Pledge Games (+Audiobook)

Everyone is 18.

Note to readers: Today I've included the full audiobook of this chapter. Feel free to give feedback in the comments section: love it, hate it, needs a tweak for your preferences, etc. This will act as a preview (and beta test) of an upcoming Audio Tier, which is currently in the works (still tweaking the voice). Stay tuned, and enjoy! Cheers.

Chapter 1: Ookie Cookie Bukkake

Frat houses are gross. Ours? Catastrophic. Think: three couches, all unclaimed and all mysteriously smelling like sex and cum pretty much all the time. A kitchen with no plates, just red solo cups and three forks we treated like sacred artifacts. And don’t even ask about the basement. If it moves, you don’t make eye contact with it.

My first night in the frat, it was November my freshman year. I missed pledge week thanks to mono, so I was sort of just joining mid semester. I was learning what all the other guys had been immersed in for months already. We had games. Of course we did. That’s what happens when you fill a house with young men, insecurity, and protein powder. But these games… they got weird.

The one that stuck out—the one that everyone pretended not to dread—was called Final Round.

I was learning by paying attention, having no idea what to expect on my first night in the frat. No one warned me about anything. I was just that guy that was sick before and joined in the middle of a culture that was already in full swing. The weirdest thing about Final Round., as I would come to learn, was that no one knew when it would be called. That was part of the horror. You’d be studying, gaming, or halfway through your third hangover Gatorade and suddenly—BANG—someone slams a spatula on the kitchen table and yells “FINAL ROUND!” and the rest of the house erupts like a fire drill designed by gym teachers.

Everyone sprints to the living room. A stack of random items is thrown onto the floor—usually whatever’s left in the fridge: whipped cream, syrup, a banana, some sad, wrinkled grapes. No rules, just chaos.

And then? A challenge. Often made up on the spot. Often involving a freshman.

That night, the victim was James.

A fellow freshman. Six-foot-two. His body showing a friendly relationship with the gym. Played intramural volleyball with me, and still called his mom every Sunday. The frat loved him. They bullied him. He always seemed to enjoy it.

He lost a round of flip cup. Badly. Like… gravity-defying bad.

So, naturally, someone shouted “FINAL ROUND”, and the mob mentality bore down, somehow determining by ad hoc committee that his punishment was “Human Sundae.”

His eyes said he was disappointed, but his smile said he was somehow excited to endure it. He laid down shirtless on the living room couch, arms up like he was at the dentist. 

“You know that won’t do,” said Cam—the most loudly, performatively masculine dude in the house. 

“You’re kidding,” replied James, fear in his face but his body already showing testosterone-fueled excitement. 

Cam looked at him with his big, confident smile on his sharp jawline. “You know what’s required.”

James shook his head, but his lips curled at the same time. As the ceremony requires, he stood up, turned around facing the couch, and dropped his pants and underwear, bearing his naked, tight teen butt cheeks to the rest of the frat. The boys hooted a bit, smiles creeping up among the group. He continued to reach for the large, ornamental mantelpiece on the wall above the couch. He opened a tiny door on the small, square, jade urn someone brought back from Chinatown, and pulled out a small, bunched up ball of black cloth that elicited further cheers for the male mob. I leaned against the doorframe next to me, squinting at the scene, wondering what the object could be. 

Then he shook it out, revealing that it was a thong. I started laughing uncontrollably. I could not believe how raunchy this was getting. He bent over and slipped it on, and for the first time in my life, I was looking right at a guy’s ass when his cheeks parted and showed his pink hole.

James lay down on his back, his exposed cheeks on the hot leather, and raised his arms again. 

Tucker brought out the whipped cream like a surgeon prepping an incision. Greg muttered something about “perfect banana placement,” and the rest of the guys circled like sharks in khaki pants. I joined in, but I still didn’t know what we were doing.

James’ flinched and chuckled, apparently ticklish, as Tucker and Cam worked in tandem, placing whipped cream in perfect little piles on James’ body, from his chest to his crotch, and a maraschino cherry delicately on the top of each, like little wedding cake toppers.

“Don’t move,” Cam said.

James didn’t. He just blinked and said, “Don’t forget my balls.”

