Dr. Bell's Vengeance: Frat Bois
by Nikki J
Vincent sat in his comfortable leather chair, a beer in one hand while a hot blonde danced and grinded on his lap. He looked around, and saw his best friend Chuck received similar treatment from a brunette. The music thumped and the fraternity house went wild in yet another Pi Kappa Phi party. The girls were from one of the sororities (Vincent couldn't remember the blonde's name, much less to which sorority she belonged).
And then the blonde took her shirt off. Vincent knew she was drunk, and that she would probably regret her actions later, but he didn't care. That was her problem. For his part, he was anxious to get fucked, or at least see some tits.
She straddled him, her tits flapping in his face while his hands roamed all over her body. She leaned in to kiss him. He tasted the alcohol. A small crowd started to gather. It wasn't unheard of for a girl to spontaneously take her short off at one of their parties, but it wasn't something to miss either. Noticing, the girl drunkenly began to put on a little show, shaking her tits while she dry humped Vincent. She rubbed her hands up and down her body sexily, and the crowd cheered.
After a couple of minutes, she dismounted, and got down on her knees, reaching for Vincent's crotch. She unzipped his blue jeans, and eagerly pulled out his cock. Lifting himself up, Vincent pulled his pants down to his ankles, giving her free reign.
She immediately started sucking. No foreplay. No teasing. She just got down and dirty. Vincent grabbed her hair while she bobbed up and down. After a few minutes, Vincent was ready. He wanted to fuck that hot blonde.
So he took off his shirt, and reached down under harms, and picked her up, setting her down beside him. She couldn't have weighed much more than a hundred pounds. He stood over her, and then reached down, tugging at her tight jeans. Her panties and jeans came off at the same time. When she was completely nude, Vincent sat back down, and pulled her on top of him.
She lowered herself onto his cock gently, and then she went to work. She rode him, and hard, accompanied by the cheers of the gathered crowd of frat boys and sorority girls. She threw her hand in the air like she was lassoing some unseen object, and then, leaned forward, her tits in Vincent's face. He slapped her ass.
After a few minutes, they changed positions. She got down on all fours while Vincent fucked her doggystyle. It didn't take long for Chuck to find his way in front of her, and pull out his cock. She eagerly sucked it while Vincent fucked her from behind. He came in her mouth. Chuck gave Vincent a high five.
A couple of minutes later, they changed positions again, with her on her back with her legs spread wide while Vincent gave her every inch of his cock. She moaned, and screamed during the whole thing. And then Vincent pulled out, and came on her stomach.
Vincent had left the girl butt-naked laying passed out on the couch. He knew she would be gone before morning. They always were. Most people would have probably disappeared into another room before having sex, but Vincent was not most people. He wasn't ashamed. Neither was she. If people were watching, so what. In fact, it kind of turned him on.
Whatever the case, he had no intention of ever examining his motives, and awoke the next morning with a hangover. It wasn't the worst he had ever had, but it was quite noticeable. And so, he found himself in the fat house's kitchen popping a couple of aspirin into his mouth when Chuck approached behind him.
“Crazy party last night, huh?” Chuck asked groggily as he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of orange juice. He poured it, and replaced the carton.
Vincent nodded. “Little bit. Who were the girls?”
“Some were Omega Pi. A few were strippers Jeff met last week,” Chuck explained. Then, he asked, “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Vincent responded. “I guess I'll run --” He stopped mid-sentence. His voice had cracked. He cleared his throat, and continued, “I'm going to the,” he cleared his throat again. “What the hell?”
His voice had risen in pitch. Chuck looked alarmed, then said, “I don't --” His voice had changed too! Neither had any clue what was happening, and their faces showed it.
After a few seconds of disorientation, they both seemed to say at once, “What is going on here?” They sounded like a pair of frustrated teenage girls.
It wasn't long before they realized that all of the fraternity brothers had been similarly afflicted. They all gathered in the den, a high-pitched din of slightly frightened conversation wafting in the air.
