The Hazing

by

Ratty

ratty11@hotmail.com


It's a good feeling to belong. By the end of my first summer at Tau Kappa Epsilon, one of the rowdier fraternities at UC Berkeley, I felt I belonged. I was a "Teke" in full standing, having bypassed the usually obligatory initiation and avoiding the stigma of being a lowly pledge. This bit of luck came about, I suppose, as a result of my having arrived for my freshman year at the beginning of the summer to attend the university's summer session. Things in a college town are, well, a lot more intimate in the summer when most students have gone home. When I moved into the frat house, my easy going manner and eagerness to make friends got me accepted right away with the summer members of the house and especially with Tim.

Tim was the president of the house, a senior in mathematics, active on the wrestling team and most definitely NOT gay! Or at least he always insisted to me and probably even to himself. I know better now, of course, but then... well, hey, I was a freshman what can I say? Tim was the one in the house who immediately took me under his wing and saw to it that I was accepted by the other house members. He got me the nice bedroom, a double through which he passed to get to his own single room, got me the easiest jobs in the house and immediately became my fast friend. Looking back it was all very easy to see: I was seventeen, blonde, naive and was still in very good physical shape from my senior year on the swim team in high school. I appealed to Tim's latent gayness. Well that's okay... Tim appealed to mine.

I remember when my brief but intense crush on him began. I had just returned from taking a shower and was returning to my room wearing only a bathrobe when Tim, who had been waiting for me behind the open door to my room, leaped up on me and threw me down on the bed. He was in a playful mood and began wrestling with me, actually toying with me, he was a very good wrestler. I was no wimp myself but he definitely had the skill and succeeded in twisting me like a pretzel into various pins and holds. I laughed and struggled to hold my own but was no match. Then he applied the famous "grapevine". He lay underneath me, my back to his chest, and twined his legs around mine, pinning them. My left arm was forced back up behind my head where he held it with his right hand, my other arm was pinned beneath him. I struggled but to no avail. That's when, with his other free hand, he undid the tie of my robe and flipped it open exposing a very vulnerable chest and stomach. Then very lightly he began tickling my ribs and stomach. I began to squirm and laugh and he laughed and began tickling my ribs in earnest. I was squirming and laughing helplessly. He moved his tickling fingers aver my stretched out body, around the sides and around the navel. I struggled desperately and began to get hysterical.

When he moved up to my armpits I began screaming and struggling like a demon but could not get free. It was the worst torture and he wouldn't stop! He dug into my armpits and tickled and tickled me there till tears streamed down my face from screaming, laughing and begging him to stop all at once.

That's when my roommate walked in. Tim froze and let me go. I struggled out of his hold and practically slumped to the floor in exhaustion. Obviously embarrassed my roommate walked to his desk redfaced, got what it was he had come for and left. Tim, more embarrassed still, stumbled for his door and disappeared into his room. I had the raging hard-on of all time poking out of my robe and later I realized that I had felt a similar response in Tim when I had lain, pinned, on top of him. All-in-all, an embarrassing situation. In the morning none of us spoke of it.

The thing was, this sort of thing happened all through the summer. I would be peacefully lying on my bed doing my homework when he would burst through my door at a dead run, leap on top of me, pinning my arms behind my back, and tickle me mercilessly. He was always initiating little fights with me, friendly fights that would end with him wrestling me to the ground, pinning me and then proceeding to torture me in his usual fashion. I felt ambivalent about these attacks. On the one hand I loved the attention Tim showed to me. I certainly enjoyed the physical contact these "sessions" provided, the feel of his hard muscular body against mine and all that, the ever-present rock-hard bulge in. Tim's pants pressing into me, and my own erection as if in answer. But on the other hand, I can't stand to be tickled. It really makes me insane. It's the worst torture imaginable to me. So in time I came to resent it. I protested more and certainly fought back more furiously, but that only seemed to make him want to tickle me more.

It was the afternoon before the initiation of the new pledges. Tim, myself and three of the other senior members of the house were sitting in the television room drinking beer and watching a rerun of some detective show. One of the pledges walked past the door. He had just come from playing basketball outside and sweat was pouring down his shirtless torso because of the heat.

