Like Warm (American) Pie

Author's Note(s): This is a gay fetish story. The plot is centered around male embarrassment nudity (ENM) and public humiliation. If you don't enjoy either of those kinks, you probably won't like what I've written. Additionally, the protagonist does not get a metaphorical happy ending. I understand that some readers hate it when that happens; as such, I wanted to offer a warning of sorts. Feel free to look at the tags if you are still on the fence about whether to continue.

All characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

I looked at my watch as I walked across the campus quad. It was 9:10 p. m. I felt exhausted - no, I was exhausted. I'd just finished a work study shift at the campus bookstore. I'd somehow been assigned to move and unpack all of the massive boxes filled with textbooks. The manager had said it was because I "had the build for it," but it was obvious that all of the guys were given the shitty shifts in the stockroom before and after the bookstore's normal hours. The girls were assigned to work the registers so the skeevy manager could flirt with them.

It was only six weeks into my freshman year and I was already wondering how I'd manage to keep up with everything I had to do for four years. I'd started to realize just what an idiot I'd been. I'd never expected to get into one of the best colleges in the Midwest, but I had. I was second-guessing whether I should have turned down all of the lesser schools that had offered me full scholarships to go somewhere that had only given me a pittance.

I'd worked incredibly hard to get opportunities in high school. I'd spent countless hours at the gym, training. I'd even competed as an individual at the National High School Gymnastics Championships twice. Even though I hadn't taken the gold, I'd still made it onto the podium for pommel horse and rings. I knew what dedication was; sadly, my stubborn belief that every challenge was just an opportunity had led me to bite off more than I could chew.

I wasn't quite elite enough as a gymnast to make it into any of the best colleges with a scholarship. I had to pick between no-name schools throwing money at me or one ranked in the top twenty that wanted to build up their men's gymnastics program. In the end, the idea of making connections with guys who'd go on to be richer and more powerful than I could imagine had swayed me.

Just between classes, work study, and gymnastics training, I was putting in at least sixty hours a week. One thing I hadn't anticipated was how it would impact my relationships with my peers. I'd been assigned to live in a dorm with other male athletes - mostly football players and wrestlers. Unlike me, none of them had been anywhere close to being national champions. They hadn't needed to be, though. They were all rich. Sports was just a hobby for them.

It was obvious just how much the odd man out I was from the first day. There was a guy living down the hall who wore a watch that cost more than what my dad made in a year. I was the only guy on my floor who didn't have a cell phone. Even though we'd passed Y2K less than a year earlier, I felt like I was still stuck in the eighties with my spiral-bound notebooks stacked on a shared desk next to my roommate's laptop.

It'd only taken me a few days to realize that all the other guys were forming bonds, but I was being left in the dust. I couldn't really blame them, though. Whenever they'd invite me to dinner, I'd have to turn them down to go work. They'd all be playing video games in the common room and I'd only have time to give them a quick wave as I ran off to meet with Coach for a one-on-one session.

I tried to shake it off. I knew there wasn't any use in dwelling on the mess I'd made for myself, and that I needed to get out of my own head. I looked at the ivy-covered building to my right. It was objectively beautiful. It had been just what I'd always thought I wanted from a college campus. You made the right choice, I reassured myself.

As I walked up the stairs to the third floor of my building, the hallways were alive with energy. I kind of loved it, but it made me resentful, too. I'd been up since before sunrise, so I was running on fumes. I still wanted to be involved, even though I was dead tired; I wanted the college experience I'd always imagined.

"Hey, buddy," my roommate, Oliver, said to me as I walked in our shared space.

"Hey," I replied. "How's it going, man?"

Oliver was standing by his closet. He was wearing a pair of designer blue jeans, but was exposed from the waist up. It took me a moment to realize that he was deciding what shirt to put on.

"Just getting ready to go to a party," he replied. "Jeremy's older brother is in Sigma Chi, so he's hooking us up. They usually don't let frosh guys come since they want all the girls for themselves, but there are always exceptions for the right people."

I sat down on the edge of my twin bed. He pivoted for a moment to preen in the mirror above his dresser. He ran his large hands over his slicked-back blond hair, as if to ensure it was locked in place and ready for action.

"Cool," I said. "Sounds like fun."

I'd meant it sincerely, but I could hear something in my own voice that didn't ring true. I wasn't sure if it was sadness that I hadn't been to a single party since starting college, or resentment that I didn't even know about that night's major social gathering.

"You want to come?" he asked without breaking eye contact with the mirror. "Jeremy owes me big time from when I let him borrow my Beemer and he totaled it. My dad was super pissed."

I was battling fatigue. The idea of staying out until the early hours of the morning and then showing up to my 6 a. m. shift the next day felt absurd. I felt excited, too, though. I realized that it had been a while since I'd felt eager about doing something.

"Sure," I said. "I'd be down to come - I mean, if it's not a problem, that is."

Oliver pulled a baby blue button up from the closet. It looked nondescript, but I knew that the label alone had to make it cost a few hundred dollars. He slowly pulled it on over his massive frame; his large biceps bulged as he slid his arms inside the garment.

"No worries, bud. It'll be fine. You should probably get changed. We're taking off in a few minutes."

Oliver gave me a once over from head to toe; his expression turned slightly sour. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing my Khaki slacks, Polo shirt with the school bookstore logo on the breast, and a pair of beat-up running shoes. The getup reeked of lower-middle class. I looked like a manager at a RadioShack.

"You can borrow something of mine if you want," he said.

What does that mean? I wondered. There'd been the slightest edge to his voice when he'd said it. It was almost like he wanted to make sure I wouldn't toss on my best Walmart clearance section attire and embarrass him in front of his new-found friends.

"Really?" I replied teasingly. "Are we going to pop by your tailor's house on the way there?"

Oliver was a six-foot-five, two-hundred-pound football player. Like most gymnasts, I happened to be vertically challenged. I was five-foot-four, although I'd tell girls I was two inches taller. I figured it wasn't really a lie if I wore the right shoes. I was, however, jacked as fuck. Even though I only weighed one hundred and fifty pounds, I had massive biceps and six-packs abs that were more defined than almost every guy I'd ever competed against.

"I see your point," Oliver said with a chuckle.

I wasn't sure what to wear. I didn't know the vibe of the party, but I didn't want to look completely clueless by asking him. In the end, I just tried to match his style. I tossed on some (much cheaper) dark wash jeans, a white dress shirt with blue pin stripes, and a pair of black Steve Madden's. It may not have been haute couture, but all the pieces were new and fit me well.

"Olly olly oxen free!" Thad, Oliver's friend from the football team, shouted as he pushed his way into the room. "Are you...?"

He stopped in his tracks when he saw that I was in the room, too. He almost seemed shocked by the idea that Oliver had a roommate, even though we'd chatted briefly a few times. It made me wonder how much time he must have spent chilling with Oliver in our room while I was running all over campus trying to keep everything from crashing down on me.

"Oh, shit!" Thad exclaimed. "Case is here. I thought you'd dropped out or something. I haven't seen you in weeks."

It was bullshit. We'd seen each other in the bathroom a few days earlier. I'd brushed my teeth at the sink next to his. We'd even nodded at each other, even though neither of us had gone further than that.

"Chase," I corrected him.

"I'm horrible with names. I've just never been able to remember them. My mom said that, when I was eight, I called my viola teacher 'Daisy' for half a year before I realized her name was actually Rose. Too fucking funny! At least I knew it was a flower - better than nothing."

That seemed to track with what I'd learned about Thad. He had the demeanor of a bully who got what he wanted most of the time. I'd heard some of the other guys talking trash behind his back, but none of them seemed to have the balls to push back against him. Eventually, I'd learned that his dad was one of the best litigators in the country. None of the upper-crust freshman wanted to potentially piss off the kid of someone who might be able to help get them into law school in a few years.

A moment later, Conor and Rory barged into the room. I still hadn't learned to tell them apart; they were twins. They were both on the university wrestling team. They were in the same weight class, so they even competed against one another. I imagined how confusing it must be for the referees to not mix them up.

Just likes their names implied, they both looked incredibly Irish. They had spikey reddish-orange hair and bright green eyes. The tans they'd gotten over the summer were fading to reveal their naturally porcelain skin tone and accentuate the smatterings of freckles across their cheeks.

"What they fuck's going on in here?" twin number one asked. "You getting ready or are you jerking each other off?"

"Jerking each other off," twin number two repeated with a chuckle.

"You two would know about that," Thad replied slyly. "Wouldn't you?"

