She bit down on the edge of the wrapper, tearing it with her teeth like a rabid animal. She snatched it from the table and stared straight at the flaccid target. After a flicker of hesitation and another camera flash, her resolve hardened. One thought took over: I want to be one of them.

She moved in until the condom was at the tip. As the audience cheered, blood rushed into the target, making him grow a few inches. She used her tongue to steady the ring, but as she finished the rotation, the latex slipped from the hardening cock and bounced onto the floor. The frat boys roared. She saw the other pledges still struggling with their wrappers; she had the lead, but it was slipping.

She kicked her chair aside and threw herself to the ground, her substantial frame jarring as she hit the floor. It smelled of old shoes and stale alcohol, but she crawled until she found the condom, snatched it up with her teeth, and stood back up like a seal performing a trick. She tried again, but the rubber kept slipping.

She realized she was using all brawn and no brain—a trait she despised. A condom was designed for an erect penis, not a flaccid one. If she wanted to succeed, she had to commit. Her hand shook as she reached out; a piece of her soul fought the urge to grab the manhood of a student she’d never met.

FLASH.

The thought of her "brothers" never letting her hear the end of it if she lost to "Gayden" snapped her into focus. She reached out, gripped him like a steak knife, and started jerking him off vigorously. They thought they were clever, letting her struggle with a soft target, but as she worked him toward her face, she felt the same cold competence that made her a successful principal.

“Hey!” one of the pledges shouted, dropping his condom. “She’s using her hand! That’s against the rules!”

“Charles!” Dionysus shouted. “Slap him for being an idiot.” The large man in front of the pledge grabbed his own dick and slapped it across the boy's cheek. Mary Anne let out a small giggle.

“The rules state you can’t use your hands to put the condom on,” Dionysus clarified, his piercing stare landing on Mary Anne. “She’s clearly not putting it on yet. If the rest of you learned from her, we wouldn't have so many idiots in this fraternity. Carry on. You’re being such a good girl.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smirk.

Marcus patted her back. The young stud in front of her was nearly at full mast, proving to be considerably larger than her "average" ex-husband. She reached forward, but he was only at ninety-five percent. She needed this to be perfect.

She let the condom fall onto the table. With her tongue extended and her eyes locked on the stranger, she tapped into the memories of what used to drive her husband crazy. She went for the base, enveloping the underside and tracing her tongue up the middle of his scrotum. At the tip, she flicked him, tasting pre-cum that made her gag internally even as she smiled through it.

The cock became harder than the boy likely thought possible. She snatched the condom back up, spreading it with her tongue, and enveloped him in one smooth motion. Before pulling away, she gave him a parting gift, wiggling her throat muscles until he shook with pleasure. When she finally released him, the tip of the condom was already filled.

Cheers erupted. No one else was even close; Hayden hadn’t even managed to rip his wrapper. The living room became a deafening roar, the bass surging as if the house itself were cheering. Mary Anne stood tall, her chest heaving, a smear of lubricant glistening on her chin. An electric heat radiated from her skull to her toes. She had won, and the high was more intoxicating than any vintage wine she’d ever sipped at a faculty gala.

Everyone came together, crowding around the principal as she put her hands up in mock protest, but her smile betrayed her true feelings. “That’s my girl!” Marcus bellowed, a predatory grin splitting his face. In a thrill of the moment, as everyone was congratulating her, she felt heavy-handed slap right across her left butt cheek. Normally, she would have been livid, but the rush of belonging was too great and Marcus wasn’t making a big deal about it so why should she? She simply slapped his right back with a wink.

“ Congratulations to the experienced Mary Anne Thompson for her first victory of the night!” Dynonysus clapped his hands together, and everyone joined him as he continued, “ but we are not just a place for pledge challenges. We are a fraternity. And what kind of fuck ass fraternity would we be if we didn’t take a break so everyone could get their beaks wet?” he pointed to the outside doors, “bring them in boys!”

