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Lance
“Lance, you gottaget dressed! Hurry!”
“Dude, weren’t you supposed to be back here already?”
“We’re heading out soon. Come on. Chop, chop.”
As I rush through the Alpha Theta Mu house, I keep having to tell the guys, “I’m moving as fast as I can,” while my fellow frats give me hell about how behind I am.
The past few years, I’ve never had an issue holding down a job, attending classes, standing as the fraternity’s president, and making it to the all-important TaskFrat challenges to remind all the rival frats who’s the baddest frat at Peach State. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Peachtree Springs decided to start construction on the highway today, which had me backed up for thirty minutes on my way here from having lunch with my parents, and I’ve been freaking out, since I don’t want to let my team down on the first challenge of the season.
I scramble into my room, hurrying to get into my TaskFrat Challenge outfit, as per the email we received earlier in the week, which lists the guidelines and dress code for the event.
As I slip on the G-string, noticing just how revealing it is, I’m relieved we’re still enjoying the warmth of what’s been a lovely Georgia September. I’m also feeling surprisinglyconfident about my body as I check myself out in my closet floor-length mirror. Although, this outfit seems unusually skimpy for a challenge. Not that we haven’t had to wear ridiculously revealing outfits in the past, but the most we’ve ever gotten down to is Speedos. Still, it shouldn’t surprise me, since Beta Pi is in charge of today’s task, and they’re known for their sexy-themed parties.
And hey, guess everyone’s gonna get a good view of how fortunate this bulge is.
A knock at the door draws my attention away from my crotch, and maybe because I’m so used to the humiliating outfits TaskFrat puts me into, I don’t even think twice when I call out, “Come in!”
Ash Fuller, my best bud and fratbro, enters, wearing his G-string and his Alpha Theta Mu sleeveless crop top that matches the one I’m heading to my drawer to fetch.
“Someone was cutting it close,” Ash says, plopping down on the edge of my bed. “I was about to see if one of the sophomores would be willing to step up in your place.”
As I find my crop top, I say, “I’m shocked I’m willing to do this humiliating crap.”
“You know you love the attention. Who signs up for TaskFrat Challenge if they don’t?”
Fair point. The TaskFrat challenges are essentially a series of task-based games that Peach State frats made up to create a safe version of hazing for entertainment purposes, while posting pics and vids of the events on socials is like free advertisement for future pledges.
“And some of the noobs want their turn in the spotlight,” he adds.
“They’ll get their chance for the bigger games.” I toss off my shirt and swap out. “And what’s it gonna look like to therushes if the president isn’t out there representing us?”
“Been president for three years, and you’re some kind of PR wiz all of a sudden.”
“You know it,” I joke, checking out my skimpy outfit in the mirror. My muscles are really bulging today. I flex my abs. “I make this look good.” I wait for Ash to confirm, but he’s quiet, stirring some insecurity. “I look good, right? You’re my bi bro. You’re supposed to boost my self-esteem.”
“Does my straight best friend need some confidence today?” Ash asks. “I have praised your body more than enough the past week. You’re looking like you put in some serious workouts now that we have our own fitness room.”
“You liking the gun show?” I flex my biceps, which I’ve given plenty of attention to as well.
Ash hops up from the bed and approaches. “Oh my! Such a big, strong, straight man. I’m so turned on right now. Is that what you needed?” He doesn’t even pretend to be enthusiastic—that’s Ash for ya.
“You be glad your boyfriend isn’t here to kick my ass for you drinking me in like that,” I tease.
“Oh yeah, he’d be real intimidated.”
Colin, his boyfriend—former Alpha Theta Mu alum, now at Emory Law—is swole with muscle, used to be a tight end for Peach State, so I definitely couldn’t compete with that. And really, our relationship isn’t like that at all. Still, gotta give my fratbro hell.
“Whatever,” I say. “If I were queer, you know you would have hit this.”
“Keep telling yourself that, man.”
“What is this talk about?” I hear from behind us as two of our Alpha Theta Mu friends, Marty and Payton, head in, Payton in his outfit, Marty wearing athletic shorts.
“Are you out of your mind?” Marty asks. “I come by and you’re talking about messing around behind your boyfriend’s back?”