looked around my room for a solution to my predicament -- whatever that would be -- but quickly realized we were going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future. I had never knotted anyone before. I had no idea how long it lasted.

"I'm such a fuckup!" Spud said between sobs.

I looked down at the pit bull, seeing his body shake as he attempted to contain his sobbing.

"That's all right!" I said, hoping I was coming across as comforting. "It's your first time -- it's OK if you can't come."

"Not that!" Spud shouted, slamming his fists into the mattress. "Fucking everything!"

"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure how to respond. "You mean, like..." I decided I didn't want to supply any examples. "What do you mean?"

Spud took a deep breath and swallowed heavily. The tension in his body seemed to lessen slightly.

"Everyone's f-fucking growing up and making plans and getting outta here, and I'm going to be fucking stuck here all by -- all by myself," he said. He looked down at himself -- legs spread, stomach covered in his own sweat and precum, and -- of course -- my cock lodged in his ass. "What the fuck am I doing with my life?" he said.

I wasn't sure if he was talking about his decision to let me fuck him or his life in general.

"I failed intro to psych this summer," he said dully. "I did the math. There's no way I'm gonna be able to g-graduate in the spring." The emotions welled up in his voice as he spoke the thoughts that clearly had been weighing on him. He closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his snout.

"That sucks, dude," I said, and I meant it.

"What am I going to do...?" Spud sobbed, fresh tears spilling from his eyes.

I thought it was another rhetorical question, but then Spud opened his eyes to look at me.

"Oh," I said again. "You want my advice?"

Spud nodded, his lower lip quivering. The fur on his face was stained with tears.

"You want me to be honest?"

Another nod.

"Wow, OK," I said as I searched for the right place to start. After a moment's pause, I found myself staring at the point where my cock was buried in his ass. The sight gave me an idea: There was nowhere for us to go. Spud was going to have to lie there and listen to what I had to say no matter what.

"OK, here goes," I said with a sigh. "I'm gonna be honest: Yeah, you have been fucking up. But that doesn't make you a fuckup. There's a difference. You can decide -- as early as right now -- that you're going to stop fucking up. You can decide that you're going to be better. You can start on Monday by showing up to class. You can decide you're going to do your homework first before you go get drunk on the roof or smoke up in your room. You can email a professor or show up during office hours, or go hit up the tutoring center. All of that stuff is waiting for you. Doing nothing means fucking up."

Spud's eyes filled with tears. I grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.

"Listen to me," I said. "No -- listen! Seabiscuit and Private and I are all gonna graduate in the spring. It's happening. We're not gonna be around anymore. We've got shit to do and lives to live. That's the decision we've made. And that means we're not gonna to be able to drag your ass to study hall anymore. We're not gonna be able to haul your ass into bed when you're wasted, blackout drunk and sit with you so you don't fucking roll over and die in your sleep. But you know what? There's still a chapter of other guys here ready to hold you accountable. And the new guys are going to be looking to you to figure out what it means to be a Gamma D.

"But it's gotta come from you." I poked Spud in the chest. "It doesn't matter if you've got a ton of people behind you if you're not going to put in the work yourself. If you wanna stop fucking up, then stop fucking up. That's what it boils down to. It sounds easy, but it means making tough decisions every -- single -- day. That's the hard part. But if you're serious about the stuff you've been saying tonight -- and I really hope you are -- then that's what you've gotta do."

Spud was crying again, but his eyes were open, his jaw clenched. He nodded.

A long while later, my knot deflated to the point where I could finally pull my cock out of Spud's battered hole. I stayed with him through the night anyway.

...

That was the only time Spud and I did anything. I never brought it up. Neither did he. Maybe he got it out of his system, whatever it was.

That December, our six pledges became six new brothers of the Beta Alpha Chapter of Gamma Delta Gamma. In the spring, under my leadership as pledge dad, we added another 14. I graduated a few months later, relieved to find I was confident that we were leaving the chapter in good hands.

I came back the next year to watch Spud graduate. He ended up majoring in general studies, whatever that is, but, hey -- a degree's a degree.

To my surprise, Maverick was there in the crowd as well, looking handsome in an old polo shirt with the Gamma Delta Gamma letters embroidered on the chest. I suspected he had fished it out of his closet for the occasion.

I asked him why he had decided to attend. Maverick responded by saying that he wanted to see all his pledges graduate.