Date: Mon, 5 Dec 2005 02:21:30 EST
From: Preppyboy1980@aol.com
Subject: The Conversion of the Kappa Omegas

Nobody was quite sure how it happened.

Many of the students wondered and talked amongst themselves for years about
how the most popular fraternity at the State University campus had
transformed so utterly over the course of a single afternoon. Like an
unexplained murder or a freak display of nature that never finds a
reasonable explanation for its appearance, so the transformation in this
particular group of strapping college boys was regarded with suspicion and
incredulity. But soon, the basis of their conversion came to light.

They hadn't always been this way, of course. The Kappa Omega chapter had
always been the most privileged and conservative house on campus, and their
pedigree gave them a sort of elite status that the other Greek
organizations could only dream about. Most of the brothers came from
powerful families and were the product of summers spent at Martha's
Vineyard, huge family estates located in the Hamptons, or fashionable
private schools like Philips Exeter, Deerfield, and Hotchkiss. Most of the
brothers went on to the best graduate programs in the country at Ivy league
schools, moving up through the rungs of influence until they'd become the
upper echelon of lawyers, political aides, businessmen and stockbrokers
which ran the country. The criteria of acceptance in the chapter was
terribly stringent, although the qualifications were well-defined: each of
the brothers were good looking enough to be Abercrombie and Fitch models
(and some of them were) with trim, athletic bodies and conformist
personalities. Any drinking or partying they did was never reflected in
tired eyes or beer bellies. The Omegas always looked great.

The brothers also excelled in their studies. None of them were below the
level of Cum Laude, and their immense popularity extended to the most
beautiful girls on campus as well as their professors.

The Omegas were revered and envied. They threw the best parties. They had
the largest house on fraternity row. It had always been that way.

But the source of their metamorphosis occurred during one of their rushes
in the fall, when the brothers conducted the most rigorous selection
process of any fraternity. If you didn't look right, talk right, and act
right, you wouldn't be asked back. Any singular traits were not
tolerated. And even if you fit their criteria, only seven pledges were
ultimately invited to become members. Unfortunately for the chapter, one of
the prospective pledges who was ultimately rejected (they discovered)
because he was gay promised that he would get revenge on the Omegas. After
being cut down and insulted by the handsome, jacket and tie wearing crowd
in the room, the disgusted freshman stood in the entryway with his face
blushing crimson and his eyes staring like daggers,

"You're gonna regret this," the student declared. And then, he walked out.

None of the brothers thought much of it at the time. Most of them rolled
their eyes or made a few catcalls as the front door was heard slamming
closed. One of the pledges said he lived on the same dormitory floor as the
rejected pledge, and that he was rumored to be a student of black
magic. But none of this was taken seriously.

And then, something happened late on a Friday morning.

The chapter's president, Brad Parker, was getting ready to head out for his
Biology class and checked himself in the mirror. He was a strapping senior
just over six feet tall with broad shoulders, cornflower blue eyes, and a
WASP-ish, handsome face crowned with a thick head of wide Roman curls the
color of chestnuts. He adjusted the collar of his white Abercrombie and
Fitch polo shirt with green stripes, regarding the classic red moose logo
which adorned his left breast and the ribbed short sleeves clung to a pair
of strong biceps carved from three years on the crew team. A choker
necklace, popular with college kids, encircled his throat while the polo's
shirt tail drooped over a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a leather
belt. The clothes seemed to accentuate the powerful, healthy frame and
actually hugged Brad's strong pecs to show off his definition. They didn't
call those Abercrombie polo shirts "muscle fit" for nothing. All of the
hours of working out in the gym and rowing in regattas had given him a
wide, chiseled chest that always drew glances from girls and guys
alike. There was a bit of chest hair sprouting beneath his shirt's open
packet which only added to his sense of virility.

He smiled at his reflection. Brad was a hot stud, and he knew it. The son
of a rich doctor who lived outside of Boston, the twenty-one year old
senior had recently done a few modeling shoots for Abercrombie and was
given clothes from that company as a result. Jennifer, his sorority
girlfriend, was a knockout. And very soon, he'd go to Hollywood to become
an actor. His Dad knew people. It was practically in the bag.