Vincent stood up, and said, “Look guys. Don't panic. We'll figure out what's going on, and then we'll go about fixing it. It's probably just someone leaking helium into the house or something” Even he didn't believe that, but he had to show a brave face for the other guys. “I'll get on the internet and see if there's some sort of bug going around or something. Just go about your business, and don't panic.”
With that, he left the den, mounted the stairs, and went to the room he shared with Chuck. There were discarded clothes all over the floor, and posters of busty women decorated the walls. Vincent sat down at his computer, went to a search engine, and started to research.
It didn't take him long to discover that white men all across the world were experiencing a similar reaction. Most news sources attributed it to some crazy doctor's claim that he had released a biological agent into the atmosphere a week or two before (Vincent didn't exactly pay attention to the news, so he only vaguely remembered the stories). The news sites made a point to assure their audience that there was nothing to worry about, and that government scientists were working on the problem right then. One even likened it to a great practical joke.
Vincent was unconvinced. It seemed a little more serious than what the sites made it seem. After all, he and the other guys at the fraternity sounded like girls. There was some serious science behind that; even his meager scientific learning could tell him that.
He found the doctor's name (Omar Bell), and typed it into a search engine. He found out that Dr. Bell was Nobel Prize winning biochemist and a very outspoken (and militant) black man who had made most of his life about campaigning for reparations. Recently, the government had denied a bill which would have awarded those reparations. As a result, Dr. Bell had gone into hiding until he sent a letter to most major news networks. That letter read:
For too long, we African Americans have stood by, and let the rest of the world discriminate against us. We have taken it until we can take it no longer. So, I have decided to do something to take the rest of you down a rung. I'm sure you won't believe me at first, but over time, you will see that this is no hoax.
I have decided to make a little change in the hierarchy of our species. Earlier this week, I released a biological agent into the atmosphere, and tests have shown that that agent had spread throughout the world's air supply.
Do not panic. I am not trying to kill anyone, though I'm sure some would wish it. No, the agent is designed to do one thing: reassert the dominance of the black race. This chemical will only affect white males.
Ah, but what will it do to those oppressors? Well, it will do a number of things. The changes (which are permanent and irreversible) will take a variable amount of time, depending on the person, and are purely physiological.
1. White males will shrink slightly to be more in line with the height and weight range of white females. There are few ways to predict how it will affect individuals in this regard, but I've found that, generally, you will skew a little towards the size range you would have been, had you been born female (although, it will probably be a little on the low side of that range).
2. Their already small pensises and testicles will shrink to better match their smaller bodies.
3. Their anuses will gain elasticity and sensitivity, effectively making it a sex organ.
4. The pitch of their voices will rise.
5. Their hips will widen, and their shape will generally become more feminine.
6. Their nipples will enlarge slightly, and they will gain sensitivity.
7. Finally, their muscularture will become greatly reduced, and their skin and basic face shape will soften.
Basically, the white male will become something in between the current idea of male and a female (with a heavy leaning towards femininity). As I said, these changes are permanent and irreversible. All (current and future) white males will show these traits.
As I said, most people will not lend credence to these claims until after the changes start (which should be quite soon), but after a year or two, the world will have changed, and I think for the better.
Dr. Omar Bell
Vincent read and re-read the article a few times. That sort of change wasn't possible, he told himself. It was just some crazy man with an unwarranted grudge.
Vincent knew the argument. African Americans wanted reparations to make up for the oppression and slavery of the past. Most rational people dismissed it as ludicrous to punish or reward people for the actions of their ancestors. Apparently this Dr. Bell wasn't rational. But he had caught the attention of the world, Vincent acknowledged. Even if it went no further (Vincent had a hard time believing that any of the other changes were even remotely possible), Dr. Bell would go down as a brilliant, if troubled, man.
Vincent eased his six foot, two-hundred and ten pound frame from chair, and went to tell the guys the news. When facing down his scared fraternity brothers, he decided not to scare them unnecessarily.
“The news thinks it's just a big prank by some crazy scientist. They seem to think that the government will develop a solution within a couple of weeks at the most,” Vincent explained, still embarrassed by his high-pitched voice. “So don't worry. It'll be over soon.”
