Carrot and Stic

Hello, and thanks for reading!

This is my first ever co-written story, and wouldn't have been possible without the help and hard work of DeetsandDoots, my writing partner for this project. I'd like to sincerely thank Deets for bringing this story from concept to life. This series is planned to be roughly ten parts of a size similar to this, although only about half of that is rough drafted so far, so it may stretch a little longer in the end.

I hope you enjoy!

Rabblelaid

Hello reader!

This is DeetsandDoots, co-author of Carrot & Stick. About six months ago, I approached RabbleLaid applauding their work in their terrific series "Hottie In The Mirror". In particular, I expressed an appreciation for the inimitably charming side antagonist, Hailey Grey. At the risk of spoiling a future project, Rabble shared with me an intriguing idea for a one-off short spin-off of Hailey's adventures titled Carrot & Stick. I was instantly invested. Soon we were throwing back and forth ideas, and what that eventually blossomed into this full story.

It's a little romance, a little domination, and a lot of fun. It takes place in the same universe and at the same time as Hottie in the Mirror, but you don't need to have read that one to enjoy this one. But if you have, you might notice some familiar faces and a couple of easter eggs throughout that we hope you'll find amusing.

I want to give the biggest shout out possible to Rabble. They have been an absolutely incredible collaborator this entire process. If you ever work with someone on a creative project, you dream of having someone as thoughtful, generous, and hardworking as Rabble. They are the real deal and one of the best working writers I know. Thanks Rabble!

Anyway, we sincerely hope you enjoy this first installment of our tale of a tryst. This is Carrot and Stick.

DeetsandDoots

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Prologue: Risk and Reflection

In the story of his own life, Caleb was a background character. A nobody from day one, so unremarkable in appearance and temperament he almost became remarkable once again. And even Caleb himself noticed it on the odd occasion he found himself looking in a mirror.

The sight of himself made a grimace of distaste spread across his face. Not because he looked bad; He wasn't ugly, stood at an average height, and his build was somewhere between slim and muscular. His hair was dust bunny brown and his eyes, for what it was worth, were grey-blue, though one might not be able to tell from behind the glare of his wayfarers. Nothing to write home about, but not exactly off-putting either.

No, that was the whole issue. Average, unremarkable, and utterly boring. That was the inescapable impression that Caleb got when he saw himself in the mirror. He would say he gave other people that impression as well, but Caleb thought that he probably didn't give other people any impression at all.

People's eyes tended to gloss right over him.

Caleb had spent his four years of high school fading into the background. Not rocking the boat, not making waves. He dated no one, mostly because he was too chickenshit to ask. By the time Caleb realized his averageness problem, it felt too late to fix it. Everyone already saw him as a forgettable, inoffensive shadow fading into the background. Even among his clique of nerds, geeks, dweebs, and dorks, he was the quiet one.

But tonight, all that was about to change. Tomlin University, home of the Philadelphia Fighting Beavers, now housed a new brave mammal, and his name was Caleb. TU was the perfect chance to reinvent himself. In this completely new city, with a completely new social scene, Caleb didn't have to be a boring wallflower anymore. He was determined to make some big, splashy moves: to be the kind of person who made others sit up and take notice. Despite his determination, Caleb hadn't had much of a chance to be his new improved self in the first couple weeks: most of his time had been devoted to orientation activities, getting settled in his dorm, and starting classes.

In the mirror, Caleb's mouth hardened into a firm line of determination, and he gave himself a steely-eyed nod. Tonight he was going to join the Birchwood Society, the most elite and prestigious frat on campus. Only exceptional people were allowed in. Membership was an instant pathway to popularity, an automatic pass to the best parties on campus, and, maybe most importantly, a magnet for female attention. Still looking at the same average face that stared back at him day after day, Caleb, through his mind's eye, sculpted himself into that man. The man who was definitely getting into a frat tonight. He envisioned that unassailable confidence and savoir-faire, the posture of a winner. His forehead felt sweaty, his hair felt greasy, and his cologne smelt stronger than it should've.