Brad grabbed his books and smirked again. At that moment, a good-natured
voice called out from the hallway.

"Hey Brad!"

The strapping president found one of the brothers strolling through the
open doorway with a relaxed, easygoing smile. Scott Wunderlich was a
sophomore who'd spent most of his days growing up in San Diego, riding his
surfboard to the tune of a sleek, powerful torso rippling with cords of
bronzed muscle and six pack abs which looked like the steel plated engine
of a Corvette. A white towel clung around his tight, narrow waist,
perfectly displaying how his stomach tapered into the narrow "V" coveted by
athletes and gym rats alike. His shaggy, light blond hair was damp and hung
around a pair of emerald eyes the color of a Caribbean shore, while drops
of water navigated their way over his shoulders and softly caressed the
studboy's copper nipples. Best of all, whenever he grinned, Scott's teeth
looked like melted sugar.

He was a California boy from head to toe.

"You goin' to class, dude?"

Brad smiled back at him and laughed. ""Bio," he said. "Don't you have any
classes in the morning?"

"Not this semester. I'd rather sleep in."

"Figures."

"You just buy that shirt?"

"Nah," Brad replied, checking his hair in the mirror again. "Abercrombie
sent it to me. I did a shoot for their catalog a few months ago."

"Looks good on you, man."

And then, there was a charge in the air. Something that would be almost
imperceptible if it weren't immediately followed by the events which would
change the Kappa Omegas forever and leave the entire college stunned.

Brad turned around with a wicked smirk and a mischievous light in his eyes.

"Not as good as you look right now," Brad responded, suddenly feeling as
though he were no longer in control of his own voice. "You look so fucking
hot, man ... I could suck your cock all afternoon." Hollow silence filled
the room. For a moment, neither of the frat boys moved a muscle from where
they stood. There was a look of mortification on Brad's face, while Scott
just blinked at him in shock.

"Um, Brad?" Scott said. "You're fuckin' with me, right?"

Brad laughed nervously for a moment, trying his best to shrug it off as a
thousand insects were set free in his stomach. He struggled badly for any
sort of offhand explanation for the remark. "I, uh ... well, um ... it's
like ... you know ... I was just, uh ..." His brain sent frantic signals,
but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Something was totally wrong. Brad was
aware that he needed to give a flippant explanation for his comment, and he
needed to do it quickly. And yet, his eyes remained rooted to the hot
surfer's body in front of him. The drops of water trickled dribbled over
tanned skin like fresh tears. Scott's chest was like a beautiful symphony
of tawny, muscular brilliance.

The walls began to close around him. Brad felt a rising sense of
claustrophobia and actually considered bolting from the room. But his
Reebok sneakers remained planted to the floor like a pair of lead boots,
causing him to stammer and clench his fists as though he were a ten year
old caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Um ... "

Brad knew he wasn't gay. He had a beautiful girlfriend in a sister sorority
who he fucked all the time. He was straight as an arrow. He was a guy's
guy.

Wasn't he?  But at that moment, Brad noticed that the front of Scott's own
towel was tenting outward as his cock rose to full attention. He couldn't
believe what was happening, but the surfer's green eyes were locked on his
own. This time, there was no confusion in his gaze. Brad could see a flash
of pure lust.

"Dude man ... I feel weird," Scott whispered.

"So do I."

"What the fuck is happening to us?"

"I don't know, but ... " Brad swallowed with a dry throat. "I -- I think
I'm falling in love with you, dude."

"I love you, too" Scott said.  "And I want you ... bad."

An electricity filled the air which crackled on the seams of Brad's
clothes. Scott reached back and he gently pushed on the open door, allowing
it to slide closed until there was a click from the latch. The appearance
of nervousness melted from Brad's face as both he and Scott continued
gazing at one another, drinking up each other's young physiques with their
eyes and preparing for the feast to come. Brad could feel his own cock
throbbing and becoming stiff and hard in his cargo shorts until the outline
of his manhood was unmistakable beneath the zipper.