"Screw you, Thad," twin number two said. "That wasn't jerking off. Why you gotta lie like that? Also, it was a dare!"

"And we were both soft!" twin number one interjected. "Don't go making up shit like that, man."

I was taken aback. I tried my best to not let my confusion show on my face. I'd never ran with the type of guys who'd dare each other to do something so - so queer.

"You're acting like we didn't all just see it happen last week," Thad goaded them. "One of you was definitely getting hard."

I figured that Thad wanted each one to accuse the other of being the pervert who started to pop a boner while his twin was cradling his dick. It didn't sit right with me.

"So, what's this party tonight?" I asked, attempting to offer the twins an out.

Thad glared at me; his icy blue eyes flickered with intensity, and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a half-snarl.

"Sigma Chi is having a house party," twin number one said, looking relieved. "Nothing too major -- just the brothers, some friends, and a few chicks. There'll be lots of booze, so that's good."

"He's coming?" twin number two asked Oliver.

"Yeah," Oliver said halfheartedly. "I mean, why not?"

Thad rolled his eyes. The twins kind of shrugged; I don't think either of them cared. Part of me was thinking about bailing, but I knew that it would just create more distance between me and the guys in the dorm.

"I haven't seen you around much," twin number one said. "You crashing at your girlfriend's dorm most of the time?"

"Nah - no girlfriend. Just busy with lots of stuff."

The twins nodded in unison. It was rather eerie - like a deleted scene from The Shining or something.

"I don't mean this to sound rude," I said, "but which one of you is Rory and which one is Conor?"

They both smirked. I knew it must be something they got asked all the time. It was cool they didn't seem bothered by it.

"Rory has a teeny scar right here," Conor said, pointing to his brother's chin. "He got it falling off his bike."

"Falling? You pushed me, dickhead."

"Shut your..."

"You need to just..."

"Hey," Thad shouted while sidling up next to me. "Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum - you both need to chillax. Nobody gives a shit about your bike drama."

The twins stopped mid-sentence. They didn't seem fazed at all. It was almost as if they were used to being told what to do and blindly following the commands of the person with the most social cache in the room.

"Let's hit the road," Thad commanded. "Time for lil Chasey here to experience his first Sigma Chi party."

Thad reached down and started to tousle my shaggy, sandy-brown mop. I bit my lip. I'd always hated it when supposed alpha guys would do shit like that to remind me of the fact that I was shorter than most other dudes.

What a douche, I thought to myself. He looked like the preppy asshole bully in a cheesy movie. He had his dress shirt unbuttoned so far that half of his chest was showing. He'd perched his aviators atop of his gel-covered, jet-black hair. He'd even popped his collar. Not even a douche - a caricature of a douche.

We made our way out of the building. Oliver made a quick call on his Nokia to let Jeremy know that he was bringing an extra person. In a few short minutes, we'd all loaded into Thad's yellow Hummer. I'd somehow been assigned to the middle back seat between the twins.

"May I have your attention please?" blared over the speakers as the car started. "May I have your attention please? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?"

The music was so loud that I could barely hear myself think. I could see Oliver and Thad chatting as the car shifted into drive, but I couldn't make out any of their words.

"You hook up with any hot chicks?" Rory yelled from my right side.

"Nah, not yet," I replied. "What about you?"

"Just a few," he said. "I'm just trying to keep things casual. I don't want to get locked into something this early in college."

"Stop being a dick," Conor said from my other side. "What's your problem with Jessa, bro?"

"She's fine. I just think you're an idiot to date her. You could be pulling a new chick every night, but you're tied down now."

"Well, having the same pussy is better than have no pussy. I'm the only one of us guaranteed to get lucky tonight."

They bickered for a bit with me stuck in the middle, dodging the verbal firefight happening between them. Luckily, the frat house was only a five-minute drive away from the dorms, so I didn't have to suffer for too long.

"We should try to get Chase laid," I heard Rory say to his brother out of the blue.

"Sure," Conor replied with a shrug. "I can introduce him to a few of Jessa's friends. I can't promise anything, though."

"Don't worry about me, guys," I said. "I'll be fine."

It took Thad a few minutes to find a parking spot big enough for his behemoth. As we all walked towards the frat house, it was overflowing with frenetic energy. There was a line of people waiting to be let in. It was obvious that the two brothers assigned to the door were screening out the duds and letting in the chicks that looked that most fuckable.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of the wannabe bouncers asked as we approached.

"Oliver Van Pelton," Oliver said. "I'm friends with Jeremy. I'm on the list, and so are my friends."

The burlier of the two frat brothers flipped through a packet of papers. He examined it like it was an ancient text in need of deciphering. Eventually, he slowly nodded at his counterpart.

"All good, brother," the gatekeeper said. "Any friend of Jeremy's is a friend of Sigma Chi."

We made our way into the packed house. The furniture had been removed from the main room. There must have been at least fifty people jammed inside the small space. I was certain that there had to be a few other rooms overflowing with people as well.

"What a shit show," Thad said. "Come back this way."

Thad led us through the crowd. We went down a hallway that led to another open space. I think it was supposed to be a dining room, but there was no table or chairs. I was actually relieved there were only about two dozen people in it.

"We're going to go get some drinks," Oliver said. "Start figuring out which of the chicks look DTF."

Thad and Oliver headed into what I assumed was a kitchen stocked with booze. The twins and I talked about which of the girls looked the hottest. Even though Conor was supposedly in a relationship, he didn't seem worried about letting his eyes wander.

To be honest, they all looked good to me. The ugly ones hadn't made it into the building. It was a solid mix of former prom queens and cheerleaders. They all seemed like the type of girls who'd received their grandmother's heirloom pearls when they'd graduated from high school. In terms of dating, they were out of my league, but they were still fun to look at.

"The redhead has great tits," I said.

"Thanks," Conor replied, pretending to grope at his pecs.

"I call dibs on any redheads," Rory said. "It's ginger privilege."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. He went on a mildly funny rant about the struggles of being ginger and how only he could truly understand her.

"Here you go," Thad said as he stopped in front of me. "For you."

He pushed the red Solo cup from his left hand into my mitts. He then grabbed one of the two cups balanced on his right palm and gave it to Conor. A second later, Oliver appeared and handed Rory one of the cups he was holding.

I'd never been too keen on parties. Where I'd grown up, they just weren't a thing. Kids would gather at bowling alleys and arcades, but we'd never taken over our parents houses to throw ragers. I was beginning to feel my nerves getting the best of me as I looked around the room.

All of the girls appeared to be too perfect. They all had the same nose - probably from the same surgeon. Gucci. Chanel. Louis Vuitton. The handbags casually draped from their dainty arms announced their wealth. It was an unfamiliar world, even though I'd been grinding away on its periphery for weeks.

I took a giant swig of my drink. What the fuck? I almost muttered. The back of my throat lit up with heat. I had to will myself not to choke.

"Bacardi 151," Thad said with a smirk. "Thought a working-class boy like you would be able to hold his liquor."

My cheeks were overcome with warmth. The twins giggled at my noticeable discomfort. Oliver shook his head; he seemed a little embarrassed by my reaction.

They all took swigs of their drinks. None of them seemed to be bothered. I realized that they'd probably been drinking high-proof liquor the entire time they'd been attending their fancy prep schools. I'd only been able to steal the occasional beer my dad kept in the garage fridge.

"You should try the blonde," Rory said, gesturing towards a girl standing on the other side of the room with her friend. "Her name's Penny."

She was hot, but I was doubtful. Unlike most of the other girls in the room, she wasn't smiling. She seemed like she didn't really want to be there.

"They call her Penny-tration for a reason," Conor said while making a gesture of his right index finger sliding into the hole he'd created with his left hand.

I tossed back some more booze. What the hell, I thought. This is what I wanted, right? I could've just gone to bed. Still, I already knew I wasn't really going to try to hook up with her - or at least that's what I told myself so that I wouldn't get inside my own head.

I marched across the room. Penny's busty friend gave her a not-so-subtle signal that someone was approaching. I could tell that she was trying to act like she hadn't been tipped off.

"... completely unbelievable, right?" she said to her companion.

Her friend just nodded and smiled. I knew that it was my opening. I quickly gulped down another mouthful of fire. The booze nearly singed my throat as I swallowed.

"How's it going?" I asked. "Having a fun time?"

Penny turned towards me to better see who had been brave enough to approach her. A mischievous smile appeared on her face. Her friend started giggling. I knew what was about to happen.

"No thanks," she said with a fake sweetness.

"I was just..."

"I'm not interested."