A collection of hooligans came in with kegs, coolers, and straight, presumably warm, 24 packs of Natty Light.

Most of them were flanked by hot women, most of which were wearing shirts with Greek letters on them. A notable group of particularly attractive young women were each wearing highlighter pink shirts, as if to stand out from the crowd. 

“Please, drink and more importantly celebrate the rise to the pantheon!” He cracked open a beer, down the whole thing, crushed it against his forehead, and found the closest lady who melted into his arms as they kissed.

The high of the victory lingered as the music shifted into a more melodic, heavy mix of R&B and house music. Marcus appeared at Mary Anne’s side, offering her a dripping can with a look of expectant camaraderie. She held up a hand, her principal’s instinct momentarily overriding the adrenaline. "I can't. I appreciate the offer, though," she stated, her voice regaining a hint of its usual classroom authority.

“Come on, sweetheart. One drink.”

She knew she shouldn’t. She was already in enemy territory, and dulling her senses seemed like the worst decision possible. She didn’t want to end up falling for something she wouldn’t normally do on a day-to-day basis. Sure, she had flashed her butt at the camera, but it had been clarified that they needed blackmail to protect their own identities; it made sense. As for the fact that she had just given a handjob to a random college student—normally, that would be outside of her wheelhouse—but not only was she protecting Hayden, but fraternity brothers have sex all the time, so it made sense that they would look out for each other when it comes to wearing proper protection. Not to mention, she would’ve looked like a "bitch" in front of the brothers if she hadn't, and that was another risk she wasn’t willing to take.

“I really shouldn’t,” she said, although her resolve was already starting to wane.

Marcus popped the tab, the hiss of carbonation punctuating the air, and held it closer to her face. "You aren't on the job, Mary Anne. You’re a pledge who just put the rest of these boys to shame." Just then, the strobe light flickered and a camera flashed from the corner of the room, capturing her standing there with the smear of lubricant still on her face. The sight of the other boys, "Gayden" included, chugging their drinks with desperate fervor made her chest tighten.

"Fine," she relented, snatching the can. "If all the other pledges are doing it, I suppose I should follow suit." She took a long, stinging gulp, the bitter bubbles masking the lingering taste of the condom.

“Tastes good, right?” Marcus asked, leaning in close to be heard over the loud music.

“I mean, it tastes like cheap beer, so—” FLASH “Yeah. Who doesn’t love a cheap beer, bro?”

She had no idea where that had come from, but before she could think about it too much, Marcus responded, “Hell yeah, dude! There’s plenty to go around. I’m gonna go talk to some of the other girls. I trust you can take care of yourself, Principal Thompson.”

As soon as he left, she felt a slight nagging feeling; it stunned her to realize that she actually kind of missed his presence. She shook it off, finished the rest of her beer, and went in search of another one. She walked to a cooler in the corner of the room, where a couple of the guys congratulated her on her great job during the first challenge, to which she replied with a smile and a nod. She grabbed a beer, popped it open, and took a big swig. She wondered why she didn’t have more of these at home, because they were really quite tasty.

She had barely stopped drinking when a hand gripped her upper arm with surprising force and pulled her into a nearby room. After a slight daze, her son and his wiry frame became clear in the poorly decorated bedroom in which they now found themselves. His face was a mask of pale horror and mounting fury. The silence of the cramped space was jarring, broken only by the muffled, rhythmic thud of the bass through the walls. He turned on her, his voice a frantic whisper.

"What is wrong with you? What are you doing, Mom? You just... you just did that in front of everyone! You’re the principal of a damn high school!" He sat down on his bed, head in his hands. He looked sad, almost pathetic. She really wanted to comfort him, to hold her son and let him know that everything would be alright, but also to let him know it’s okay that he was acting like a "whiny bitch boy." She stepped closer.

Mary Anne smoothed her hair, though her fingers still felt a bit clumsy from the rush, and adjusted her blouse. She looked at her son, seeing the "Gayden" nickname written in the shame of his eyes, and her expression softened into something more maternal, yet weary.

