So we were told to report at 7 p. m. to the Rumpus Room. Which was now referred to as Butts Arena. Our wrestling costumes would be on our beds.
I walked resignedly into my room, ass tingling from being shaved, and sphincter throbbing from the absence of the thermometer. My phone rang. It was my Mom.
"Hello Gilbert Roseletti, and why haven't you called your father and me?"
"Ma, I told you pledge period we're not allowed to make calls out of the house. Didn't Dad tell you?"
That's right. I was a legacy of this fraternity. My Dad had pledged it before me. And boy, did he have a lot of explaining to do. I couldn't even picture my dignified father going through some of the humiliating _s_h_i_t_ they were putting me through. My corporate raider Dad stuffed in a pair of ballet tights and made to dance Swan Lake, spurred on by an ass paddling whenever he stopped dancing? Yeah, I had to do that.
"Well, your father's been hinting around to me that pledging is tough...so please be careful and don't do anything that you're not comfortable with Gil, okay?"
Well, I wasn't comfortable being duct-taped in a 69 to my best friend, gagged with his stiff _d_i_c_k_, and helplessly having to suck him off....does that count for anything, Ma?
"Yes, Ma. I'll call you soon. Okay? Love to you and Pop."
"You too, dear. Bye." Click.
I sighed and turned to look at myself in the mirror. Short crop of curly black hair with sideburns that I'm proud of. Tight pecs. Washboard that you could eat off of. I'm hung pretty well. V-shaped. Tight butt. Tall. I do kind of look like Vince Vaughn. The only thing I'm missing is the arrogance I used to have. It's been spanked out of me and I've got six months to go. I can't _f_u_c_k_ing wait until we're the brothers and we have our own group of pledges to abuse! Of course then I'll answer to my god-given name of Gil instead of the humiliating Buttface. Anyway, I saw my wrestling outfit on my bed and groaned. What the _f_u_c_k_?
I met Scotty out in the hallway and chortled. He flashed his crooked grin at me.
"Dude I can see your unit in that thing," he said with that raspy Boston accent. They were making me wear a wrestling singlet, but it was more like a Speedo with straps. It was bright blue with the thin straps over my shoulders, and so low cut in the front that the tip of my _c_o_c_k_ peeked out. You could see my navel, my happy trail, everything. It was cut high in the back so the bottoms of my butt cheeks hung out. Let's just say I looked ridiculous.
"Yeah _f_u_c_k_ you and the horse you rode in on - Barishnikov!" They had made him wear footless athletic tights that were like a second skin. Bright blue as well. They had an odd draw string top - kind of like a bathing suit one. In fact I noticed that the material of both our outfits was the same. Not lycra exactly but shinier and stretchier. It felt stronger, too. Probably some invention of Evan's. Great.
He modeled em' for me. Scotty's from Boston, short and built like a brick _s_h_i_t_house. He was bare-chested. His butt looked like two blue perky cantaloupes in his tights. You know this _s_h_i_t_ is starting to get to me if I'm admiring my best friend's bubble butt. But I gotta say I always got a rod watching Scotty get paddled. Something about that butt, it kind of just invited spanking.
We headed downstairs. In the center of the Rumpus room was what only could be described as a huge air mattress the size of a wrestling ring. The MIGHTY BROTHERS had set up chairs on one side for them, plus two kegs of beer. Evan was even dressed in a tux like a ring announcer. Joe was dressed in a pink buttfloss thong and _d_a_m_n_ if his ass wasn't the whitest thing on earth! Farmboy. Spike was wearing sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt and socks! What?!?
"Why the _f_u_c_k_ does Tubby get to wear clothes?" Scotty asked pissed off. His thighs were rock-hard in those tights. Like his lower half had been dipped in electric blue paint. I remembered our Sunday Dinner when our butts were made into candle-holders and they had body-painted the two of us naked.
Dean was smiling at him, and Spike looked uneasy.
Later I found out that Dean had worn the same exact thing during his pledge period wrestling match and Jabba had made short work of him. We were about to find out how.