"Jameson!" Tim called. "Jameson get in here!" Rod Jameson appeared around the corner.

"You called me?" He smiled. Had I been standing my knees would have buckled under me. His smile melted you. For that matter so did his hard, well-muscled body, tanned from an afternoon of playing basketball.

"30 push-ups, NOW!!!" Rod looked at Tim, puzzled. "Well come on, you heard me. Down on the floor!" Rod dropped to the floor and began pumping up and down, one, two, three... the other senior members in the room laughed and gathered around and watched, laughing. A lowly initiate was being subservient to a senior member. I was disgusted, (also a little intrigued at the eroticism of it all) I had to protest.

"Tim, for God's sake..." I began.

"You shut up!" He pointed a finger at me. I remained still. Rod finished the push ups and was excused by the laughing seniors. I left after him boiling with rage. I had half a mind to quit this fraternity. The whole system of blackmail and slavery imposed on prospective candidates was cruel. Then I felt guilty. I was already accepted and therefore immune to the usual abuse new initiates had to face. I was also, thankfully, exempt from whatever hazing activity was to take place that very evening. I had a feeling that the traditional initiations: swallowing goldfish, paddlings, streaking through a sorority party, etc., were too old fashioned for this group of bastards. I had no idea what they might dream up. I was only glad I wouldn't find out first hand.

As I walked down the hall toward my room I saw something peculiar through the half-open door of one of the bedrooms of a senior member. There were two of them in there, one was standing on a step ladder with a length of rope in his hand and was tying it to something on the ceiling, a nail or screw or something. Then he tied another length of rope right by it so that the two lengths hung down from the ceiling about three feet apart. One of them saw me looking in the room at them.

"Get outta here!" he snarled. Then to his friend; "Close the door." Puzzled, I walked down the hall to go down the stairs but stopped at a sound before I got there. A goat. It sounded like a goat. I walked to a window and sure enough, there on the back lawn was a goat, five goats. There were five goats on our back lawn, each tied to a stake so that they could graze. I had lived here all summer and was blissfully unaware that five goats were grazing on our back lawn. This warranted closer inspection.

I walked downstairs and towards the back door but was again distracted by another curious sight. Several senior members had turned all of the dining room tables on their sides and were pounding away at them with hammers and screwing away at them with screwdrivers. Rope, again, I though to myself. They were tying rope to various places on each of the long, heavy oak tables. For a second time I was shooed from the room and, as I walked away, a sinister thought about the initiation that night popped into my head. I quickly dismissed it as too horrible.

It was ten o'clock when I looked up again from the book I had been reading, I could hear voices coming from the meeting room downstairs. The initiation had begun. I walked down the staircase and stood in the shadows of the landing to watch the meeting for a while. There were about ten new members. They sat quietly in their seats watching as Tim spoke to them about duties to the fraternity, rules, party schedules and such. The big sliding doors to the dining room were shut, something I'd never seen before (I hadn't even been aware that there WERE doors to the dining room), and behind the group of new members the senior members, about twenty of them, were grinning and whispering suspiciously amongst themselves. Every now and then they'd burst into quiet fits of laughter. Occasionally one of the freshmen would turn at the commotion and a senior would glare at him sternly and motion him to turn around and pay attention. This incited the seniors to more bursts of quiet laughter.

"Now we come to the business of initiating you guys. Now I know you've all heard lots of shit about hazing and stuff... we don't do none of that. We want our brotherhood here to be a symbol of respect. A time of growing that each of you can look back on with pride long after graduation." Stifled laughter from the back of the room. "Initiation into this fraternity is a personal thing, an intimate thing. Our tradition here is to initiate each new member individually, by a small group of trusted friends and fellow brothers." More laughter from the back. "As I call your names I want you to go with a small group of brothers into the dining room where you will be initiated into our fraternity."

Tim called the first name. One of the freshmen stood up and three of the rowdier boys from the back of the room came forward with huge grins on their faces to escort him to the dining room. I was suspicious. They were up to something. I could see it on their grins as the three seniors returned alone from the dining room.