"I just wanted..."

"Sorry, little man. You must be this tall to ride."

She held up her right hand and positioned it so that it was several inches above my head. She looked incredibly pleased with herself. It wasn't like I hadn't heard it before, though. Bitch, I nearly mumbled as I walked away.

"Epic fail," Thad announced as I came back over to the group. "Maybe you should have brought a step stool with you."

The other three guys chuckled at my humiliation. Rory caught himself, though. He stopped after just a few seconds. "She seems like kind of a bitch," he said, echoing my thought. "Dodged a bullet, Chase."

I just nodded. I could feel my heart speeding up; I wasn't sure why. I'd competed in front of loads of people, but I was more nervous than I'd been in ages.

From there, we took turns. Oliver approached a petite chick in a floral dress. He came back a few minutes later. Apparently, she was trying to do a long-distance thing with her boyfriend at another school. He didn't peg her as the type to cheat.

Rory went over to a trio of girls. It was pretty clear that he was peppering them all with compliments in hopes that one would take the bait. Out of the blue, one of the girls threw her drink in his face and they all stormed away.

"What the fuck happened?" Oliver asked as he returned.

"I asked her what it was like being the 'normal one' with two models for friends," he replied.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Oliver inquired.

"It's this negging thing he's been trying," Conor answered for him. "I keep telling him he's doing it wrong."

Around that time, I finished my first cup. My head was starting to feel warm - but in a good way. The tension in my neck that had been mounting disappeared. Surprisingly, Thad offered to go fetch more drinks. Rory and I took him up on the offer.

"What about you?" I asked him when he returned. "You too chicken to take a chance?"

"Chicken?" Rory repeated in disbelief that I'd called Thad out.

I couldn't believe I'd said it. It didn't even make sense. On some level, I knew that a guy like Thad wouldn't have any problem hooking up with one of the girls in the room. My comment was more about my wishful thinking of seeing him fail than anything else.

"Watch this," Thad said as he foisted his drink into Conor's free hand.

He walked straight towards one of the hottest girls in the room. I'd noticed her earlier, but didn't have to nerve to even comment on her beauty. He tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and smiled; he leaned in and started making out with her.

Fuck my life, I thought to myself. It's always the assholes.

The four of us kept talking while Thad played tonsil hockey. I felt a minor sense of relief when Rory spilled the fact the girl Thad had approached was a sorority chick that he had a 'friends with benefits' agreement with. It made me feel better than thinking it was possible for him to just pull any chick he wanted without exchanging a single word.

Eventually, Oliver approached another group and Conor went outside to make a phone call. Rory and I chatted about how college had been going so far. I was starting to think that he was probably the coolest one of them.

I was teetering on the thin line between buzzed and drunk. I felt really, really good. Everything happening around me seemed to be like a mellow symphony. I had enough sense to not get a third cup of booze after I'd finished the second one, though. I didn't want to be hurling all night long.

"Jesus Christ, I'm horny," Rory said out of nowhere. "I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I don't find a bitch to fuck tonight. It's been over a week. Can you believe that shit?"

"Better than me," I half-slurred.

"That's rough, man. When's the last time you got your dick wet?"

Normally, my defenses would have been up. I would have been able to give my stock bullshit answer. The alcohol had scrambled my brain, though. Everything in my mind felt like it was floating away like leaves on a stream.

"Never."

I immediately regretted it. Rory's eyes opened wide; his mouth hung agape. I was trying think of something to say - anything. In hindsight, it would have been easy to follow it up with, "I'm just fucking with you." In that moment, I couldn't even think to say that.

"Oh," he said. "Are you religious or something?"

"Kind of... but I'm not crazy religious or anything."

An odd silence hung in the air. It felt like any inroads I'd made with Rory had immediately vanished. He may have been able to accept that there were some decent lower-middle class guys my age, but being a virgin seemed to be a bridge too far.

"I... I..." I stuttered.

"What's up, fuckface?" Conor asked his brother as suddenly reappeared.

"Who you calling fuckface, fuckface?" Rory replied with a chuckle.

I'd been on the verge of asking him not to tell Oliver. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't want my roommate to see me as being a loser who couldn't even hook up with a chick. To be fair, I probably could have if I'd tried. I'd just prioritized other things, like devoting myself to gymnastics.

"You two are such retards!" Thad chided the twins as he came back into the fold. His mouth was tinted with lipstick. There were beads of sweat clinging to his hairline. Clearly his makeout session had overheated him. "What are we talking about?"

"Chase is a virgin," Conor said nonchalantly.

"Dude?" I eked out.

"What? I heard you say it when I was coming back from my call. Was it a secret or something?"

"A virgin!" Thad hollered. "That's hilarious. Little Chasey-wasey is a virgin! I can't believe I'm hearing this shit!"

I looked at Rory; he glanced out into the crowd. My heart was pounding in my chest. It felt incredibly at odds with the buzzed mellow sensation that'd been happening in my body. It was like an airhorn interrupting one of Beethoven's symphonies.

"Can't believe you've never fucked a pussy, man," Thad teased. "It feels so amazing. You can't even imagine it. It's like a bazillion times better than jerking off."

Shame was starting to bubble up deep inside of me. I'd always known I'd failed in some way by not having sex before college, but being put on blast by the three of them just confirmed what I'd tried to ignore.

"Like warm apple pie," Conor said playfully.

"What?" Thad asked.

"You know," he responded, "it's from that movie where the girl sticks the flute in her pussy. The virgin guy asks what sex feels like and one of his friends says, 'Like warm apple pie.'"

I wasn't sure what was happening, but I could sense a shift. A huge smile spread across Thad's face. He'd transitioned from cackling hyena to serene monk in mere seconds. "I have the perfect girl for you, bro," he said. "She may not be a looker, but she's a sure thing. You've gotta start somewhere. Don't want to be a virgin on your deathbed."

I didn't have time to react. He threw his arm around me and propelled us so that we were both walking towards the kitchen. The twins were whispering as they followed close behind us. I knew that something bad was going to happen. I knew that I should just leave... but I didn't.

A blow-up doll? A three-hundred-pound grandma who does dishes for the frat? Literally a female dog? My mind was checking off all the things I thought might be behind the door. I already knew enough about Thad to figure out that there was a punchline waiting on the other side.

I frantically scanned the room as we walked into it. There were about eight frat brothers milling about; the identical enamel pins they were wearing made it easy to tell. A few were mixing drinks while the others were just talking. In the center of the room, there was a large kitchen island that was covered with a couple bowls of chips and pretzels. One of the guys was shoveling Doritos into his mouth.

There weren't any girls, though. That was a huge relief. I didn't want Thad's douchebag joke to hurt another person. To my surprise, I didn't see any blow-up dolls or canines either. I still couldn't figure out what Thad was trying to do.

"Hey, guys!" Thad shouted, putting all of the attention on us.

"Hey, Thad," a few of them replied.

"Have you seen that movie?" he asked before looking at the twins. "What's it called, Conor?"

"American Pie."

"Have you seen American Pie?"

"Who the fuck hasn't?" a basic-looking bro with a goatee answered.

"Holy shit!" another one chimed in. "I almost jizzed my pants when the foreign exchange student got naked."

"What about Stiffler's mom?" a ruddy-cheeked guy with a noticeable beer belly said. "Give me a MILF any day of the week."

"One time at band camp," another guy said playfully, "I stuck a flute in my pussy."

The whole bunch of them burst out laughing. My body shook as Thad's reverberations made their way into my core. I still didn't understand what was going on.

"Well," Thad said, "we got a real live virgin here."

My face turned beet red as he gestured to me. I gazed down at the stained tile floor; I didn't have it in me to see them all act shocked.

"How the fuck is that even possible?" someone asked.

"And I'm supposed to care?" another replied.

"It's just that little Chase here really, really wants to know what pussy feels like... but he's too much of a loser to get any girl to fuck him. I mean, look at these clothes. Kid shops in the Goodwill clearance section."

That was all it took for the crowd to hone in on me - to recognize what they might've just ignored for the whole night if their king douche hadn't decided to put it front and center.

"Are those Steve Madden's?" Goatee asked. "My gardener wears those!"

"I... I think I should go," I mumbled.

Thad secured his massive arm even tighter around me. He pretended like he hadn't heard me. He didn't even look in my direction to acknowledge that I'd spoken. "Anyways," he said, "I told the kid that the guys at Sigma Chi are pussy hounds. Was I lying?"

"Hell no!" a few of them shouted.

"Then what better place for him to have his first sweet, sweet piece of pie than with the experts - no, sexperts - to give him pointers?"