Scott reached out with his right hand and gently ran his thumb over the
embroidered moose logo of Brad's Abercrombie polo, his fingers creeping
down until they were gently moving in a circular motion around the
nipple. This action alone caused Brad's cock to emit a drop of sticky
precum into his boxer briefs. Without any hesitation, he slowly reached out
and hooked his index finger between the powerful stomach and the spot where
the towel had been tucked at Scott's waist. He gently pulled outward, and
the towel became unwrapped and dropped to the floor with a soft
thump. Scott's eight inches of college boy cock was revealed, surrounded by
a nicely trimmed bush which was a bit darker than his hair. The flagpole
was sticking straight out like a cannon, ready to shoot and pointing
directly at the buckle of Brad's leather belt.

Scott's breathing was filled with anticipation as Brad began running his
palms over the flattened stomach, exploring the ridges of his abs, and
continuing upward until he gently squeezed the hairless pecs. Neither of
them could contain their desire any longer.

"Door locked?" Brad asked.

"Who cares."

A pair of smiles were traded. Suddenly, the both came together into a
passionate kiss.  There was an explosive moment of release. Muscular bodies
came together as their lips joined furiously and tongues became entwined.
Brad could feel his lover's hands slipping around his waist and moving
beneath his shirt to begin exploring his back. He responded by grabbing
Scott's perfect ass and pressing both of the cheeks together, kneading the
muscles like dough in his hands and drawing the hardened cock against the
front of his shorts. They started grinding together and quickly the frat
studs became short of breath.

Brad finally broke the kiss and began running his tongue over the expanse
of Scott's naked chest. He traced every contour of the shoulder blades and
chest as the surfer flexed his strong pectorals until they stretched and
became rippled with muscle. Brad responded by sucking on his nipples,
massaging Scott's pecs with both hands as he licked away the residual drops
of water from his ripped stomach. Finally, he reached his goal and slipped
the cock into his mouth. The nineteen-year old surfer boy moaned, shutting
his eyes tight in ecstasy as he took a fistful of polo shirt collar into
each of his hands.

"Awwhh, yeah ... suck that dick, you Abercrombie stud, fuck ... lick my big
surfer cock, frat boy ...  aw, fuck ... yeah!"

At that moment, in another bedroom just down the hall, Mike Jepson was
kicking back on his bed and studying for a test later that afternoon. He
was a lean kid with sparkling, hazel eyes and a thatch of curly dark
hair. Mike had been a runner ever since junior high school and has the
athletic frame to show for it: a trim upper body, smooth chest, and taut
legs rimmed with muscle. Nothing stood out, but everything was easy on the
eyes. He was a textbook example of eye candy. On this particular day, he
sported a dark green tee shirt worn over a long sleeved white tee shirt --
a look also popular with college students. A pair of Wrangler jeans clung
to his tight waist, and a dark blue baseball cap with the stark, red Kappa
Omega chapter letters on the front was perched on his head.

He'd just finished reviewing a chapter when his roommate, Josh Hunter,
walked into the room with a sluggish yawn.

"Where have you been?" Mike asked.

"Watchin' TV with Brody," Josh shrugged as he began scratching his balls
through his gray sweatpants with an absent-minded look. He stretched up
towards the ceiling as a rigging of teenage power shifted along his
shoulders.

For some reason, Mike couldn't remove his gaze from his roommate -- the
handsome brown eyes, the cut jaw, or the mop of light brown hair which hung
down over his ears and forehead. Ever since his freshman year, Josh had
been a star attacker on the college Lacrosse team. And as a result, he was
nicely built with powerful legs and muscles which shifted like waves under
his red and blue striped rugby shirt.

"You gonna study?" Mike asked.

"Nah," Josh yawned again. "Fuck that. I'm gonna work out."

Suddenly, the tingling of some electric charge filled the room. Mike felt a
light prickling on his skin and his cock started to swell beneath his
zipper. Within a matter of seconds, his expression changed from affable
camaraderie to powerful determination as he tossed the textbook on to his
bed, rising up with a resolute tone in his voice.

"Then let's get started," he said, pushing the baseball cap off his head,
allowing it to drop on the floor next to his topsiders.

"Doing what?"

"This!"