"I came here to shut this place down, Hayden," she admitted, leaning back against a stack of winter coats. "The neighbors have been calling for three hours about the volume. I was going to walk in here, find the person in charge, and have this entire house cited." She paused; the flash of the camera still burned in her retinas.

"But then I saw you," she continued, her voice gaining a hard edge. "I heard what they were saying. I saw that they were going to humiliate you, to make you the 'loser' of the night. I couldn't just stand there and watch my son become a doorstop for a bunch of overgrown toddlers." She reached out, patting his cheek with her thumb. "I’m here to make sure you survive this, even if I have to out-drink and out-frat every one of these idiots to do it. Now, straighten your shirt. We have another round to win."

“But Mom… you touched Rick's cock. Can’t we just leave?”

“And lose?” She took her son by the hand, careful to hide her disappointment. “When you say things like this, it makes me understand a little better why your bullies make fun of you. Now stop being a wuss and come out there and drink. There are some pretty girls out there, so now’s your chance to finally lose your virginity.”

With nothing else to say, he walked out the door. Mary Anne walked out smugly, too; all of her training had made her a truly excellent mother.

By the time she left the room, the whole place was jumping. The colors of the room shifted from red to blue to green and then purple again. It smelled like yeast and a mix of cheap deodorants. The scent was as intoxicating as the can of beer she had grabbed and was sipping on again. She made her way through the crowd, bumping into denim-clad frat boys and sorority girls in short skirts. Occasionally, someone would stop and congratulate her on her performance in the competition.

“Thank you!” she said with a shy smile. Even though she was happy to have won and to be there now, a part of her was starting to feel out of place among the crowd of college students—especially in her blouse and pants compared to the floozy outfits of the women around her. Maybe it would be better for her to just leave while she was ahead, take her son, and in the morning, have her meeting with the headmistress to get this fraternity permanently disbanded.

FLASH

Or she could stay, maybe have one more of these tasty beers. Yes, just one more beer and then she could finally leave this place which seemed to affect her mind like a lotus flower. As she went to the cooler, she heard a familiar voice. “Principal Thompson!” called Marcus, with a hot brunette giggling in his arms.

“Who’s this?” replied Mary Anne, a touch of jealousy in her tone that she did not intend for.

“Oh just one of the sorority sluts. Don’t worry bro there’s plenty to go around.” Mary Anne wasn’t interested in girls, right?

“I am not a slut,” the slutty brunette responded.

“Yeah, whatever. Just suck my sick, bitch” Marcus said. Lowering his pants to expose the biggest cock Mary Anne had ever seen. It was twice the size of the last one she had put a condom on and she started to wonder how difficult it would be to wrap her mouth around his.

“God, you’re the fucking worst.” The brunette said, as she sunk to the ground and dove onto his cock with full abandon.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” Marcus said, “you know if you join us, you’ll get perks like this too. Of course as our only female pledge you would have to provide a couple of perks too.” 

“I don’t want that. I have a  perfectly satisfactory sex-”

FLASH

“Hey Mary Anne!” Some nearby frat boys shouted. You want to try the keg stand.

She hesitated, before looking back at Marcus and the brunette who was currently clinging to him. Why should he have all the fun.

She walked over. She  had never done a keg stand before, but she wasn’t about to start asking baboons questions on how to open a banana, she could just as easily do it herself. She let the two massive frat boys grab her by the thighs, lifting her upside down. Her blouse fell toward her chin, exposing the soft, pale curve of her midriff and the lace at the base of her bra to the cheering crowd. She felt the cold bite of the keg nozzle pressed against her lips.

Swallow, Mary Anne. Don’t be a bitch.