I was completely confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. Is he going to bring back some girl and try to get me to fuck her in the kitchen? Does the frat have some local prostitute on call that he's going to invite over? My stomach gurgled.

Thad looked at the twins. One of them came over and took his place next to me while he walked towards the center of the room. I was too busy trying to figure things out to bother to look for the scar on my new captor's chin.

Thad removed the bowls of pretzels and chips from the kitchen island. He wedged them into any open space he could find on the other countertops. Then he walked over towards the oven. There was a box on top of it.

What's in the box? I wanted to yell, a la Brad Pitt. I bit down on my lower lip to keep from saying anything. My head was spinning from the overwhelmingly disorienting mixture of liquor and anxiety.

"No fucking way!" Beer Belly, the self-proclaimed MILF lover, roared as Thad carried the box towards the kitchen island.

Thad carefully set it down on the slab on marble. He stared me down; I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't look away. He slowly, ceremoniously opened the lid.

"Apple pie?" I muttered as I made sense of what I was seeing.

"No, no," Thad corrected me. "This isn't just apple pie. This is the closest thing a loser virgin can get to pussy. This is your new girlfriend. You're going to break in her tight little cunt."

"No way, man," I said as I tried to pull away from the twin at my side. He dug his fingers deep into my bicep. That was all the time it took for one of the unnamed frat bros to corner me from the other side and grab hold of my elbow.

Thad lifted the pie from the box and carried it towards me. I could already imagine him smashing it into the crotch of my cheap jeans that he'd been ragging on. I was picturing my walk of shame out of the party with bits of crust and apple goo covering the front of my lap.

"Should I do it, guys?" Thad asked the half-drunk frat bros.

He positioned the pie so that it was tilted right in front of my zipper. I didn't even attempt to fight. I knew that the other guys would just tackle me if I tried.

"Smash the pie into his dick!" a guy with a fresh-looking buzzcut cheered.

"He's going to love it," Goatee said teasingly.

"Hold up," Thad interjected. "Let give him the real experience."

He traipsed back over to the kitchen island, where he set the apple pie down in the center while tossing the box onto the floor. He grabbed a knife from the countertop nearby. He started to making an incision into the flaky, light-brown crust covering the top.

Before he was even done carving, he fished one of his fingers into the hole, scooped out a couple of pieces of apple, and popped them into his mouth. A few moments later, he stopped to admire his handwork. He'd created a slit-like opening in the center of the pie that was wider in the middle and tapered at the ends. It was obvious what he'd tried to model it after.

"It's pie pussy!" Buzzcut said with a titter.

"'Pussy pie' sounds better," another one chimed in.

Everyone in the room was waiting. Thad was the ringmaster and they were the lions; I was whatever the ringmaster fed to the lions.

"How long does a virgin usually last?" Thad asked, pretending it was some deep question.

"Twenty minutes," Goatee said.

"Lying piece of shit," another guy replied. "Probably more like twenty seconds for you."

"Never as long as they wish," Beer Belly said. "Feels too fucking good the first time."

"What about you?" Thad asked him directly.

"I don't know," Beer Belly replied. "Maybe five minutes?"

"No way in hell this punk would last five minutes!" Thad proclaimed. "I'd stake my life on it."

My lungs were working overtime. I was having a hard time catching my breath. I could see my pecs rising and falling as I struggled to get enough air.

"Just jam the pie in his crotch already," one of the frat brothers called out.

"Fuck no," Thad said. "Little Chase here isn't getting off that easy. He's going to make love to this pie. He's going to fuck this pie."

I almost couldn't believe what he was saying. There's no way I'm ever going to fuck an apple pie while these guys watch me do it, I told myself. It's just not going to happen.

An indescribable sense of excitement filled the room. A group of frat boys who consumed hazing like it was one of the major food groups was getting offered a victim on a plate. They hadn't expected it, but they were delighted nonetheless.

"Come on, boys," Thad said, "let's give him a little encouragement. Fuck the pie! Fuck the pie! Fuck the pie!"

It only took a few repetitions for the others to join him in the chant. Even the twins took up the refrain. Any remaining hope I'd had for Rory still being an ally went out the window.

I started shaking my head.

"Fuck the pie! Fuck the pie! Fuck the pie!" they chanted in near unison.

With each passing moment, the crazed energy in the room grew a little more. Something about the rhythmic slogan was pulling them closer together as a group, and it was placing me directly in their crosshairs.

"Come on, dude," Buzzcut said mockingly, taking a break from the chant. "You know that pussy is going feel like da' bomb."

"Your girlfriend is waiting for you," Goatee said. "You don't even have to wear a condom. It's not like she can get pregnant."

His comment derailed the chant. The guys burst out into uproarious laughter. It was the polar opposite of funny to me, though. It was dread woven together with anxiety and doused in fear.

"He can even creampie her," another guy taunted.

I again thought about trying to wrench myself away from my captors. Dashing away while they were distracted would have been the best option. When I went to do it, my feet were frozen to the floor. I was having the paralyzing stage fright that other gymnasts battled with for the first time; it just wasn't happening during a competition.

"No, no," I said, attempting to use my voice since my feet were useless.

"Guess it's not happening, guys," Thad said. "It's a shame, too. I would have bet each of you one hundred dollars that he couldn't last a full five minutes."

"What?" Goatee asked. I could almost hear the cash register sound cha-chinging in his mind.

"My bad," Thad clarified. "I guess it's not technically a bet since none of you could lose. It was more of me just putting my money where my mouth is. Like, I would have given you each the cash if little man had lasted longer than five minutes. Looks like Chase just saved me a thousand bucks."

The guys all started to crowd around me. I felt like a fox trapped in a snare. I was about to fight for my life.

"Just fuck the pie, bro!" Buzzcut shouted in my face.

"You're doing this," another one said. "I never turn down free money."

The guys began to grab at my body. Between the dudes yanking on my shirt and the two prison wardens at my side, I started to get dragged towards the kitchen island. My survival instinct finally began to kick in; I dug my heels into the tile floor.

"Just pick him up," Beer Belly yelled. "For God's sake, he's like five feet tall."

I felt myself being hoisted into the air. I angled my toes downward in a desperate attempt to make contact with the floor. It was no use.

"Hold up, guys," Thad said, causing everyone to stop in their tracks. "Nobody wants their first time to be fully clothed with just their dick sticking out. It should be romantic. Nothing says romance like buck naked. Not one stitch of clothing - no shoes, no socks."

"No, no," I muttered.

The members of the mob looked at one another. I could sense that at least a few of them thought it was too much. They'd been on board with making me fake hump a pie so that I ruined my jeans, but they weren't sure about facilitating a legit pastry sex show.

"Did I say one hundred dollars each?" Thad asked. "Because I meant to say two hundred dollars."

I didn't even have time to react before I felt a pair of hands tearing my shirt away from my body. All of the buttons rained down on the floor as the greedy hands shredded it.

"Get his pants!" Buzzcut yelled.

"No!" I hollered. "Stop! Let me down!"

It was a whirlwind of chaos. I could feel fingers at my waist undoing my jeans. Each of my shoes were yanked from my feet. I started to wriggle, trying to squirm to freedom. The guys hoisting me in the air just tightened their grips.

They struggled with my socks. I tried to kick at them, but someone grabbed my ankles. It wasn't long before I was barefoot. Next, my jeans were pulled down my tree-trunk thighs. I watched in terror as they were snatched from my body.

Several of them were literally tearing my shirt into pieces. It was the only way they could strip it all the way off of me without having to lower me to the ground. Bits of fabric tumbled down on top of my other clothing.

Their hands grabbed at my flesh as they stripped me. Huge paws massaged my thighs. Fingertips grazed my sensitive nipples as they worked to destroy my shirt. Someone's hand had even fondled my nuts while he'd struggled to undo my zipper. It was extremely overwhelming. It felt kind of unexpectedly stimulating.

The chaos suddenly stopped. It was like the eerie stillness at the center of a hurricane. I glanced down at my last remaining piece of clothing: my black boxer briefs. To my utter dismay, I could see that my cock had plumped up considerably.

"Let's see what we got here," Thad said, pushing his way to the middle of the crowd. "Let's see if 'Little Man' is little everywhere."

"No, you need to..." I mumbled.

Thad yanked my underwear down with such force that my partially-plump dick rebounded up and smacked me in the abs before it flopped back down again. I silently thanked God that it wasn't so hard that it was standing at attention.