Josh watched in disbelief as Mike suddenly ripped both shirts over his head
and flung them aside, revealing his toned chest and flat stomach. He raised
both his arms into a double biceps pose that was close to breathtaking,
showing off the tight musculature in his upper body and the confidence in
his eyes. Josh found himself immediately attracted to the frat boy in front
of him.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

Before he knew it, Mike had dropped in front of Josh's crotch and was
tugging at the white drawstring of his sweats. He pulled the string undone,
then slipped his fingers under the elastic, tugging the sweatpants and Old
Navy boxer briefs down in the same motion. Josh's cock sprang out at full
attention, begging to be serviced, which prompted Mike to start sucking on
the mushroom tip.

He flicked his tongue over the slit, then kissed and sucked on Josh's balls
which caused the frat boy to moan with delight.

"Awwww yeah!" Josh said. "Fuck, that's awesome! Aww, fuck yeah!"

Mike's hands reached around and grabbed his bare ass, squeezing it and
causing Josh to tighten the muscles into a tight apple shape. As he took
the entire shaft into his mouth, never gagging on its eight inches, the
bare-chested runner could smell the pungent aroma of college boy sweat and
the musk of his roommate's crotch.

"Mmmmmm," he said.

Now the transformation from straight frat boys to gay superstuds continued
in the living room, where Brody Chastain was sitting on the couch watching
a college baseball game that he'd saved with TiVo from the night
before. He'd just finished working out at the campus gym and had spent a
full hour with weight machines, trying to pack even more striated cords of
muscle on his ripped, six and a half foot frame. Brody, who had been the
tight end on the football team at State University ever since he was a
freshman, looked the part of a kick ass athlete with pale blue eyes and
blond hair cropped into a tight crew cut. His only goals were getting
strong and growing big enough for the NFL.

He was wearing a sleeveless gray State University Football tee shirt with
the school's name, team mascot, and Brody's number in red letters on the
front. He also sported a pair of Russell Athletic baggy red shorts and high
top sneakers -- standard issue for football studs working out in the gym.

But right now, those baggy shorts were pulled down to his thighs while
Brody started working on his ten inch cockpole, pumping his fist slowly as
droplets of precum bubbled out from the slit. The baseball studs on
television looked so hot in their uniforms, and there was nothing he could
do but give in to the urges he felt. He'd never been attracted to guys
before. He wasn't a fag. But something had happened to him. Josh had gone
upstairs and that weird prickling of electricity covered his skin like
millions of ants scurrying across his entire body. And then, the way the
shortstop walked back to his position and how good his ass looked in those
baseball pants struck him. The boyish caps and the jerseys and the muscular
arms jutting out of short sleeves drove him wild. Before he knew it, he was
tugging and pulling those baggy shorts down, rubbing his thumb over the
open slit. And then, he was jacking off like a horny fourteen year old.

His buffed arms looked like carved marble as he began using both hands on
his shaft, one hand stroking the piss slit with a rolling thumb, then other
pumping and stroking with a steady motion. The pitcher on television, a
young rookie with bright eyes, powerful body and the baby face of a Little
Leaguer, threw a strikeout. As he walked off the mound, he flashed a grin
to his teammates and flexed a bicep for them.

Vanity. Cockiness. Youthful poise.

Suddenly, Brody couldn't take it anymore. He gritted his teeth, releasing
his cock and grabbing the top of his sweaty tee shirt with both
hands. Then, he started ripping it right down the middle, his muscles
forcing the cotton to give with every show of strength. The first motion
tore the shirt enough to reveal his pecs, barely dusted with golden hair
and sparkling with a honeydew of perspiration. The second ripped the shirt
open completely, exposing an eight pack which was corrugated and tough like
the back of an Armadillo. A fair-haired bunny trail led down to his
pulsating manhood which was oozing out thick cum from the tip of the
mushroom head.

Brody continued tearing, ripping, flexing his commanding muscles until he
was tossing away shreds of cloth which used to be a sleeveless tee. He
pulled off his sneakers and wriggled out of his baggy shorts, kicking them
away from his feet. Then he got back to work on his cock, caressing it as
the monster continued to grow, letting out a guttural moan as he pinched
his own nipples.

Suddenly, Brody heard someone reach the bottom of the stairs. He turned and
saw one of the pledges, Todd Davis, standing there in mortified horror.