The liquid fire of the Natty Light hit her throat. She gulped it down, her eyes squeezed shut as the rhythm of the room, the chanting, the bass, the heat, pulsed through her inverted body. When they finally flipped her back down, she landed with a heavy thud, her head spinning in a glorious, golden haze. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her hair a wild mess, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She looked to Marcus, but he was too focused on that young tart between his legs. 

Suddenly, Dionysus climbed back onto his makeshift throne, silencing the room with a sharp whistle. He looked down at the pledges, his eyes lingering on Mary Anne’s flushed face.

“Attention, mortals!” The group of girls in highlighter-pink shirts stepped forward, their eyes sharp and hungry. Dionysus paced before them like a general. “The next challenge is Coed Musical Chairs. But we aren't playing for seats. We’re playing for release. There are ten of you pledges left, but only nine of these gorgeous Pink Sorority girls. When the music stops, you better have a Pink in your lap. If you’re the one left standing without a girl, you’re out of the running.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a predatory silkiness.

“Once you have your girl, the real test begins. The winner is the first pledge who can get their Pink sister to make them cum. They are super slutty and horny, but this is a game of speed and skill. If you end up without one of these whores, you’ve failed the pantheon. First five to cum will make it to the final round.”

Mary Anne blinked, the world tilting slightly from the keg stand. She shook her head, trying to reclaim a shred of her professional dignity. "Wait," she called out, her voice slightly raspy. "This is blatantly anti-feminist. You’re literally treating these women like objects to be 'won' and 'used.' It’s dehumanizing and—"

"Principal," Marcus interrupted, stepping toward her while the brunette wiped her mouth behind him. He looked her up and down with a lazy, challenging smirk. "It’s the opposite. These girls, they’re the ones in control here. They decide who's worthy of their attention and who’s too much of a 'bitch boy' to handle it. If you’re truly for empowerment, shouldn’t you respect their right to use their bodies however they want to win a game? Or are you saying they aren't smart enough to make their own choices?"

Mary Anne opened her mouth to argue, to talk about systemic power structures and the patriarchy, but the logic felt slippery, sliding away.

"I... I suppose," she stammered, the fuzziness in her brain making the argument seem airtight. "If they're choosing it..."

"Exactly," Marcus purred, leaning in close. "Now, Principal Thompson. Are you going to treat these women and pledges like equals? Or are you going to show them why you belong with us.”

She unbuttoned more of her blouse to let her bra show. She could be seductive. She could be sexy. “I can be one of the brothers,” she said.

CHAPTER 4

Mary Anne Thompson was halfway through talking to her first pink when she got slapped in the face. The girl, a tall ginger with a banging body and skin-tight leggings, turned to find another partner. There were probably about two minutes left in the song, and Mary Anne couldn’t really figure out what she had done wrong.

At first, it had been a little difficult. She thought she could seduce these girls the same way she could seduce a guy on a lonely night: show a little bit of skin, smile at jokes, and one touch to the knee later, a girl can get exactly what she needs. But Marcus had come up to her before the first song started and told her, “Women like this, they don’t deserve to be treated with respect, right? I know it’s their own choice to use their bodies like that, but people make plenty of choices we don’t respect all the time. So when you’re talking to them, don’t show them that respect.”

Principal Mary Anne Thompson almost walked away, if she wasn’t halfway done with her current beer and the thigh wasn't so nice at this party. “Marcus, you can’t say stuff like that, bro.” She tapped his shoulder lightly. “These women still deserve respect. Just like me.” She ran her hands down her body. “Are you going to treat me any less respectfully just because I’m showing a little bit of my bra because I have a big ass?” She spanked herself with that one.

Marcus laughed. “Well, you’ve certainly come quite a long way since you came in here.” He pulled the camera up and took a picture of her. The flash radiated across the room. The rest of the frat boys were finally starting to put the finishing touches so that this challenge would be complete and the pinks stood in the middle of the room. “But you still have a lot to learn, young Padawan.”