"Ah yes, what a joyful experience it is to initiate a new brother." Tim said, barely able to keep a straight face himself. He called another name and the freshman who rose eyed the grinning bunch with great suspicion. He accompanied them into the dining room, a large frown across his face. Eight freshmen were led into the dining room in this way. None of them came back out. Two more were led toward the landing of the stairs. I quickly but quietly dashed upstairs and hid in a small dark alcove. They walked past me, then on up another flight to the third floor. I decided to slip downstairs. Whatever was happening in the dining room intrigued me more than anything else.

I paused at the top of the stairs and listened for sounds from below. Nothing. The house was silent. Most all of the house members had gone home during the short break between summer session and the beginning of the fall semester. Only myself and the other fifteen or so senior members remained, and a few of them had returned just for the initiation tonight. So the house had been pretty quiet for the last couple of days. But the quiet that crept up the stairway to me now was different. It was the quiet of something hiding. The death stillness of something horrible and hidden, waiting to leap out at you.

As I descended into the now vacant lower floor and stole across the empty meeting room towards the closed kitchen doors, a giggle seeped out from somewhere. It reeked of mischief. Then there were voices, scrabbling sounds of tools and something being rearranged, another burst of giggles, then Tim's voice: "Okay, everyone at their places?" he called out loudly. I could stand the suspense no longer and I very gingerly pushed the kitchen door open a crack and peered through. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping.

All eight of the initiates who had been brought into the kitchen were tied up on the dining room tables. They were all shirtless, some were still wearing their pants, others nothing more than a jockstrap. They were spread-eagled, bound at the wrists and ankles and all of them were blindfolded and gagged with strips of heavy black cloth. The overhead lights were bright and harsh, shining down like spotlights on their helpless bodies.

"Take off their blindfolds and gags!" Tim ordered. The seniors who were standing close by, there were at least one by each bound body, removed the gags and blindfolds from the helpless prisoners. All at once the room was alive with shouts and indignant protests from the tied-up freshmen. One particularly vocal one was tied up on the table nearest to me.

"You fuckers! Get me outta here! I'll kill you when I get outta this! Lemme go! I'll call the cops on you perverts!" He was writhing and struggling desperately to free himself. He was skinny with very pale skin and dark black hair. His armpits, filled with thick black hair contrasted sharply with his white body.

"Tsk tsk." Tim shook his head in mock disappointment. "Such language." He became stern and made a gesture to the man standing by the prisoner. "Tickle him!"

A huge grin spread across the guys face as he dug his thumbs into the exposed pits of the captive's arms and started wriggling them back and forth. All at once the victim started screaming then erupted into uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. His tormentor continued tickling his armpits with his thumbs, smiling sadistically, oblivious to the laughter and mad bucking of his victim's body. His torturer kept this up for about a minute, then stopped at Tim's signal.

"Now," Tim smiled, "anyone else wish to register a complaint?" Silence met his grin. "You guys sure are in an awful vulnerable position. If we get anymore outbursts like that we're just gonna have to tickle you. I bet you wouldn't like that one bit." The captives stared at him wide-eyed with horror. Tim walked among the tables. "Not a bit." He laughed and stopped at the table of another black-haired victim. He was probably the most muscular of the group, and looked to be the least ticklish. He was clad only in a too-tight jockstrap. His bare armpits were virtually overflowing with black hair. His chest was lightly covered with hair that started thickly at his stomach, traveled upward in a line and circled his nipples.

"Now maybe we're just gonna go ahead and tickle you guys anyway. Teach you a lesson you'll never forget. We're gonna tickle you guys to death!" With that, each captor approached his victim. Tim's black-haired victim looked up at his approaching fingers, wiggling back and forth teasingly and screamed: "No! God, please don't, NO, Aaaaaaaaaaaauuuuughhhh, ha ha ha ah ha .... " All at once they began to tickle their tied-up captives. The room was filled with a screaming laughter.