"Omigod," he gasped. "Brody, I -- I didn't ... I didn't know you were
... that is, uh ... "

Brody just smirked back at him with an arrogant look. Let the little
fucking pledge stand there and be traumatized if he wanted. Todd looked so
helpless, his hands clenched into tight fists, mouth hanging open and his
innocent blue eyes having widened into saucers. The freshman pledge was on
the college swim team as a sprinter after having broke all the records at
his high school, and he certainly looked like Kappa Omega material. His
hair was jet black and gelled into a clean cut, spiky, yet conservative
style. His skin was the bronzed color of summer every month of the year,
and he always wore the preppiest attire of anyone in the house. Brody
hadn't been around for any of the hazing rituals where the pledged were
forced to strip, so he didn't know what the kid's body was like. He'd
assumed that all those years in the pool swimming heats and practicing his
ass off had probably done wonders, but he couldn't tell since the blasted
eighteen-year old was wearing a blue oxford button down collar polo shirt,
the classic Ralph Lauren player logo embroidered on the chest, with the
shirt sleeves buttoned at the cuffs. He wore a pair of nicely pressed
khakis, probably from J.Crew or the Gap, and an Abercrombie leather belt
around his waist. He'd capped off his attire with a pair of shiny loafers.

Like always, Todd was the perfect little preppy. Hell, he probably was
skinny on top of it. Not like the jocks on television playing the baseball
game.

"What's the matter, freshman?" Brody sneered. "Never seen a cock this big
before?"

"N-n-no ...."

"I figured," Brody laughed at him, still jacking his cock which had
extended to eleven inches of enormous manhood. "I'd ask you to help me
out. But you look a little too scrawny for a football stud like me."

Straight away, the tight end stood up from the couch and hit a muscular
double biceps pose just to show off. He had a ripped body that he was proud
to display, and he looked like a strapping Greek God after having taken a
detour through the American Midwest. His biceps rolled into a pair of
massive peaks while the pectorals, expansive shoulders fit for throwing
blocks, and tough abdominals settled into an impenetrable range of sweaty
landscapes. Brody grinned at him.

"Like what you see, string bean?" he chuckled.

Just then, something happened to the shocked pledge. His eyes darkened into
a look of cool defiance as his fists became so tight the knuckles turned
red. A brash smirk appeared on Todd's face as he responded.

"Who are you calling a string bean?"

The boy's eyes flashed with authority as he quickly hit a double biceps
pose. His nice preppy clothes barely concealed his body. Todd's biceps were
like a pair of rock iron baseballs, perfectly defined against the fabric of
the sleeves, and his thickened shoulders and chest were practically bulging
out of the front of the nicely pressed oxford. The pecs were straining
against the buttons and the polo player logo and were almost bursting out
of the shirt.

"What does that look like to you?" he asked. "Three years on the water polo
team in high school, and I'm a sprinter on the swim team."

"Nice."

"So you want to take back your comment?"

"Not if you don't rip off those fucking clothes, preppy boy," Brody grinned
and pointed at the polo. "Starting with that shirt."

Todd glanced down at his buttoned down attire, then there was another
confident smirk from the preppy freshman. His arms dropped down to his
sides, and he kicked off his pair of brand new loafers. Brody could feel
his thick cock stiffening into his own hand and he started pumping a bit
faster.

What happened next took a matter of seconds. Todd quickly unfastened the
collar buttons of the polo shirt, freeing them and popping the collar up
into a preppy style. Brody almost shot his load right then, it was so
fucking hot to watch that teenaged buck carry out that simple motion. But
he managed to control his desire and took a deep breath, releasing his own
cock for a second. He felt the semen recede back like a tide going out, and
then he gave the shaft a gentle squeeze to keep himself hard. Todd pulled
the shirt tail out from his waist, giving the older frat brother a brief
glimpse of thickly cut, washboard abs and tanned skin before it dropped
over his belt buckle. Then, the eighteen year-old swimmer grabbed the back
of the collar and ripped the shirt over his head, popping off one of the
shirt buttons in the same motion. He slung the still buttoned polo oxford
aside, and flexed yet again for the football stud. Double bicep pose.

"Damn!" Brody said, his eyes widening.