The sculpture in the mirror looked as if it was melting.

Nevertheless, Caleb took a breath, slammed the door behind him, and hustled out into the cool fall evening, pulling his hood up over his head as he strode across campus. Tonight was the night he would kill Boring Caleb and let Caleb the Man take his place.

...

Boring Caleb stood in line with the other hopeful freshmen on the back lawn of the frat house, his pulse drumming in his ears. He had heard that Birchwood Society hazing could get a little intense, so he tried to mentally prepare himself for anything. Caleb was, generously speaking, risk-avoidant. Non-generously speaking, he was a coward who shied away from any form of danger or conflict he was confronted with. One time in the seventh grade, a bully told him that he'd be waiting for him on the bus, so Caleb walked home. Caleb hated the butterflies in his stomach that risk caused. But, again, Caleb reminded himself, these were the anxieties of Boring Caleb, whom he would be murdering tonight. Caleb the Man, he assured himself, had none of the same fears.

He didn't have to assure himself for long. Just a few minutes after he arrived, the back door of the frat burst open and a loud, laughing knot of burly frat guys spilled out of the back door, making their way across the lawn toward the nervous freshmen.

"Hey, Redlin, what do you think about the crop of rushes this year?" hollered a tall, square-jawed brother who seemed to be in charge as the cluster of frat brothers came to a halt facing the line of hopeful pledges.

"I think they look like shit, president!" said a short, bored-looking man, smirking at the assembled freshmen with barely concealed disdain. Caleb looked through the crowd of frat bros, searching for Chuck, the one who had invited him here tonight. There he was, tall, big, and broad, with a shaggy mop of golden curls spilling down his head, stopping just past the end of a new, poorly maintained goatee. Chuck caught Caleb's eye and shot him a grin and a wink.

It felt good to have an ally in this tense situation, if only in spirit. Caleb was fairly sure that Chuck wouldn't actually be allowed to help him through the hazing in any way, but it was nice to see his buddy standing there with that big goofy grin on his face.

Caleb realized he had been tuning out what the frat president was saying, and turned with focus back to the tall square-jawed brother just in time to hear him launch into a self-important speech.

"OK, listen up, losers. If any of you end up making it into The Society, it will be because we trust you. Trusting your brothers is the key to our whole organization. But right now I trust you freshies about as far as I can fucking throw you. I don't fucking know you. I don't know who the fuck you are! Alright?!" Redlin motioned for him to reel it in. The tall, brother, coughed and spit onto the front lawn. " Excuse me. So, until you can build some trust, you are going to have to get by on blind obedience. That's rule number one while you are rushing. A brother of the Birchwood Society tells you to do something, you do it immediately, with no questions. Understand?"

Blind obedience... the thought felt odd as Caleb rolled it around his head. Caleb could do that. He had always felt most comfortable when he knew exactly what others expected of him. But he wasn't sure if that fit with his idea of "Caleb the Man". Shouldn't a real man make his own decisions and take charge? Well... regardless of how he felt about being a leader or a follower in general, right now it seemed like he had little choice. It was either follow directions or not join the frat.

Caleb mumbled his agreement along with the rest of the hopeful freshman, then yelled "Yes, President!" when their sloppy response was corrected by a barking frat brother. It looked like expectations were high, but Caleb was determined to meet them.

Right up until the president dropped a bomb on him: "Like I said, to trust you little fucks, we are going to have to get to know you better. And we're going to start tonight," said the tall man with cruel twist of his lip. "I want to get to know all of you with all the outer fake bullshit stripped away. So strip. Clothes off, balls out."

The silence was deafening as the assembled freshmen looked sidelong at one another in shock. Would they actually strip to join this frat?

Yeah. They would. First one, then another of the boys in the line began shrugging clothes off or unbuttoning their pants. Caleb only stood in a wide-eyed panic, his mind frozen in disbelief. Get naked? Here, in public, on the back lawn of the frat house?! With a bunch of other dudes watching? His eyes flashed to Chuck, who gave an apologetic smile a little half-shrug.