The room howled. Cam called his bluff and used the oversized spoon to start piling whipped cream inside James’ thong. James looked down at the invasion of his crotch with curiosity. I remember wondering what that must feel like down there. Cam continued spreading the whipped cream around, making sure his balls were fully layered, when I noticed James’ dick started to get some unmistakable blood flow. No one said anything, as the conversation continued flowing, but James’ face started to turn as red as the cherries dotting his body, and the bulge in his thong wasn’t just whipped cream.

The whole thing was dumb. Sticky. Hilarious. Oddly homoerotic. And yet—when Cam leaned down to pretend to take a bite of a whipped cream cherry on James’s stomach (house rule: no touching the food with hands), something shifted.

It was subtle. A flicker.

Cam looked up. Met James’s eyes. And neither of them looked away.

The laughter quieted just a little.

Then someone suddenly cast to the living room TV from their phone, and everyone looked at the loud scene playing before us. It was porn. And not just any porn–it was a bukkake scene, with some poor girl taking loads on her face with a smile from a hundred college dudes in some frat scene. It was dangerously close to what we were already doing, and while I love seeing a nice cumshot on a pretty girl’s face, I was worried that adding horniness to this mix was going to lead to some regrettable decisions being made.

Then someone yelled “OOKIE COOKIE!” and the already rowdy mob of boys became instant barbarians. There was yelling like we were going into viking battle, from random college guys who didn’t even have facial hair. James was the only one staying still, in his mostly nude, whipped cream and cherry covered state, he apparently was still cautious not to spill any of the juices starting to drip down his sides.

Even if he couldn’t see it coming, I had a feeling what was about to happen. Call it my knack for reading the room. Soon there were dicks out, facing the TV, and furious stroking of a densely packed group of guys standing shoulder to shoulder. I knew the gist of “ookie cookie”, having heard the urban legend my entire life, but never thought I would be taking part in one. The point is supposed to be everyone jerking off onto a cookie in a race to not cum last, as the final one to cum has to eat the gooey man-battered cookie. There were no cookies out in front of us, just a boy covered in whipped cream. How was this not extremely gay again?

I was new, and had no standing to start calling out the long held traditions of Greek life, not that it would have mattered much to these animals. After a few seconds of standing with everyone, watching the group try their hardest to squirt some goo, I decided I had to join in. I was already rocking a decent boner from the energy of the room anyway, and even James was watching the screen and stroking himself, his thick cock now sticking out of his thong and being worked by his hand. Whipped cream all over his cock and balls and his hands. Why shouldn’t I join in? It’s all in good fun. 

I pulled out my cock, not ashamed after seeing two dozen other guys do the same thing, and stared at the screen, ready to prove my ability to produce cum. What a weird thought.

Just as I wondered how James was doing, and I looked over to check on him, Greg leaped forward over to James, and sent a load of jizz directly onto his chest. James’ eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open as he moved his hands to try and block Greg’s load was showering him, cupping his hands as if he was trying to catch it before it landed on him. I had to chuckle. How did he not see this coming?

The second guy came only seconds later, aiming it at James’ whipped cream covered stomach, purposely aiming at a little cherry cream hill. It reminded me of when there’s something to aim at in the urinal, like the little picture of a bee, you always aim for it if it’s there. James didn’t even protest at the second load, apparently getting the picture that he was the target tonight, and I saw him lean into it, encouraging the guys to aim at the little cherries on his body. His own cock was sticking out rock hard, and he occasionally stroked it a bit.

After the majority of the guys had cum, it was down to a couple freshmen, John and Zack, I recognized from classes. I watched their taut asses shaking, pants down to their ankles as their arms worked doubly hard trying to finish before the other. When John released a long breath, I could hear the tension leave his body as he avoided losing, and dropped some white, watery jizz right onto James’ neck, before it dripped down onto the couch below him. John didn’t quit though, he was still tirelessly wanking, even though he had lost. I had put my dick away minutes earlier, deciding to sit this one out when I realized I didn’t really wanna cum on a guy, even if I couldn’t get this fat boner in my pants to go away. Just a masculinity appreciation boner, I reasoned with myself as I watched a naked guy covered in whipped cream and cum accept his final load for the night. John shot farther than he expected, because he got a shot straight across James’ face, making him flinch and squint and wipe his face immediately.