Todd's flawless skin was smooth and perfectly carved with teenage muscle
like the statue of Michelangelo's David. His well-developed pecs were
completely hairless and featured a pair of copper brown nipples, while his
breastbone lead down in a powerful slope to the six pack abs which awaited
another boy's lips or a tongue. There was a slight treasure trail which
formed just below the belly button and vanished under the belt buckle. And
underneath the zipper, a thick mound was pushing outward, growing in size.

A throbbing cock. Eighteen year-old studboy cock, no less.

"Awww yeah!" Brody nodded. "Fuck yeah!"

He moved forward, taking the swimmer into his arms and kissing him
deeply. Hands wandered over ripped shoulders, lips sucked on nipples, and
tongues played across the slopes of bare torsos flecked with fresh
sweat. Both of them felt a complete freedom as the electricity in the air
washed over their bare skin. Brody flexed one of his biceps and Todd began
sucking on the muscle, then joined his frat boy lover in another passionate
kiss which left them panting for air.

"I want to fuck you, dude --" Brody said as he wiped the perspiration from
his brow. "I want that preppy swimmer ass."

"So do it!"

They kissed again with force. Brody angrily fought with Todd's belt buckle
and, once it had been successfully unclasped, started ripping the zipper
flap of his khakis wide open. The top button of Todd's khakis popped away
and danced across the floor as Brody kept yanking and tearing with
abandon. At last, he stripped him of his pants and took the white Ralph
Lauren boxers along with them. The beautiful cock finally leaped out to a
stunning nine inches, dripping with precum as Brody ran his thumb over the
tip. Meanwhile, he was kissing the teenage swimmer stud's pecs. Todd hissed
as he felt the senior bite down on a nipple with his teeth, running both
hands through the cropped blond hair and over the rolling muscle of Brody's
shoulders.

But with a sudden motion, Brody spun the pledge around and positioned him
in front of the couch. "Bend over," he said. "Do it now, preppy boy." Todd
was more than happy to accommodate this command, turning around and
grabbing one of the couch arms as he thrust out his bubble butt to its
master. Brody grinned, grabbing a cheek into each one of his hands as he
squeezed and pulled them apart.

The pink target was soon revealed, and Brody wasted no time in thrusting
his cock into the virgin asshole. Todd winced and clenched his teeth down
hard, groaning as the massive shaft slid inward and reached his prostrate.

"Aw FUCK!" he grimaced as pain and pleasure collided. "Awww, yeah!
... Yeah, fuck me, you stud! ... Do it, Brody!"

With a thrusting motion of his hips. Brody started fucking the swimmer up
the ass and threw his head back. He shut his eyes, lips curled into a smile
as he felt the warmth that passed over the length of his flagpole.

"Unnngh!" Todd moaned. "Unnnnnggggh!"

At that moment, Brad was standing in the middle of his bedroom with his
Abercrombie clothing littered around his bare feet. His arms and chest
muscles were tensed up and flexing hard as each heaving breath caused his
abdominals to stand out in ridges. Scott was kneeling in front of him,
ferociously tearing at the seams of his white Abercrombie boxer briefs and
ripping them to shreds. He finally pulled away the remains of Brad's
shredded briefs and flung the pieces away, then started licking the shaft
of his massive ten inch dick with long, gratuitous strokes. Brad squeezed
the surfer's shoulders and smiled with a look of indescribable pleasure.

"Yeah." Brad whispered. "Oh yeah, man ... I love you, Scott ..."

Just across the hallway, Mike and Josh were both completely naked and
enjoying a sixty nine position on one of the beds. Muscles churned and a
pair of athletic college boy cocks slipped into hungry mouths as they
fucked like crazy, finally liberated from their fears to enjoy gay sex for
the first time. The bedroom windows were fogged up, and sweat was dripping
from their powerful frames like water falling from melting ice.

Josh reached up, his hair plastered to his forehead, and deliberately slid
two of his fingers into his roommate's asshole, searching until he located
the prostrate. Mike moaned and rewarded him by paying special attention to
his balls, toying with them while using his tongue to lick away every drop
of precum which escaped his piss slit.

And so it began, as the boys at Kappa Omega started their transformation.

But this proved to be only the beginning of the day's inexplicable
events. There were more frat brothers about to be converted -- several of
whom were either walking to classes or returning back to the house.

The day had just begun.