"Not so little," the twin holding me in place said. Noting the lack of a scar, I finally realized that it was Conor.

All of the guys gathered around me appeared awestruck. I'd always known that I was blessed in the dick department. I'd even joked to friends that the extra inches I'd been meant to have in height had been added to the wrong place.

My girthy, partially-erect seven-inch rod swung down between my legs. It had already filled with enough blood so that it was thicker than my wrist. Two large veins ran down each side of it. The head didn't quite flare into a full mushroom, but it was still fatter than the rest of my shaft.

"Congrats, buddy," Goatee said unexpectedly.

"Probably better he starts with a pie," Buzzcut chimed in. "He could destroy a girl with that thing if he doesn't use it right."

Thad didn't look as pleased as the others, and it was obvious why. He'd been hoping to mock and belittle me even more, but it's tough to belittle something big. He wasn't the dumbest bully I'd ever met. He knew it was a bad idea for the crowd to start laughing with the chosen victim rather than at them.

"Get him up on the countertop," Thad instructed. "Don't want his girlfriend getting cold feet."

Just as quickly as I'd gained some respect, I lost it all. The mob guided me through the air; it almost felt like I was flying. I was corralled so that I was on my knees right in front of the pie. Most of the guys backed away, but Conor kept hold of my right bicep. I peered over to my left to see that Rory was taken up as my warden on the other side.

"Fuck the pie!" they started chanting again. "Fuck the pie! Fuck the pie!"

My head was spinning. This can't really be happening, I thought. This has to be a dream. I started gently swaying to the left. The booze was taking its toll. I felt half awake; my mind was racing and then stalling every few seconds.

"No," I said. "I can't."

I scanned the crowd surrounding me. They were hungry for blood. Spittle was flying from their mouths as they hollered their refrain. The veins on their necks were bulging. They weren't going to stop.

"Just bring it to him!" Goatee interrupted.

I craned my head to look towards the door to the left of me. As if sensing my desperate desire to make a run for it, the twins clamped their hands down on my arms. Each one used a mitt to dig into my massive biceps and another to hold onto my elbow. There was no escape.

"She looks awfully pretty," Thad said as he scooped up with pie and squeezed in next to Conor. He angled it so that it was a few inches in front of my flaccid cock. A surge of adrenaline rushed through me. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end.

The chanting slowly fizzled out. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

"Here we go," Thad said. "Chase is about to lose his V-card."

My body began to tremble. No, no. It was all I could think. I can't do it. I won't do it.

Thad slowly pushed the pie towards my crotch. I watched, horror-struck, as my cock head slid right into the opening that he'd carved out a few minutes earlier. My rod slipped beneath the surface of the crust as Thad forced my cock in deeper.

Holy fuck! I very nearly cried it out. A lightning bolt struck my core. The overwhelming sensation in my dick was truly unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. The feeling of my cock forcing its way into the gooey apple filling was a million times better than my lotion-covered hand.

"I think he likes it!" someone shouted out.

"Is that pussy nice and tight?" Beer Belly asked teasingly.

Thad started sliding the pie plate tin around. The underside of my dick was gliding across the warm filling while the slippery apples massaged my thick tool. It felt like some fucked-up sex toy I could have never imagined existing.

The blood flowed - no, flooded - to my cock. Oh, fuck. That's good. I glanced down to see the root of my dick firming up even more as my rod slipped around below the surface of the crust. It was pure bliss.

"What the fuck," Rory said with a chuckle. "He's too big for it."

Everyone looked more closely to see what he meant. My dick had been wedged into the tight opening; it had barely fit. As it grew, the crust around the opening was beginning to crack. My cock was literally tearing the apple-pie pussy apart.

"For fuck's sake," Thad said. "You're going to kill the girl, bro. You gotta give her some time to warm up."

The drunken frat boys cackled in unison. Thad pulled the pie away. My rock-hard boner slipped out of the ersatz pussy. I knew I shouldn't have, but I'd thoroughly enjoyed how my dick had felt gliding out of its gooey hole.

"No fucking way!" Buzzcut shouted.

"He's a virgin with a porn star cock!" someone else hollered.

"Dude got nerfed with his height," Conor said. "With a dick that big, he'd be drowning in pussy if he wasn't a midget."

My cock had grown to nine-and-a-half inches. Obviously, I'd measured it enough times to know. Even slicked up with a yellow goop that was speckled with spices and bits of pastry, there was still no hiding just how huge it was.

"He's loving it," one of members of the mob called out.

"How's your first piece of pussy pie feel, kid?" Beer Belly asked as he patted me on the shoulder.

I didn't say anything. I just gazed down at my cock; it was radiating with energy. I felt incredibly horny. It had been a solid three weeks since I'd spanked the monkey in the dorm showers; I'd just been too busy and too tired.

"Good," I slurred out before feeling immediate regret about my candor.

"I can't believe it!" Goatee exclaimed. "Kid's a beast!"

"This is so fucked up," someone else said, "but in the funniest way possible."

I was drowning in a flood of emotions. A frenzied horniness was raining down on me like a waterfall. I couldn't fight back; I felt like I was going under. Small currents of shame and anxiety tried to pull me away from everything else, but they were no match.

"Looks like the kid is ready to fuck," Thad said joyfully as he set the pie in the center of the kitchen island. "Let's get five minutes on the clock. If he lasts longer, you'll all be two hundred dollars richer."

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guys pressing some buttons on the oven. It only took me a moment to realize he was starting the countdown. A loud beeping sound announced that the challenge I'd been forced to compete in had begun.

"Come on, buddy," Buzzcut said. "Tear that pussy up!"

"Don't go too hard," someone else chimed in. "You gotta last longer than five minutes, bro."

Then all the guys were talking to one another and cat-calling me simultaneously; any other specific words of wisdom, encouragement, or derision were lost to the cacophony. Several hands gave me encouraging swats on the back. Seconds later, someone gave my peachy bubble butt a hard thwack. The feeling vibrated through my cock. I was harder than I'd ever been in my life.

I peered down at the pie. I wanted nothing more than to ram my cock back inside of it and fuck it until I unloaded into its center. The small part of me that was remotely still in control fought back.

"Pie Fucker!" "Apple Pie Pussy Boy!" "Pastry Perv!" "Pie-fucking Virgin!"

Despite the fact that I could already hear the potential nicknames, I knew I didn't want to actually hear them - especially since I knew I'd be hearing them for the remainder of my four years at college at least.

"No," I said meekly. "I can't. I can't."

That brought some focus back to the crowd's energy. "Come on, kid," Goatee said. "We know you like it. We have eyes, after all.

"It's just five minutes," someone else chimed in. "We promise nobody else will ever know."

A few of the guys piled on their reassurances; they must have decided that it was my only reason for not wanting to fuck a pie in front of a group of frat boys. Embarrassingly, it was my main reason, even if it wasn't the only one.

"Kid doesn't want to do it," Thad said with a blasé tone. "Deal's off. Let him down from the table."

Chaos erupted.

"No way!"

"You can't just go back on a deal, bro! You can't do that!"

"You're trippin', Thad! You can't just take back a bet like that!"

Goatee even pushed Thad on his chest to get him to back down, which would have been suicide if it hadn't all been part of the king douche's plan. Even though I was in the center of the madness, I somehow felt removed from what they were all feeling. I'd never been promised any money; only they had.

"Guys!" Thad hollered. "Guys! It's not a fair game! Look at the timer. It's already been thirty seconds and he's not even doing anything. If I'm betting you cold, hard cash that he can't last five minutes balls-deep in some pie pussy, why would I pay out when there's no action at all?"

The guys looked at one another. They started to understand what Thad was telling them.

"Get in there, boy!" Goatee yelled at me.

"Fuck that pussy, kid!" a deep voice hollered.

I shook my head. The shouting was overwhelming me. It was too much.

Suddenly, I felt hands pressing on my back. A few of the guys were pushing me. They were trying to force me into action. My heart was about to explode out of my chest.

"What are you two doing?" Buzzcut asked the twins. "Help get him into position."

Hands were grabbing at me from all sides. At least eight sets of fingers were clawing at my arms. Palms were pressing against my spine. Desperate to win the bet, one guy was even pushing on my bubble butt.

What the fuck? What the fuck is happening? I knew I should fight back, but I couldn't ignore the fact that my cock was starting to throb. I was spinning out of control.

"Put his wrists behind his back," someone growled.

I felt my arms being wrenched behind me. I tried to pull away, but at least three guys were holding them in place. The hands pushing on my upper back made me want to tumble forward; another set of hands were keeping me from faceplanting.