“Looks like we have a loser,” announced Cam, raising his hands in the air. I immediately felt bad for John, he worked his little butt off, and he was about to do something nasty and cum related.

Then, to my horror, with all the eyes in the room on him, Cam pointed at me sternly, and said in a booming voice, “THE NEW GUY!”

I was stunned, afraid, my heart sank, my stomach fell out of my ass, I could feel the blood leave my face.

“I didn’t play,” I said with effort, my mouth becoming instantly dry with all the eyes in the room focused on me.

“Yes you did,” he said.

“Ok… yeah… but I opted out… I–”

“You played, you lost, you get your punishment.”

“Ohmigod,” I muttered, suddenly foreseeing what was about to happen to me.

I dropped my arms to my side, accepting the moment. I could always just leave. It was a big school. I could go out and never see any of these guys again and it wouldn’t change my life. But, I was drawn to the atmosphere. I could have left at any point in the night, but I was having fun. Something about this homoerotic, boyish, carefree atmosphere was fun. If James, a cool fucking guy who probably gets more pussy than anyone else on campus, could sit there and play random games involving nudity and cum, then I could do my part. I wanted this. The fear of the punishment finally made me realize why people did it. There was something here that transcends the boundaries we put up in daily life. 

“Alright, what do I do?” I said, feeling a drive and energy run through me that cemented my decision to join the frat.

“You know ookie cookie?” Cam asked, opening his arms like in a welcoming gesture.

I nodded.

“Well, James is the cookie. Eat it.”

The boys suddenly joined into the motivation, a low hum of hoots crescendoing into a chant of “eat it, eat it! EAT IT! EAT IT!”

I walked over to the couch, and looked down at James. He was a fucking mess, but he had the biggest smile on his face, like he was happy I was deciding to opt into the debauchery.

I got down on my knees, and leaned forward to the first pile, which used to be whipped cream, but with a combination of James’ body heat and the dozens of hot loads that showered him, it was now just a pile of white mess. I closed my eyes, stifled back laughter, and dove in, licking it up. The taste hit me first, sweet like whipped cream, but something wrong mixed into it. I had to admit to myself though, not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. It was sort of familiar. I had smelled cum my whole life, since I started producing it, and the taste was just not that different. The boys cheered when I did it, and the motivation from their cheers led me to go even further, I licked his left nipple clean, making him flinch, and from the angle I was at, I saw his dick twitching. 

I could push this even further.

In the heat of the moment, I pressed my boner into James’ side, and leaned down to clean off his dick with my tongue. The guys’ laughter started to die down. I had accomplished something great, pushing the limits that these guys still apparently had. I pulled down the front of his thong and listened to him giggle as I cleaned his balls too. To my benefit, they were completely shaved. When I got all the whipped cream and jizz off of them, I still wasn’t done. James deserved a reward for his fortitude tonight. 

I grabbed his dick and put it in my mouth. 

The room went silent. I bobbed my head on James’ thick meat hog and swirled my tongue around the head. I channeled every slut I had ever seen on the internet, and every horny girl that had ever ventured into my crotch for a good time, and I sucked his dick, ready to make him cum. He started to whimper, and grab my head, and his body shook a bit. In thirty seconds, he was cumming in my mouth. I froze, allowing him to squirt everything into me and ride out his orgasm inside my warm, wet orifice. I knew it would feel better that way. So why not?

When he was done, he lay still. I lifted up my head, and looked at the guys, an uncontrollable smile across my face, as if to say, I get it now.

“That was the gayest thing I’ve ever done,” James said, starting to towel off his torso with someone’s shirt. The guys started to disperse, murmuring about what they just witnessed. A group gathered around me and started to ask me questions. “Why did you do that?” “What was it like?” “Who ARE you bro?”

Cam tossed James a clean towel. “You’re welcome.”

“I should thank him,” James said, pointing a thumb at me.

“Anytime bro,” I replied as I started to wipe my own face off.

He looked at me curiously, “Oh yeah?”

The rest of the night was neon lights and thumping music, and a public facing party. We finally had girls over, and everything seemed right in the world, when James pulled me into a side room.

“So, you were the only one in the whole house who didn’t cum earlier.”

“True,” I replied, getting an idea of where he was going with this.

His face turned from party mode to a giant smirk.