Then, he turned, and went back to his room, sitting down on his bed. Chuck soon came in, and sat at the desk. Chuck was a little smaller than Vincent and had red hair instead of Vincent's dark brown.
“It's worse than that, isn't it?” Chuck asked. His voice, Vincent noted, was even higher than his. When Vincent didn't answer, Chuck continued, “C'mon man. Tell me what's up.”
“What I said was true,” Vincent stated.
Chuck then asked, “But there's more, right?” Vincent nodded.
“Go to that article on my computer, and read it,” Vincent instructed, and Chuck did as he was asked. The red-haired man shook his head as he was reading. Once he was finished, he turned back around.
“That's crazy,” he said with finality. “None of that's even close to possible.”
“I know,” Vincent responded. “Which is why I didn't tell the other guys. I didn't want to scare them more than they already are.”
“But what if it did happen? I mean, I know it's impossible, but if you, ya know, underwent those changes?” Chuck asked.
Vincent shrugged, “I don't know. Keep living my life, I guess. We'd still be the same people, just smaller. I mean, why would anything really change?”
“We'd just keep on partying,” Chuck offered, laughing. It came out as a girlish giggle.
Vincent smiled, “Hell yeah, we would. Nothing would have to change.”
The two laughed for a few minutes, sounding like nothing more than a couple of schoolgirls. They were confident that their lives wouldn't change even if the crazy Dr. Bell had his way.
“And you know we'd still get all the chicks,” Vincent finished. Chuck agreed enthusiastically. And the two strayed into other topics like which sororities had the best looking girls, or which ones were the wildest.
They went on for a few minutes, and soon, thoughts of Dr. Bell and his mad plan faded. They even managed to forget their high voices.
A couple of weeks passed without incident or a cure. The fraternity now sounded more like a sorority. The frat brothers formerly baritone laughs had become feminine giggles, and high-ptiched chatter filled the house.
While getting out of the shower one morning, Vincent noticed something – all of his body hair, save a thin strip just above his penis – was gone. Even his face was smooth and hairless. A little concerned, but not terribly alarmed, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and went to his room.
Chuck sat at the computer desk playing some first-person shooter video game. He looked up as Vincent entered the room, and said, “You too, huh?”
“What?” Vincent asked.
“The hair. It's all gone, right? Even your pubes?” Chuck asked.
Vincent shook his head. “No. I have a little strip right above my dick now.”
“A landing strip?” Chuck laughed. After a moment, he stopped, and said, “I guess it's happening to everyone then.”
Vincent shrugged as he pulled on a pair of boxers. They felt a little looser than normal, but he didn't really notice.
“I know what'll make you feel better. We're going to do another party tomorrow night, and Jeff is getting those strippers to come again,” Chuck offered. “A little pussy will do you good, man. Take your mind off of things.”
Vincent smiled. “I guess that could help everyone.”
The next night, the party was in full swing when a few of the drunk girls started to really get wild. One in particular caught Vincent's eye. She was gorgeous, with mocha colored skin and a curvy body. She was tall – probably around five feet, ten inches.
The two locked eyes for only a moment, and then she sauntered over, still moving in time with the thumping music. Vincent set his beer down.
“Hey baby,” she said.
Vincent responded, “Hey there sexy.” Was that a slight smile when he talked? She turned around, still dancing with the music, and started to grind against his crotch.
Soon, his hands were all over the gorgeous black girl, straying up to her ample breasts.
“Let's go somewhere, baby,” she said.
Vincent shrugged, “We can do it right here. No one minds.” She was drunk and uninhibited enough not to argue. And they started to feel each other up, making out at the same time.
After a couple of minutes of kissing, Vincent guided her to the couch, where he sat down. She practically ripped her shirt off. Her bra came next. Then, she hiked her skirt up, and pulled her panties off, twirling them on her finger for a moment before tossing them in Vincent's face.