I realized that I was being carefully lowered. I felt the tip of my hard cock sliding through the opening of the pie pussy. Ahhhh! I barely kept myself from moaning as my rod plowed into the gooey faux cunt. My glutes tensed up as a wave of pleasure washed over me.

"Fuck yeah!" Goatee shouted. "Game on!"

"Hell yeah, boy!" a generic frat boy cheered.

"We're going to let go of your arms," Beer Belly said, "but you need to use them to get into plank position. Got it?"

I didn't answer. All of my attention was on the sensations surging though my dick as the warm fruit filling worked its magic. The tin was just big enough to fit my monster. My tip was tapping against the side of the pan. Is this what it feels like to be balls deep in a real pussy? I pondered in my lustfully drunken haze.

"Got it?" Beer Belly repeated.

I nodded. The guys let go of my arms. The newfound freedom made me aware of just how uncomfortable I'd been. I pulled my arms in front of me and did a plank - my forearms were planted firmly against the marble countertop.

I held the position. It wasn't hard; I did planks several times a week at the gym. I knew I could hold myself in place for longer than they could imagine. Insane core strength is one of the super powers of being a jacked short dude.

I didn't move. I was too busy just enjoying the novel feeling lighting up the nerve endings in my dick. I was only half paying attention to anything else happening.

"That's not fucking, guys," Thad said with a smirk. "Deal's off."

"No way!"

"You can't do that!"

Shouts echoed throughout the room as the guys fought back. I felt a set of hands grab me by the hips. They yanked my ass higher into the air. Yes! Yes! The sensation of three quarters of my cock sliding out of the pie pussy was blowing my mind. Mere seconds later, the same hands pushed me deep inside again.

"Oh, fuck!" I moaned.

"Just make him do it," someone said. "Help me make him fuck the thing. It's not like he doesn't like it."

That's all it took. At least two hands pressed down on each of my ass cheeks. Several palms pushed against the back on my upper thighs. Large mitts hooked around the side of my waist, ensuring that they could yank me up when needed.

I'm not sure how, but they found a rhythm right away. The hands on my ass and thighs pushed down; my cock drove itself deep into the pastry pussy. Then I'd be yanked away from the warm goop that was enveloping my rod.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned as they pushed me so deep that my cock slit pressed against the side of the pie tin. "Fucking amazing."

"I think he's blissed out on fake pussy," someone teased.

"He's a drunk virgin," Conor said. "Must feel insane compared to his right hand."

The guys slowly guided me in and out. Their hands were digging into my flesh. I knew I was going to have handprints plastered on my ass the next day. I didn't mind, though. All I cared about was getting my nut.

After a minute or so, I started to thrust down on my own. It was just too good to resist. The guys pulled their hands away once they sensed what was happening. The bros who'd been pulling me off of the pie followed their lead and let go as well.

"It's... it's fucking great!" I half-slurred. "Oh my god! Oh my god!"

"He's going insane," Buzzcut said. "He's enjoying it too much. He doesn't want a speedy fuck. He's definitely lasting five minutes."

"Easy money," another bro chimed in. "Look at those slow thrusts. He knows how to pace himself."

"Fuck, yes!" I said slowly rocking my hips. "Just... uhhhhh... just like pussy."

I'd been staring into space. The feeling was so intense that I couldn't quite seem to focus on any single thing in the room.

"Make sure he keeps fucking," Thad said. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

I barely even heard him. My cock was throbbing insanely hard. Pre-cum was starting to trickle from my slit. My balls were pulling closer towards my body. My asshole was doing something it had never done; it felt like it was getting super tight with each thrust and then relaxing as I pulled out. It was all mind-blowing.

"Shit's fucking crazy," Rory said. "Can't believe I thought this loser might be a normal guy."

"Dude's about to nut in an apple pie," Beer Belly replied. "Ain't anything less normal."

I heard the hinges on the door squeaking as Thad rushed back into the room. I could see a blurry version of him approaching from the corner of my eye. He slid in between the guys so that he was right at my side.

"What the fuck are you doing with that?" Goatee asked.

"Mr. Spanky!" Beer Belly said with a chortle. "Come on, dude."

'Mr. Spanky?' What the fuck does that mean? It took all my energy to form the thought. The feeling on my cock plunging in and out of the pie was short-circuiting my brain.

"He's barely fucking it," Thad said. "I thought he could use a little motivation. If I'm the one offering to hand out free money, I get to make the rules."

Some of the guys laughed; others groaned. I still didn't know what was going on.

"How much time left?" Goatee asked.

"Two minutes," someone called from nearby the oven.

THWACK!

The deafening sound ripped through the room at the exact same moment that the pain shot through my body. My peachy bubble butt was in agony. The stinging sensation was almost crippling. I struggled to not collapse on top of the pie. I finally realized that "Mr. Spanky" must have been some paddle they used on the pledges.

THWACK!

"Why'd you stop fucking?" Thad asked cruelly. "Pick up the pace or I'm going to beat that ass raw."

"Holy shit, man," Rory said. "It's already red as hell. His ass looks like a tomato."

I froze for a moment. Everything was clashing inside of me. The horrendously painful stinging in my ass was battling it out against the euphoric sensation tantalizing my cock. It felt like watching the most stunning fireworks while being attacked by a mob of bees.

THWACK!

Tears welled up in my eyes. It was all the motivation I needed. I rocked in and out of the pie before Thad had a moment to lay another swat on my ass. I picked up the tempo. I hadn't expected it, but it felt like a whole different ball game.

"Fuuuuuccccckkkkkkk!" I bellowed.

It was transcendent. It was sublime. It was making me lose my goddamn marbles. I was on the verge of entering a psychosexual fugue state.

"Ahhhh!" I grunted as I hammered away. "Ohhhhh! Yessss!"

I widened my stance so I could thrust deeper. It didn't matter, since the pie tin wasn't exactly cavernous. I ground my hips; I could feel the top of the pie crust completely breaking apart. The gooey goodness inside started to cling to my trimmed pubes.

THWACK!

"Not fast enough," Thad taunted.

I pushed into a higher gear. I was about to become the Energizer Bunny of fucking. Everything inside of me felt like it was splintering apart. Flames radiated from my belly, lighting up every last one of my nerve endings.

"Joey, go get Wilson," Thad commanded one of the guys in the crowd.

"But he's..."

"I know. Just tell him we need him in here."

I could barely focus on the mob. They were gawking at me like I was an oddity at on old-fashioned circus. I could sense the bizarre mixture of excitement and contempt. Some of them were continuing to egg me on; others were trying not to laugh at my frenzied pie fucking.

"Ahhhh!" I moaned. "So good. So good."

I kept rocketing my hard rod in and out of the sugary-sweet pie hole. I thrust and rammed; I drove my cock in with all the intensity I could muster. My toes curled from the unadulterated bliss of it all.

"Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!"

I couldn't resist looking. I angled my head down to see what was making me feel incredibly close to going batshit crazy. My thick cock has plowing in and out of the destroyed pie. About eight inches would tunnel in before pulling back out. I was long-dicking a baked good.

My fat shaft was coated with sticky goo. Pieces of crust were breaking away from the pie with each ramming motion and crashing down onto the countertop. I swore I could literally see my dick throbbing so hard that it was pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

Suddenly, the door creaked.

"Hey, Thad," a new voice said. "Joey told me... What the fuck? What the hell is this shit?"

I couldn't look away. I was mesmerized by my own cock. Somehow watching it hammering away at the pie made all of the sparking sensations in my core feel more intense. It let me tune some of the other stuff out and just focus on the closest thing I'd ever felt to pussy.

"Just get it all, Wilson," Thad told him. "I'll owe you one."

"One minute!" the guy next to the oven called out.

"You can do it!" Beer Belly hollered. "Bring home the money!"

"Come on, bro!" someone else chimed in. "Don't let us down!"

It feels so amazing! I can't believe this is what pussy is like! I rammed balls deep so my slit was nearly bursting through the now-dented side of the tin. I held the position for just a moment. My eyes rolled back into my head. My mouth gaped open; I could barely breathe.

It was the fear of the paddle that pulled me out of my fleeting hiatus. Then, I felt something snap inside of me. I sensed some beast I'd kept locked away ripping the door off of its cage. I was turning feral.

"UHHH! UHHH! UHHHH! UHHHHHH!"

I jackhammered the pie's fuck-hole so hard that it was sliding back and forth on the marble with each thrust. The muscles in my thighs were burning; they were on the verge of spasming. Sweat was dripping down the back of my neck. My face was red with heat.