Tim was digging greedily into the armpits of the hairy-chested man he had been standing over, relishing the screams of insane laughter. "Stop, oh God! stop ... ha ha ha ha, please, I ... ha ha beg ... you Aaaaauuuuuurrrrghhhha ha ha ..." He writhed and twisted in his bonds as Tim tickled him. Then as Tim worked his way down, tickling the screaming captive's ribs, I saw him plunge a hand into the guy's jock and feel around savagely. Still tickling an armpit, he pulled the jockstrap down exposing the dark, hairy crotch. A monstrous cock, almost hard flopped out and Tim grabbed it and massaged it as the tortured male writhed his pelvis in the tickle torment.

The thin guy who had been the first one tickled was screaming and screaming. His tormentor also had a hand down his levis as he tickled him at the same time, having found a particularly sensitive spot in the ribs.

I watched horrified and fascinated for ten minutes as the torture of the freshmen boys kept up. Most of them, by that time, had had their jockstraps removed or their levis unbuttoned and pulled down and were being fondled and tickled at the same time. All of them were erect and a few were moaning in pleasure.

The house was filled with the sounds of screams and painful, helpless laughter and after a time I became aware of more tickle-laughter coming from upstairs. I pulled myself away from the dining room and hurried up the stairs to the third floor.

The screams of helpless laughter were coming out of the room that I'd been shooed out of earlier that afternoon. I hid myself just outside of the room and carefully peered around the door into the room. It was Rod Ferguson, hanging by his wrists from the ropes which hung from the ceiling. He too had only his jockstrap on and his ankles were tied to screws set into the floor. They were tickling him now, three of them. One was working on his sides, another on the ribs and the third was tickling his open, exposed armpits, filled with wet blonde hair. He must have been the most ticklish guy I'd ever seen. His screams and laughter were so intense. He struggled only a little though, he was already exhausted from all the tickling he had endured before I had come upstairs. Sweat was streaming down his tanned body, little rivulets from his tortured underarms, rivulets running down the muscles of his heaving belly. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, dripping wet with sweat. His three tormentors kept tickling him mercilessly. He begged them between gasps of laughter. "Please ... I, I beg you ... ha ha ha ha. Aaauuughhr... ha ha ha, stop, oh stop...HA HA HA HA HA" But they only laughed and tickled him more.

One of them stopped and crossed to the front of the tied-up boy. He kneeled down and touched his hard-on, bulging from his jockstrap as if to break out at any moment. Then, very slowly, ignoring the struggling and writhing of the tickled body, he pulled the jockstrap down. His cock was huge. It throbbed out of its confinement, his balls hung down from the thick mass of pubic hair. His tormentor touched the head with a fingertip and the organ jerked spasmodically. Still being tickled, Rod let out a moan then continued laughing hysterically. His cock twitched again as this time a tongue was lightly applied to its head. The guy who had tickling his armpits began to touch his nipples lightly instead. The tickling torment now being let up completely, the guy in front allowed the swollen cock to enter his mouth. He swallowed it up then began to let it in and out of his mouth picking up rhythm. Rod went limp in his bonds, just hanging tied up from the ceiling. Through all of his exhaustion he began moaning in incredible pleasure. His eyeballs rolled up and showed only white.

"Oh God that feels so gooood, ah, ah yes. oh God, aaaaaahhh that's soooo good!" Now the other two guys licked his nipples lightly with their tongues which elicited more moans and he let his head loll backwards.

I watched half astounded, half horny out of my wits. Rod Jameson who had been tortured to the edge of I don't know what just moments before was now on the verge of attaining the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced in his life. He hanged limply from the ceiling moaning when I heard a loud noise from outside. Goats! It was the baa-ing sound of the goats coming from the lawn in back of the house.

I left my hiding place and walked to the end of the hall and looked out the window down onto the back lawn. It was nighttime already but the grounds were lit up by outdoor searchlights. I saw the small herd of goats I had seen earlier that afternoon but I also saw something different. Two more of the initiates were tied down naked, their wrists and ankles tied to wooden stakes pounded into the ground. The goats were baa-ing animatedly and three of the senior members were standing around the two helpless boys laughing and joking. There were a couple of boxes on the ground next to them but I couldn't see what was in them. They began rummaging around in the boxes so I took the opportunity to slip down to the second floor window for a closer look.