Then, she reached down, and unzipped his fly. A topless woman in a party full of frat boys inevitably draws a lot of attention, and soon a crowd formed. It was a familiar situation for Vincent, and he smiled as the woman (who he found out later was one of the strippers Jeff had convinced to come) pulled his pants off.
Vincent's cock was still soft, so she reached down and jerked it a few times. It remained flaccid. So, she bent down to suck it. That didn't work either, and inwardly, Vincent started to panic.
“What's wrong baby?” she said as she climbed on top of him, putting her tits in his face. She dry humped him for about thirty seconds before getting frustrated and climbed off.
“I'm sorry. That's never happ--”
The girl, having gathered her things, interrupted, “Limp dick sissy.” She left, and Vincent sat on the couch trying to cover up his flaccid member. After a few seconds, he pulled his pants up, and rushed up the stairs and into his room.
A few minutes later, Chuck went in.
“It's okay, man. It happens. You get drunk and you can't get hard. Nobody thinks --”
Vincent interrupted him, saying, “I'm not drunk, Chuck. I've only had one beer.”
“Oh, well...I don't know, man. I guess that sort of thing just happens,” Chuck comforted.
Vincent wasn't really convinced, but he said, “Yeah. I guess.”
Over the next week, Vincent definitely noticed more changes, but he tried to ignore them. In the back of his mind, he knew what to expect. He knew what was happening to them all, but if he didn't acknowledge it, it didn't matter.
But nothing could mask his loss in height and weight. It didn't happen all at once or overnight or anything like that. No, he lost a little bit each day. And by the time six more weeks had passed, he had lost almost six inches in height and around sixty pounds.
More, though, his body (and the bodies of every other guy in the frat) was developing just like Dr. Bell had predicted. His waist had narrowed, his hips had widened, his ass had rounded, and his upper body had lost most of its muscle.
And then there was his once-proud penis. It had once measured at a respectable eight inches when hard, but now (when he could get the thing to cooperate) it was only half that size.
They had stopped having parties, partly out of embarrassment of the changes occurring to their bodies, but mostly because sex with a woman was highly unlikely now. Not only were they not that attractive to most women (except, perhaps lesbians), but incidents similar to that which Vincent had experienced had happened to more than a few of the fraternity brothers.
So, they went to class (in extremely baggy clothes), and they came back to the house. There wasn't much else to life as they awaited further changes (or, perhaps a cure).
A few more weeks passed and the changes seemed to stop. It had been about two and a half months since his voice had changed, and Vincent had changed drastically.
He now had an ass any woman would be proud of. It was perky and round with just enough jiggle. Curious, he took his measurements. He weighed a hundred and four pounds, and was a little over five feet three inches tall. His waist was twenty-two inches, and his hips measured at thirty-one inches. His penis was about an inch and a half flaccid.
But the most disconcerting change was his face – it looked like him, but it wasn't him. It was more like what a younger sister (if he had one) would have looked like.
He sighed. Dr. Bell's predictions had come true, at least for Vincent.
Vincent was standing naked, staring at himself in the mirror when Chuck walked in. He was wearing a baggy pair of jeans held up by a comically cinched belt. The effect was that Chuck looked like a pre-teen girl wearing her father's clothes.
But Chuck hadn't been hit quite as hard as Vincent had. The red-haired boy was a little taller than him, but his measurements were just as pronounced.
“Oh, hey. What's up?” Chuck asked, setting his books down.
“Nothing.” Vincent responded. What was there to say?
A few more weeks went by, accompanied by few changes. Maybe it was all over, and the scientists could get to work on a cure, Vincent thought. He didn't really believe it.
His size having normalized, Vincent decided that he needed some new clothes. So, he gathered Chuck, and he went to the mall.
It was a strange sight. He didn't see a white man anywhere (at least not any who looked like actual men). The only masculinity could be found in the black men (and a couple of Latinos Vincent saw).
Vincent knew his size, so he knew that he and Chuck would have to go to the little boy's section to find anything that fit. So, they found themselves browsing through racks of clothes intended for ten year olds. Vincent chose a few, and then went to try them on.