"Back away from the pie fucker," Thad said with a chuckle. "Make room for Wilson. I want him to get all of this."

I didn't know what he was saying; I didn't care. My eye was one the prize.

"Fuck yeah!" I grunted. "You like that. Take my fat cock!"

A handful of guys burst out laughing. It didn't faze me at all. I moved into hyperdrive. My hips were thrusting so fast and hard that it had to look humanly impossible.

"Ohhhh! Sweet fucking Jesus!" My nuts were dancing as they pulled deep into my sack. My dick was throbbing with unbelievable intensity; every time my heart beat reverberated inside of my thick rod, it felt like a bomb was exploding

I couldn't help myself. Even if I didn't know how to get it, I still needed more. I was ravenous. Without warning, a hand grabbed my hair. It yanked my head upwards.

There was something right in front of my face. I was too disoriented to make out what it was. I could see my reflection in the glass circle, though. I was dripping sweat, and my mouth was open as I struggled to get enough air. I looked like a train wreck.

I didn't stop. I kept fucking. I was close - so, so close.

"Say 'One time at Sigma Chi...'" Thad said playfully.

"What?" I asked through the sex-filled fog.

"Say it," he repeated.

I didn't just say it; I moaned it. "One time... uhhhhh... at Sigma Chi."

"Thirty seconds!" someone called out.

"One time at Sigma Chi," Thad said quickly, "I fucked an apple pie."

Oh fuck! I'm close! I'm so close! I knew I was crossing the threshold. There wasn't any turning back.

"Say it!" Thad commanded.

My moaning went halfway to shouting. "One time at Sigma Chi, I fucked an apple pie!"

It finally clicked that it I was being filmed. Wilson was pointing a handheld camcorder at me. The shame I should have felt couldn't compete with the sensation of my balls starting to pump out baby batter.

CREAK!

"What's going on in here?" Oliver asked. "What the...?"

"One time at Sigma Chi, I fucked an apple pie!" I repeated again. My brain was totally fried.

"Ten seconds!" the timer guy shouted. The mobs cheered; they were already planning how to spend their two hundred dollars.

"I'm... I'm..." I howled.

"Maybe I was wrong," Thad said. "Pull him off now. Times almost up anyways."

"What in the world is going on, Thad?" Oliver asked.

I drove my cock deep. I could feel the cum racing from my balls. I was about to experience my first creampie. It was going to be just like doing it with a real pussy - or so I'd been told.

The twins grabbed me by my arms. An indescribably desperation smacked me in the face. No, no! I wanted to shout as my wardens pulled me to my knees.

My goo-slathered cock was frantically waving around in the air. It was like a fire hose that someone had lost hold of. I knew what was about to happen.

"AhhhHhhHHHHHhhhh!" I bellowed.

A thick jet of cum rocketed out of my slit. It erupted with such intensity that it traveled the entire five-foot distance to the other edge of the kitchen island. My body was trembling; I was on the verge of collapsing.

"Holy shit!" Beer Belly shouted. "Pie Fucker's actually doing it! Crazy motherfucker is nutting!"

"That's so whack, man!"

"I can't believe it, bro. What a freak."

BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!

It was the timer on the oven. The noise made me quickly glance up. Thad had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. On the other hand, Oliver, who was standing next to him, looked horrified.

My cock angled down for the next spurt. The entire thick shot rained down right into the destroyed apple pie. It was the best orgasm I'd ever had. In just the first two jets, I'd already come more than in entirety of my heaviest load.

The guys kept laughing and teasing me as more ropes of cum spewed forth from my dick. The twins held me in place like they were somehow keeping me from attempting an escape that wasn't going to happen. The camera kept its focus squarely on me; I knew it was capturing every second of my humiliation.

I kept cumming and cumming and cumming. Each eruption made my body tremble with delight. I tried to forget the fact that I wasn't balls-deep in the pie while I shot my load like I'd wanted to be. Instead, I tried to just savor how earth-shatteringly good my nut felt.

After a solid ten jets of cum, I'd completely emptied my tank. The demolished apple pie was covered with a thick glaze of baby batter. I'd jizzed so much that there had to have been a few shot glasses worth of white gold covering the pastry.

Yet again, I was fucking exhausted. Maybe it was running myself ragged for six weeks, or maybe it was not having busted a load in ages. I felt like I'd just completed a triathlon. Better yet, it was like I'd my beat personal best in every event in a single gymnastics' competition. I was shattered.

"So, so close," Thad said mockingly. "Looks like I just saved two thousand bucks thanks to Pie Fucker here."

"What are you on about?" Beer Belly asked. "He totally made it!"

"Fuck yeah, he did," someone else chimed in.

"Sorry, guys," Thad said. "We can have Wilson roll back the tape if you want. The timer definitely went off after lil Chasey started shooting his load."

"I mean, I'll never turn down free money," Rory said, "but Thad's right. He didn't last the whole time."

I was in haze - part drunk drunk and part cum drunk. My mind was spinning. My eyelids were drooping with sleepiness. All of the adrenaline must have crashed my system. I still felt oddly good, though - like I was half-asleep in a tranquil dream.

"Bullshit," Goatee mumbled. A few more of the guys began to vent in hushed tones.

"Don't blame me," Thad said, before gesturing at me. "Blame him."

"What the hell?" Goatee hollered. "I could have stocked the fridge with beer."

"What a little bitch," someone else said. "Couldn't even hold on for an extra ten seconds."

"I'll teach you to fuck with my money," Beer Belly said angrily.

He took a step forward and picked up the pie. His lips were nearly pulled into a snarl; his eyes were fiery. He pushed the pie tin towards my face.

"You like the pie so much," he said. "Well, give it a lick then."

There was an awkward silence, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Then small rumblings of laughter emerged from the mob. My face turned a deeper shade of red; I shook my head. I couldn't string together any words to reply to him.

"Take the pie!" he said, foisting it into my hands as the twins finally released me from their clutches. "Just one lick, then you can go."

Of course I didn't want to, but I was practically on my last legs. The booze was still clouding my judgment, too. It's just one lick, I told myself. Then I can get dressed and go home.

I pulled the tin towards my face. I extended my tongue out as far as it would go. I carefully moved the destroyed, cum-covered apple pie towards my less-than-eager taste buds.

SMASH!

My face was in the pie. Someone had whacked the bottom of the tin with enough force to send it flying into me. It clattered to the floor seconds later.

A considerable amount of jizz-apple goop had made its way into my mouth. It was musky and salty, but just a little sweet. I wanted to retch; I managed to forced myself to swallow, though. I wiped around my eyes trying to clear away the mess before I opened them.

All of the frat boys were laughing louder than they had all night. For rich guys like them, watching me take a cum-covered pie to the kisser was probably better than getting the money.

"What a fucking loser," Goatee said.

"How's that cum tasting, little man?" someone else remarked snidely.

"Get this little faggot out of here," Beer Belly commanded.

Right as I was opening my eyes again, the twins yanked at my arms. I was swiftly lifted into the air and lowered to the floor. Something about feeling my feet firmly on the ground made everything seem more real all of the sudden.

"Come on," Beer Belly continued. "Hit the road. You're banished from Sigma Chi, Pie Fucker."

I glanced over at Oliver; a part of me still hoped he would stand up for his roommate. He looked away from me and locked eyes with Thad instead. It was clear that I was on my own. I didn't need to be told again. I just needed to put on my clothes and get the hell out.

I gazed down at the floor. I was sure it was the exact spot where I'd been stripped. I frantically scanned the tile trying to find my clothes. Some part of me already knew it was going to be bad.

"Where..." I muttered. "Where are my clothes?"

"Those things?" Thad sneered. "I thought those were rags. I tossed them when I went to fetch Wilson earlier."

The guys thought it was hilarious. I was standing there with a sticky post-orgasm boner, pubes smattered with pie crust, and an apple-cum mixture slathered across my face. Not letting me cover myself was an added bonus for them - just another day of over-the-top frat hazing.

"Come on," Beer Belly said as he walked towards me. "I'm not telling you again."

He was a big guy. He probably stood close to six-foot-five. He looked a lot like Oliver, aside from the extra padding in his midsection. I knew I couldn't win fighting back against him.

Beer Belly tried to grab me by the nape of the neck. I instinctively pulled away. In spite of my half-drunken state, I still had a natural urge to escape.

"It's like that, is it?" he chuckled.

Beer Belly stepped behind me and squatted down. He slipped his arms below each of my armpits. He pulled his hands behind me and planted them on the back of my skull. I'd seen pro wrestlers use the same move during their matches; I was completely trapped.