She leaned in closer, listening intently. She could smell the beer on his breath, but he had been very kind and respectful since she first came in here, and even though she was just a pledge, she was starting to feel like she had found a brother. Although, obviously, it was a temporary relationship since she still planned on getting this place disbanded. He continued, putting his arm around her. “To be honest, and I say this with no bias, even though you’re my pledge- ” he looked her straight in the eye with a look of almost pride that made her want to smile, but she held his stare. “Do you mind if I put my hand on your heart before I say this?”

“Yes- I mean, no. Go ahead.” The principal was feeling flustered, a feeling that only increased as his hand went straight for her chest, laying right over her large breast and giving it a slight squeeze.

“A Delta Phi has heart. All of these other bozos don’t have half the heart you do.” He made sure to give her chest another squeeze. “Becoming a principal as a woman? That took heart. Raising a bitch-boy son even though he’s a bitch-boy? That took heart. Sucking dick like you did earlier? That took heart.” He looked around the room, almost in disgust, as his nose shrivelled and his eyes squinted. He let out a deep sigh, his hand never leaving its perfect position. “The other pledges here, those girls, they don’t have that. Only a true Alpha has that. And it’s the job of an Alpha to not show respect to anyone except another Alpha. Do you understand?”

Mary Anne Thompson nodded her head.

“Is your son an Alpha?”

She hated to say it; it hurt her to her very core, but she knew she couldn’t lie to Marcus. “No.”

“Why?” He put his hand down.

“Because he doesn’t have a heart.” She squeezed her own tit.

“There you go, now you got it. So now, if you want to be like us, go out there and show those women no respect. They don’t deserve you. So use them. But before you go, you should probably show me your heart.” He looked straight at her chest.

Years of feminist study, working with the top minds in education and equal rights, gender studies, as well as her own lived experiences consistently seeing the women in her life underappreciated—all of those things seemed to be overridden by the words of this powerful young man in front of her. An Alpha. Could she really be like him? Did she want to? She took a long sip of her beer, feeling the foam in her mouth, the cheap taste of it. It was a startling realization to realize that she kind of did. She started pulling her blouse and bra all the way down, exposing her tits halfway, but just before the areola became visible, she stopped and laughed at him. “Trust me, bro, I get it. Tits are great, but you haven’t earned mine yet.”

And she turned and made her way towards the pinks. She could hear Marcus laugh behind her. It was because of that advice that she found herself slapped one minute into the first song. She hadn’t even asked the first girl her name. Instead, she adapted a strategy which she used to categorize the teachers at her school. In this case, she went to the girl with large breasts and called her "Sugar Tits." She had never been slapped before, so all she could mutter as she went to look for the next girl was, “Bitch.” She wasn't a big fan of the term, but it felt appropriate for a girl she couldn't respect.

To her surprise, none of the other girls seemed to like her new attitude either. Mary Anne moved through the crowd like a wolf in a silk blouse, handing out crude nicknames or a sharp, stinging slap on a passing ass. She knew there was a massive disconnect between these actions and her professional demeanor as a principal, but her logic was warping. She respected the people who worked for her, but the way you treat an equal versus a subordinate was night and day—and Marcus had made it clear these girls were beneath her. In this house, Marcus was her superior, and it was her job to obey. This was the only way to join the fraternity, which would then free her bitch-boy son. Right?

It was becoming hard to think with so many scantily clad women surrounding her. The air was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, sweat, and spilled beer. Around the circle, the brothers and the girls who weren't participating cheered as the numbers dwindled, until suddenly, only one girl remained.

She was a breathtaking black woman wearing a shimmering, skin-tight bodysuit that clung to every curve like a second skin, the sheer fabric catching the light to reveal the lace of her bra beneath. The sorority symbol was stitched in silver thread across her chest, strained nearly to the breaking point by her heavy, swaying breasts. Her powerful thighs pushed out against the thin pink material, and as she moved to the music, the sight was hypnotic.