And then he got his first shock. An attendant told him that that particular dressing room was for men only, and that boys like him had to use the one in the women's department. He argued with the woman for a few minutes until she threatened to call security. So, Vincent relented.
Extremely self-consciously, he and Chuck crossed the store to the women's fitting rooms. Vincent took a deep breath, then looked at his friend, and forged ahead. Thankfully, the fitting room was empty, and Vincent found a stall.
He stripped down (he didn't wear underwear anymore because none of his boxers fit), and pulled a pair of jeans from a hangar.
He slipped one leg through, and then the other. But when he tried to pull them up, they just wouldn't fit over his ass.
“This isn't working,” Vincent heard Chuck say.
“Keep looking/” Chuck asked.
Vincent responded, “Yeah, I guess.” But he was skeptical. When they exited the fitting room, a couple of girls glanced at them and giggled.
But then Vincent saw something – a sign in a corner which said Bois. He and Vincent walked towards it.
In the back of his mind, Vincent knew that the clothes were just repackaged women's clothes, but denial is a strong thing. He picked out a few pairs of jeans, a couple of tee-shirts, and some boi's briefs. Chuck picked out a similar selection, and the two went to try them on.
They fit perfectly, if a little snugger in the rear that he was used to. They also rode a little lower on his waist than he had expected. But at least he didn't have fold over the waist four times just to get them to hang on his hips. The tee-shirts had little capped sleeves, but that was all they had, so Vincent took what he could get.
The briefs were cut very much like panties, but they had a Y-front, so Vincent figured they must be men's. They fit well, too.
So, Chuck and Vincent went back to the Fraternity house, bags in hand, shopping done.
Once Vincent and Chuck had bought new clothes, most of the other guys relented and went to the same store. Some came back with similar outfits to what Vincent had bought, but others brought back short shorts and tank tops which showed their midriffs. One of the brothers even came back with a few lacy thongs. When asked about it, he merely blushed and said, “I look good in them.”
A few weeks later, and life had died down to the point of near-normalcy. The brothers felt better in their new clothes, and spirits rose. Although, Vincent noticed that with each passing week, their mannerisms became increasingly feminine. It started with posture; some of them started standing with their backs slightly arched. Then came the hand-gestures. It wasn't long before they had almost completely female mannerisms and posture.
As for Vincent, he was becoming aware of some new sexual tendencies. His dreams were filled with shirtless men – some were saving him from imminent danger; others were merely holding him; and in one recurring dream, he was making out with a black man.
But it wasn't just dreams. Once, he was sitting in class, idle thoughts wandering while his professor (a Native American man) taught. And all of a sudden, his little dick got hard. He hadn't meant to think it. It had come from nowhere, but apparently it had excited him. It was a stray thought about the professor's dick size. And then he had wondered about texture, and what it would feel like to touch it. Finally, he wondered what it might taste like. That's when his penis had become erect.
Part of him wanted to explore the thought, but most of his mind was yelling, “Stop!” He forced the thought from his brain by thinking of his third-grade teacher who had been close to eighty years old. Once soft, Vincent gathered his things, and hurried from the classroom.
As he rushed out of the room, he crashed into a man, which sent both of their books flying and sent Vincent thudding to the ground.
“Oh, shit. Sorry about that,” the man said. He wasn't terribly big – average size, but he had a handsome face. He reached out a dark hand, and said, “Really, I'm so sorry.”
Vincent took the offered hand, and the man pulled him up easily. “No, it was my fault. I didn't really look where I was going.”
Vincent bent down recover his books. The man helped him. Then, he extended his hand, “I'm Greg.”
“Vincent,” Vincent responded, shaking Greg's hand. Vincent couldn't help but notice that Greg's hand engulfed his.
“Look, let me make it up to you,” Greg offered. “Lunch?”
Vincent was taken aback, and didn't know what to say. So, books clutched to his chest, he said, “I have to go,” and walked away.
As he walked toward the frat house, Vincent's mind was a jumble of thoughts. He had just been hit on by a man. He had been treated like a girl. The thoughts occupied his mind enough that he quickly went up to his room, shut the door, and went to a search engine.