They were taking out shaving equipment. One of the guys was already putting shaving cream in one of the prisoner's armpits. He sprayed a big blob in the hairy pit and began smoothing it out. Even this slight motion sent the kid into hysterics. That one must be VERY ticklish I thought. I couldn't imagine exactly what they were going to do to him but it wouldn't be pleasant. The senior put cream into the other armpit and smoothed it out perhaps more vigorously than he had to. Then, a sadistic grin spreading across his face, he straddled the guy, took a firm grip on his naked ribs and began tickling him. His victim squirmed and screamed for about a minute before one of the guys put a stop to it. "Save it." he said.

Then he moved on to the other bound victim. As he applied shaving cream to that one's armpit, another guy started shaving all of the hair from the first boy's pit. Even that sent him into hysterics. After both boys' armpits were shaved smooth and hairless the three rummaged around more in the boxes and took out what looked to be plastic bags filled with clear liquid. They hung each bag on top of a tall wooden pole and positioned them over the boys' bodies. There were about sixteen poles, each with a plastic bag of fluid hanging from them. Then the three men put a small hole into the bags so the fluid dripped out slowly, drop by drop onto the bodies of the helpless victims.

One bag was positioned above each of their freshly-shaven armpits so that the drops fell there, more bags above the sides and ribs and there were bags dripping their fluid on their bare feet. The feet were tied to stakes, two stakes per foot in the fashion of a splint, keeping the feet completely immobile. Suddenly it became clear to me, With a dawning horror I realized why the bags were positioned where they were, They must be filled with salt water, I thought even as they released the goats.

Sure enough, the goats attacked the helpless boys with probing, licking tongues hungry for salt. Such insane desperate screams I have never heard from a human being. One goat each nuzzled and licked their oh so ticklish armpits, licked and caressed their sides. The goats fought each other to lick and lick greedily at the soles of their feet.

The two initiates writhed in agony and the screaming turned to a helpless hysterical laughing that didn't stop. They both screamed and laughed and tried desperately to beg for mercy but couldn't stop laughing long enough. These two must have been the absolute most ticklish ones in the whole bunch and to condemn them to such torture was inhuman. The three seniors stood around laughing almost as loud as their prisoners. Every time the laughter changed timbre, going up another notch on the hysterical scale, they laughed all the more. Then to make matters worse, they left them. The three guys walked into the house, one of them calling back, "See you guys in the morning. Have a fun night!" then more guffaws. I looked back down at the two guys, laughing and screaming more now than before even. If it was possible to tickle a man to death, those two would not live another hour.

I could bear it no longer. I had to do something. I was surprised at how quickly the idea came to me. I crept down the stairs to begin laying my plans.

It will be a long night. I wonder where Tim is the most ticklish. I will certainly know very soon. After I freed the two from their unhuman tormentors we began to figure out what to do about the inhuman ones. Actually it was incredibly simple. Using the element of surprise we stormed the three torturers upstairs, tied them up, cut Rod down (Half dead!) and took care of the rest. That was the fun part. We went out to the fuse box, cut the power and picked them off one-by-one as they came out to repair the trouble.

We're all here in the dining room now, one big happy family. A real brotherhood. The seniors are all tied up I might add. We've taken off their shirts and they are looking very nervous. I wonder why? We haven't even touched them... yet. Tim's right here next to me, stretched out and very vulnerable, He hasn't said a word to me so far. There is fear in his eyes, and a hard-on bigger than the statue of liberty in his levis. I have a feather. Is that too cliche? Anyway I'm just now starting to lightly stroke the fine blonde hair in his armpit. He's squirming now and giggles are starting to rise from the rest of our prisoners in the room. It's a shame that Tim will enjoy this so much. That's not my intent. At least not tonight... maybe the next time... AM He's really starting to writhe as I stroke his stomach, look at those muscles twitch. I think I've found his spot, I'll have him giggling in another couple of minutes.

I'm in no rush.

It's going to be a long night.

Ratty
ratty11@hotmail.com


www.ropejock.com