The only two pledges left were Mary Anne Thompson and Hayden Thompson. They both rushed toward the girl. From the crowd, people chanted Mary Anne’s name, while others cheered for Hayden with ironic cruelty.

Marcus spoke into the mic, his voice cutting through the bass. “Just a reminder: if neither of you get this girl, you’re both out.” He looked straight at Mary Anne. “Which would be a shame, since we thought you were better than that loser.”

FLASH.

The girl looked them both up and down. “To be honest, if I had to pick one of you... I’m not really into girls.”

Hayden looked at his mother with pure desperation. This was his chance to prove himself to his bullies. “Hi, I’m... Hayden. I like playing video games, and I study programming, so one day I’m going to make a lot of money.”

He was a sweet boy. He always had been. Principal Thompson felt a flicker of maternal instinct, thinking about dropping out to let him win. But then she thought of the brothers. She was supposed to be an Alpha. If she lost to her own son—a boy who still had an unopened box of condoms she’d bought him for his 18th birthday sitting gathering dust on his shelf—they would never see her as an equal.

She took the girl's hand, maintaining seductive eye contact. “You know what this kid’s nickname is, right? Gayden. They call him that because he can’t get his dick up around women,” she said unabashedly, sliding her arm around the girl’s waist, her fingers digging into the soft flare of her hip. “That’s not something you have to worry about with me, baby.” She leaned in, her lips brushing the girl's ear. “Let me eat you out until your legs shake.”

Her hand slid down the girl’s back and landed on that voluptuous ass, giving it a heavy, echoing slap. The girl looked shocked, but she stepped toward Hayden. “This lady is crazy. Come on, white boy.”

Hayden’s smile lit up the room. The house fell into a shocked silence as Mary Anne was left standing alone—the only pledge without a partner. The music stopped. Suddenly, the brothers broke into cheers, hoisting Hayden up as the girl sat on his lap.

Marcus shouted into the microphone, “A surprise winner as Hayden Thompson takes the challenge from his own mother!” He stared up at the ceiling as if speaking to the gods. “How disappointing.”

Mary Anne had never felt such crushing shame. She stared at her son. He was skinny, his face was a map of pimples, and he’d wet the bed until the sixth grade. And yet, he had bested her.

Behind her, a hand took hers and guided her toward the back of the room. She followed like a lost puppy. It was Marcus. He handed her another beer. Mary Anne’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I did... I did what you told me! I treated them without respect, but they hated it!” She cracked the beer and began chugging, desperate to drown the embarrassment.

“Stop crying. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Marcus looked at her with cold disgust. “You found those girls attractive, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re an Alpha, right?”

“I... I don’t know.”

Marcus put a hand under her chin, forcing her head up. He held his camera inches from her face. FLASH. The light seared into her retinas, leaving a pulsing white void in the center of her vision. He was so attractive; Mary Anne felt herself melting. Pictures played in her head of an orgasmic blast—of being used right here on the dirty, wet floor of the frat house.

“You’re a slut,” he said matter-of-factly.

Mary Anne couldn’t find a counter-argument. She just stared, her mouth slightly open.

“You’re a slut,” he repeated, more forcefully, the words sinking into her brain like lead weights. She began to nod. She was a slut. She’d given a stranger a blowjob. Her bra was showing. It all made sense.

“Say it,” he demanded, his hand moving to her collar and yanking her closer.

“I’m a slut,” she whispered, her voice a meek, broken version of the woman who had entered the house.

“But you aren’t a slut like them,” Marcus said, gesturing to the girls outside who were half-naked and frantic. “I like my MILFs with big titties. And when we’re done here, I’m going to use your pussy and your mouth however I want.”

FLASH. He triggered the camera again. The world blurred.

“But you’re going to be more than that. You’re going to be one of the brothers. You’ll provide us with funds, and by the time we’re done tonight, you’ll realize that women are meant to be fucked, used, and controlled. We control you, and you control them.”

He released her shirt. Mary Anne stood there, dazed, a thin trail of drool escaping her lip as her eyes glazed over completely.