"Upsy daisy," he whispered teasingly into my ear.

What the fuck? No! No! I felt me feet pulling away from the floor. The asshole giant was literally standing while holding me in some type of a headlock. I tried to move my arms, but they just flailed around like a scarecrow. I was dangled against his chest like an infant in one of those baby carrier contraptions.

I glanced down. My size-tens were a solid foot away from the ground. My sticky cock was wildly waving as the thug kept me hoisted in the air. It was emasculating.

"Open the door, Johnny," Beer Belly said. "I gotta take out the trash."

God, no! No! No! No! My mouth went dry. Anxiety tried to pull me from my half-slumber.

"Pie Fucker, coming through!" Beer Belly hollered as he carried me into the room I'd been in earlier that night.

"That's disgusting!" a girl called out.

"That guy's naked!" a bearded guy chimed in. "His little feet can't even touch the ground."

"Bro's got a boner!" another guy screeched. "What the fuck is smeared on it?"

"Caught him fucking one of our apple pies," Beer Belly said. "Some of these work-study losers are just like dogs. They'll hump your leg if you don't shoo 'em away."

My heart was pounding as Beer Belly carried me through the room. I knew it was only taking a few seconds, but it felt like it was lasting an eternity. Cutting through the main room was even tougher. He had to holler for people to make a pathway. All of the kids I was supposed to spend the next four years with were watching me being evicted naked from a frat house with pie plastered all over my spent-but-still-hard near-ten-inch cock.

Beer Belly finally lowered me to the ground when we reached the front door. He yanked it open; there was a crowd of people outside still waiting to get in. They went dead silent when they saw me standing at the threshold.

"Make way!" Beer Belly hollered. "Pie Fucker coming through. Hide your baked goods, folks!"

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

"Get a move on," Beer Belly said before giving me a hard smack on the ass. It hurt more than I'd expected, but then I remembered that I'd just been paddled not too long before.

I nearly jumped outside from the stinging pain. The door slammed shut behind me. I looked at the stunned faces of the students gathered on the lawn. They eyes were bugging out; they were in utter shock seeing me standing there exposed.

I couldn't bear seeing their expressions a moment longer. I sprinted down the cement pathway leading to the side walk. I let me legs carry me as quickly as they could.

I did my best to cover my dick as I ran away. I finally stopped after I'd made it a few blocks. I veered into some shrubs in front of one of the other frat houses to catch my breath. What just happened? I asked myself again. This isn't real. This isn't real.

It was real, though. I could feel it in every part of my body. My sticky hard-on was proof I'd just fucked a pie. The gooey residue on my face was evidence that I'd gulped down my own jizz. The burning sensation on my buns was all I needed to know that I'd had my ass beaten bright red.

I glanced at the frat house porch. I thought about trying to knock on the door. I tried to tell myself that I could frame it as hijinks gone awry and perhaps get some help from one of the guys inside, but I just didn't believe it would lead to anything but another round of humiliation.

Instead, I went up and removed the American flag hanging from a pole on the stoop. I wrapped it around my waist. I was relieved to finally be covered.

I took the long route back to the dorm. Luckily, I only passed by a handful of people. Aside from sideways glances, they left me alone. I knew they had to assume that I was either completing some kind of childish dare or that I was drunk as a skunk - or both.

When I got back to the dorm, I managed to slip inside by tailing one of the guys from down the hall as he entered. I went to the communal laundry room and scavenged a pair of basketball shorts from the makeshift lost and found box in the corner. After that, I got my RA to let me into my room. I told him that I'd locked myself out when I'd went to use the bathroom.

I was well past the point of feeling depleted. The emotional ups and downs had been too much for me. I crashed onto my bed. Just go to sleep, I told myself. You'll wake up tomorrow and none of this will have happened. None of this is real. It can't be real. It was becoming my new mantra.

I woke up the next morning feeling disoriented and groggy. It was a little after 9 a. m.; I'd missed my shift at the bookstore. For a few minutes, when I was on the precipice of falling back asleep, everything felt fine. It was when I finally pulled myself out of bed to go take a piss that my supposed nightmare cemented itself as a being real life.

I realized that the shorts I was wearing weren't my own. No! No! No! I tugged at the waistband; peering down, I could see that the goopy mess had dried so that it was embedded into my pubes and sticking to my cock. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to barf.

I raced to the bathroom, but the urge to hurl had passed by the time I got there. I hopped into one of the showers and started cleaning myself. One some level, I still thought that making all the evidence go away would perhaps undo the past. I was wrong, of course.

The next two days were horrible. I realized just how quickly word had gotten around. I heard people whispering as I walked by them in the hallways. Their judgmental eyes drilled right through me. A few guys even shouted "Pie Fucker!" at me when they saw me crossing the campus quad. I recognized one of them from the party.

It got worse from there.

On my way back to the dorm from a shift at the bookstore, I was ambushed. A couple guys wearing ski masks jumped out at me from behind a corner. I froze in place as I saw something flying through the air at me. It collided with my face. It didn't hurt, but it shocked the hell out of me.

"Stick your dick in it, Pie Fucker!" the apparent leader shouted.

I looked down to see a McDonald's apple pie laying broken on the grass. Then, the next one hit me in the chest. The douchebags jeered as they lobbed dollar-menu grenades at me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. That wasn't an option though, so I bolted back to my dorm to hide.

By Monday, Oliver still hadn't come back; I assumed he was crashing at Thad's apartment. I didn't expect that he wanted to be around me after what had happened.

I skipped my beginning-of-the-week classes. I told myself that I just needed a few days to figure everything out. I knew there had to be some solution I wasn't seeing. I'd always been able to solve complex problems. Maybe if I keep a low profile, it'll all go away, I lied to myself. Surely one of these rich kids will do something worse, like assaulting a cafeteria worker or ditching their friend at the hospital after they overdose on coke. It was bleak and farfetched, but it was all that I had.

On Tuesday morning, I checked my email. There was a message titled: "Academic Misconduct." I couldn't handle another thing going wrong. It would break me. I clicked into the body of the message.

I scanned it quickly. It was incredibly short and offered no real detail. It just said that I had been reported by a professor for suspected cheating and that I needed to schedule a meeting to discuss the allegations. It was signed by the dean of academic affairs.

I tapped on the hyperlink. The screen that started to load didn't look right. The black background wasn't like anything I'd seen on the official university website. Seconds later, the words "One time at Sigma Chi..." appeared in bold neon green letter at the top of the page.

No. No! It can't be! They wouldn't! I felt like I'd just been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer.

I scrolled down. There was a video embedded in the middle of the page with the logo of a play button in the center. Below that, there were more bold neon green letters reading "I fucked an apple pie!"

I don't know why, but I clicked on the video.

It started with a close-up of my face. My eyes were half-closed and my cheeks were red. I looked straight into the camera and moaned, "One time at Sigma Chi, I fucked an apple pie!" Right as I was finishing, the video zoomed out to show me full-on fucking the pie on the countertop. I was grunting and hammering my cock into the tin like a madman. Somehow, it had been edited so that mine was the only face visible along with a few torsos.

The clip cut to another scene with no transition. It was me on my knees in front of the pie blasting a giant load of jizz into it. Seconds later, there was another jump. It was a close-up of me sticking out my tongue like I was about to lick my own cum from the center of the destroyed apple pie.

The video ended by switching to a photo. It was my face plastered with a sticky mixture of baby batter and gooey apple pie filling. "Chase Johnson, aka 'Pie Fucker,' Class of 2004" had been added to the bottom of the photo.

I should have felt mortified or pissed or ashamed, but none of it was there. I was totally numb. I just stared at the picture. I didn't know what to do. Everything was collapsing around me.

Eventually, I went back to the email. As I'd suspected, it had been sent to a group list that included every student on campus. All it would take was a few of my peers looking at it with the same fear I had to tell everyone else what was actually inside of the email. There was no other way to put it: I was fucked.

It was too much. I crawled back into bed. I pulled the pillow over my head, trying to hide myself from the world. I quickly started to feel drowsy. As I was crossing the threshold into slumber, the memories of what had happened flooded back into my mind. I could feel the hands pushing on me as my rock-hard cock first plunged into the pie. My dick firmed up as I remembered shooting jet after jet of jizz while having the most intense orgasm of my life.

Without meaning to, I reached down and grabbed my dick through my boxers. The most fucked up thought imaginable entered my mind as I wrapped my hand around it:

I could really go for a nice piece of pie right now.