He typed, “Men and bois,” and hit search.
The first few results were pornographic videos. Curious, Vincent clicked on one. In it, a white boi was getting doggy-style fucked by a tall, skinny black man. Vincent's small penis got hard immediately. The white boi on the video was a screamer.
The next one was a foursome video of a white boi and a white woman servicing two black men. The heading was “Husband and Wife fucked Hard.” Vincent noticed that the boi had a lower back tattoo of a butterfly.
He clicked the back button on his browser, and looked through the search results. After a few minutes, he waded through the pornography to find an article which had appeared that week in the New York Times. It was the personal account of a woman whose husband had become attracted to men.
It started small, she explained. When the two couldn't have sex in the typical fashion, they got creative, buying a strap-on dildo. At first, they would take turns, with each partner being the man at times. But soon the balance had shifted, and more often than not, the husband was the one getting fucked.
After a while, the wife was frustrated, so she bought a double-ended dildo so they both could be penetrated, and so, they were both happy. That lasted a few more weeks before the wife caught her husband in bed with a man. Rather than become jealous, however, she decided to participate. They started picking up men all over the town, but the novelty wore off for the wife, and she stopped accompanying her husband.
He, however, didn't stop. Most nights, he didn't come home. He stayed with some man. When he did come home, he often brought a friend. The husband's screams of passion kept her awake. After a few more weeks of that, she filed for divorce.
The story went on to say that the tale, while a bit extreme, was not atypical. In fact, most bois were actively pursuing male sexual partners. More and more, as the culture (and white bois) changed; a man and a boi together sexually is considered as natural as a woman and a man, the article said.
Vincent re-read the article again. It made sense. Everything did. The dreams, the lack of arousal with women, and his apparent attraction to men were normal. Every boi had been experiencing it.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he clicked back to the video of the boi and his wife being fucked by two black men, and started to rub his little dick.
Over the next few months, the culture continued to change. More and more, it wasn't uncommon to see a boi hand-in-hand with a man (be they Latino, black, or whatever). Vincent vaguely paid attention when he saw on the news that some bois in Mexico had rioted (though not very many of the Latino male population had been affected).
And bois started to gravitate more towards a feminine style of dress. Most stores had a growing bois' section (containing feminine styles altered – namely in the chest area – to accommodate bois), and soon, bois were sporting all the latest fashions. This included skirts, shorts, tank tops, halter tops, and dresses among other things. The stores even dropped all pretense and started marketing panties to the bois.
Vincent, for his part, did not relent, and had yet to wear a dress or a skirt. He did, however, own quite a collection of panties ranging from lace thongs to cotton bikinis. He had started wearing light makeup (as most bois did), but he'd kept his hair short.
Chuck, however, had fully embraced his boihood. He almost never wore pants, instead opting for skirts, dresses or shorts. He had let his red hair grow, and it reached past his shoulders. And then there were the men. Men weren't allowed in the Fraternity house, but Chuck would often come home disheveled at late hours. A few times, he had even forgotten to retrieve his panties.
They didn't talk about it, but a lot of the frat bois were having sex with men. If Vincent was honest with himself, he knew he wanted to as well, but a shred of masculinity kept him from taking that step. The result was that on most weekend nights, he was alone in the frat house.
On one such night, Vincent walked up the stairs and into the room he shared with Chuck. Unsurprisingly, Chuck had left the place a mess, with his panties lying all about, his makeup case open on dresser, and his clothes strewn about the room.
Vincent sighed, and decided to clean up. About halfway through, he reached under the bed to grab a particularly pesky dress when he felt something long, hard and cylindrical.
He pulled it out. It was a big, very realistic looking dildo. Vincent held it in his dainty hands for a moment, and then looked around with paranoia. No one was in the house, he knew. He ran his hand along the dildo's length, feeling the raised veins, and then the mushroom-shaped head.
What would it hurt to just see how it felt? As soon as he asked the question to himself, he knew that he had already decided to do it. It was only a few more seconds before he had his shorts and panties off, and was staring at the dildo in his hand.