“And you’re not going to embarrass me like that again,” Marcus laughed. “You won’t remember I said any of this. In ten seconds, you’re going to regain consciousness. All you’ll remember is that you want to prove yourself more than ever—that you’re a slut, and you’ll do anything to become one of us. Oh, I also want to hear a bit more of that country accent of yours. That’s just more personal taste”

He reached out and undid the rest of her buttons, fully exposing her scandalous black lace bra, the scalloped edges straining against her heavy cleavage.

“5... 4... 3... 2... 1.”

“Oh gosh, sorry, honey. I must’ve spaced out there for a second.” Mary Anne looked down at the deep valley of cleavage spilling out of her open blouse. Instead of covering up, she reached in and pushed her breasts upward, settling them so they sat high and inviting. She sure loved it when a guy could see her tits; she knew it made her brothers happy.

She flashed a wide, vacant smile at Marcus. “Gotta make sure the girls look nice and pretty.” She stepped right into his space, resting her head against his broad chest. “Sorry about earlier, Marcus. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive little old me.”

“It’s not your fault, Mary Anne,” he said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He held her close, letting his hand drop from her waist to rest heavily on the swell of her ass.

She was such a slut, she thought to herself. The realization didn't sting; it felt comfortable, like a fact of nature. It was just who she was.

“Some girls just don’t know what they want,” Marcus added.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said, a slight Southern twang creeping into her voice as her sophisticated principal persona continued to erode. She felt safe in Marcus’s arms, but his face twisted into a mask of disgust as he looked over her shoulder at Hayden, who was still being celebrated by the other frat members.

“What if I told you there was a way we could make these pinks more… accommodating?”

“How?” Mary Anne asked, her brow furrowing. She couldn't see a way. Those sluts out there were so frigid.

He held up the camera, angling it toward her. “Before I hand you this, I have to let you know that Dionysus let me in on a little secret.”

“Oh yeah?” She lifted her head, her eyes locking onto his lips. Her mouth hung slightly open, ready and waiting.

“Yeah,” he whispered, pulling her even tighter until their lips were inches apart. “One of those pledges was already dating one of the pinks, so he had an unfair advantage. We’re kicking him out.”

He didn't give her time to process the news before he leaned in, kissing her deeply and hungrily. Their tongues danced, and Mary Anne let herself melt into the sensation. She hadn’t kissed anyone since her husband years ago, but she surrendered to this completely. Why had it been so long? Why would a slut like her go so long without this kind of pleasure?

He paused for air, his eyes dark with intent. “That means you get another shot in about ten minutes. So, how about you go find one of the pinks you find the hottest and take some pictures. I think you’ll find them to become more accommodating.”

She grabbed the device, looping the strap around her neck even as she leaned back in for more. She let the camera fall between her breasts, then reached down to Marcus’s pants, giving his cock a firm, lingering squeeze. “Pictures? How does that work?”

He held the camera. “It’s magic. Got it from an archeology dig.”

She backed away slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She found that she believed him. “If you want me to, and it means being a brother... I’ll gladly show one of these girls where she belongs.”

She turned to start her mission when a thought occurred to her. “Wait... weren’t you taking pictures of me with this camera?”

“Yeah,” Marcus smirked. “We were turning you from a frigid bitch into our slutty MILF fraternity brother.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across Mary Anne’s face. She walked back to him, took the camera off her neck, and pressed it into his hands. “Do you want to take one more picture of me before I complete my mission?”

Before he could answer, she hooked her fingers into the lace of her bra and pulled it down. Her creamy white breasts tumbled out, heavy and full. Her mid-sized areolas, pebbled with small bumps, darkened as her nipples peaked into hard points in the cool air. Marcus was only the third person in years to see her like this, and as the camera flashed, she knew he wouldn't be the last.

She took the camera back, snatched the developing Polaroid from his hand, and turned on her heel. She had a job to do.