What position? After a few seconds of thought, he decided he'd ride it.
So, he put the dildo on the floor, base down, and squatted over it. He lowered himself, meeting a little resistance when it first hit the ring of his asshole. Then, he let his weight drop him further, and soon, the dildo was buried deep inside of him.
It was better than he had expected – a lot better. Few thoughts ran through Vincent's mind as he rode the dildo. He let out cute little moans every time he went down. Soon, he came. Basking in the afterglow, he lay down on his side for a few moments before he spread his legs, and started to work the dildo some more. He came again, leaving a sticky mess on the floor.
He dildo'd himself for about an hour before he was spent. He didn't even bother to put the dildo up. He just lay naked on the bed, legs still spread, and fell asleep.
Chuck found him like that a few hours later. He shook his friend awake.
“I see you found my little friend over there,” Chuck said with a smile. He was wearing a very short but loose green dress.
Vincent blushed. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
The dildo had opened the floodgates, removing the last shred of Vincent's masculinity. The next day, he and Chuck went shopping. They picked out a plethora of dresses, some cute skirts, some sexy lingerie, and even a two-piece bikini (summer was fast approaching).
In addition, Vincent wanted to get his ears and belly-button pierced, so they stopped by a local tattoo parlor. The tattoo artist convinced (it didn't take much persuasion) Vincent to get a tramp stamp. He picked out a small pink butterfly.
That night, dressed in sexy little black dresses, the bois went out to a local bar where they were the center of attention. Men hit on them both incessantly, but Vincent wasn't quite ready to take that step. So he went back to the frat house alone. Chuck, on the other hand, had gone home with an oriental fellow.
A little drunk, Vincent stumbled into his room, and flopped down on the bed, passing out.
That next week, Vincent ran into Greg again (not literally this time), and the two chatted for a few minutes. It turned out that Greg was pre-med, and belonged to one of the black fraternities on campus. He invited Greg to a party that weekend, which Vincent accepted.
“Bring some friends,” Greg said as the two parted. “It should be fun.”
Butterflies danced in Vincent's stomach as he went back to the frat house. The rest of the bois in the fraternity seemed eager as well. And of course Chuck was up for it.
The rest of the week passed without incident, though Vincent did see Greg a few more times. The two exchanged numbers.
The day of the party, Vincent was extremely nervous.
He knew he had to look sexy, but he didn't know what to wear. So he stood naked in front of his closet, staring at the myriad dresses, skirts, and blouses.
“The blue one,” Chuck said, entering the room. “It brings out your eyes.”
Smiling, Vincent pulled out the dress, throwing it on the bed. Then, he opened his panty drawer, and found a matching blue v-string, which he quickly pulled up his smooth legs. Then, he pulled the dress over his head, and let it settle on his body.
It was short, barely covering his ass cheeks. It was loose enough that when he danced, the men would get a good look at his matching panties. It was cut low in the front, past his belly button, which showed off his cute piercing and gently rounded belly.
As he looked in the mirror, he knew that he was going to drive Greg crazy.
Vincent and the other bois of Pi Kappa Phi walked up to the house. The party was already raging inside. They were allowed in, and soon, most were dancing along to the music or being hit on by strong, black men.
Vincent didn't see Greg anywhere, but he was offered a drink, so he took it, drinking it quickly. It wasn't long before another drink was put in his hand, and he drank that too. After a few such drinks, he was quite inebriated.
But it was a party. You were supposed to get drunk at a party. Soon, a man was dancing with him, feeling him up. Vincent rubbed against his crotch with his ass.
He spotted Chuck only a few feet away dancing with a black man who was only barely taller than he was. After a few more minutes of dancing, they were pushed together by the crowd, and they started to dance with one another. After a few moments of rubbing up against one another, Chuck whispered in Vincent's ear, “Over there and sit down.”
Vincent did as his friend told him, and the two gyrated towards a cushy chair. Vincent fell into the chair, while Chuck began a striptease. He pulled one string on his dress, and it fell to the floor, leaving him in just a tiny white thong.
That got the crowd's attention, and soon men, women, and bois gathered around.
Chuck danced and rubbed against his friend while Vincent's hands drunkenly roamed all over Chuck's body. After a minute or two, Chuck extended a dainty hand to Vincent, and pulled him out of the chair. And then Chuck kissed him. The crowd cheered.
Chuck pulled a couple of strings on Vincent's dress, and it too, fell to the ground. The two panty-clad bois danced and kissed until someone yelled, “Get those panties off!” The crowd went wild. Everyone was watching them.
Chuck shrugged, and slipped his panties off, throwing them into the crowd. Vincent hesitated at first, but then thought, what the hell, and did the same.
The two naked bois danced more, but the crowd wanted something else. It wasn't long before Vincent was back on the couch, his legs spread wide as Chuck sucked on his little dick while fingering him. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable as he made it seem, though he made a good show of it.
The crowd wanted still more, and so, Vincent found himself on the ground in a sixty-nine position with his best friend. They licked, sucked, and fingered one another for a few more minutes before one of the girls screamed, “Ass to ass!”
She looked familiar, and then it dawned on Vincent – she was the last woman he had ever fucked, the one he had left naked on the couch at that party.
Someone produced a double-ended dildo (who knows why they had one), and Vincent and Chuck got in position. Vincent felt the dildo enter him, and moaned. So much better than a finger. Then, Chuck felt the dildo enter him. He also let out a girlish moan. And then the two started working back and forth, their asses slapping as they came together.
It only lasted a few minutes before Vincent felt a strong pair of hands around his slender waist. He was picked up, to see a big, black man with no pants. He was set down, and then, immediately dropped to his knees, and started sucking. The cock was a monster, and he could barely fit it in his mouth.
Then, after a few minutes, the man picked him up, and put him over the arm of the couch, and without preamble or hesitation, plunged his big cock inside of Vincent. He cried out in pleasure as he glanced over to another couch, where the same thing was happening to his best friend.
The two frat bois' cries of ecstasy filled the house as they were fucked by two real men. They changed positions a few times, but Vincent's favorite was the last. The men were sitting side by side while Vincent and Chuck rode them. They leaned in and kissed one another, and the crowed cheered again.
Soon after that, Vincent felt the man's cum squirt deep into his ass. When he was done, the black man lifted Vincent off of him, and left him on the couch while Chuck finished up. It didn't take long. The two bois were exhausted and drunk, and soon passed out on the couch – still naked, and dripping cum from their asses.
Vincent awoke the next day with a splitting headache. He could vaguely remember his actions from the previous night, but a lot of it was a blur. He sat up, and was keenly aware of the leering stares of a few men sitting across the room.
He quickly found his panties, and slipped them on. His dress took a little longer, but he found it too. Chuck was nowhere to be seen. He hurried from there as quickly as possible, though he felt quite a few eyes on his back as he walked back to his fraternity house.
Vincent found Chuck asleep in his bed when he got home, and was about to wake him when an overwhelming urge to shower came over him. He slipped out of his clothes, and stepped into the shower. It took him a while, but eventually he got all of the dried cum out of his ass. When he got out, he felt a little better.
Tired, he decided to talk to Chuck about what had happened later.
Later never really came as neither Chuck nor Vincent were willing to revisit the occurrences of the party. And life went on.
Greg never called back, and Vincent heard that the man had seen him at the party going buck wild with anyone who would have him, and had decided that Vincent wasn't the type of boi for him. Vincent never really got over it, and spent the rest of his college days staying away from frat parties (though Chuck didn't share his aversion).
Vincent graduated a year later, and he got a job as an assistant to a powerful Japanese businessman. He heard that Chuck ended up working as a stripper.
Time went on, and eventually Vincent and his female lover decided to have children. The artificial insemination went well, and, once the baby was born, Vincent became a mother (bois could never be fathers). He quit his job, and became a stay-at-home mom to a darling baby boi.
As to the rest of the world – that is story for another time.