This was the price of admission, Caleb told himself. If he ever wanted to be somebody, he had to be willing to take some risks. He had to do this. He had to face his anxieties and his fears and transcend them if he wanted to become that sculpture in the mirror. He desperately wanted to become Caleb the Man. So what if this was what he had to do? Boring Caleb would have shrunk back from this and given up, but Caleb the Man could totally do this.

Caleb took a deep breath, placed his hand on the button of his jeans... and unbuttoned. Then a sharp pang of anxiety. And of risk. He rebuttoned. That was it. He couldn't do it. No. Not at all. With a burning feeling of shameful inadequacy, Caleb utterly, shamefully chickened out. There was no Caleb the Man, there was only Boring Caleb.

By the time the bearded frat brother yelled that all remaining freshmen still clothed were disqualified, Caleb was already walking away, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his hood drawn down to hide his burning face. The walk home was quiet and dark and sad and boring.

He hadn't even been able to look Chuck in the eyes as he left, and when he got back to his dorm, he avoided his own eyes in the mirror as well. He was too afraid that he would see staring back at him the exact thing he feared: a nobody.

...

"Hey buddy, for real," said Chuck around a big mouthful of pizza, his big blue eyes shining with sincerity, "DON'T feel bad. The Greek life isn't for everyone! And it's not the only way to have fun on campus either. Besides, if getting naked on the frat house lawn was too much for you, it was better for you to quit right then. The initiation gets fucking nuts, dude!"

Caleb smiled, trying to put as much warmth into it as possible despite not really feeling it. It didn't exactly help his mood to be told that he had tripped at the first and easiest hurdle for frat initiation, and feeling like he was a charity case wasn't ideal either.

But despite that, he did feel a great deal of gratitude toward Chuck, who had gone massively out of his way for someone, who, in the end, was just an acquaintance. They had known each other in high school, at least a little. Chuck knew everyone in high school. He had been a starting Tight End on the football team, and the kind of jock that makes a point of being nice to everyone, even unwashed losers like Caleb. He was a good guy, and once he had found out that Caleb and he shared a passion for MMA, would make a point to stop in the halls and chat about it every once in a while.

So they hadn't been best friends. But Chuck was such a good dude that when Caleb found out that the lovable jock was going to TU too, he felt like it was the right thing to do to drop the big guy a line.

The rest was history. Chuck, sweetheart that he was, insisted they grab lunch to catch up, Caleb mentioned in passing that he wanted to put himself out there more in college, and Chuck invited him to pledge for the Birchwood Society, where he was a member. It was just too bad that it hadn't worked out. When Chuck invited him out to another lunch to debrief, Caleb had considered saying no, but in the end he just couldn't be that cold to such a nice guy.

"Yeah, I know," said Caleb, holding back a sigh. "It's not the end of the world. I mean, if I'm being honest, belonging to a frat wasn't exactly my dream anyway. It just sounded like an easy way to be popular and get girls. I guess I'll have to do that the hard way! But I do appreciate you inviting me though."

Chuck gave him a thoughtful look, chewing on another mouthful of pizza with his eyebrows furrowed. Finally, he chugged a half-glass of cola and swallowed heavily. "Well, buddy," he said decisively, clapping Caleb's shoulder with a greasy hand, "If I could wave my hand and make you a frat brother, I would. But since I can't, I can do the next best thing."

His eyes gleamed with good-natured enthusiasm as he leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, "The Ladies of the Grove, our sister sorority, is throwing a black light party this Friday. It's invitation-only, but outside invites are allowed, and you're going to be my plus one." Chuck shook Caleb's shoulder in a powerful grip, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Trust me, bro, if you want to be popular this is where you need to be. The coolest kids on campus, Greek or not, will be there. Perfect place to make an impression. And girls?" Chuck rolled his eyes as if overwhelmed by the prospect of how many ladies would be in attendance. "Fucking forget about it, Bro. The hottest chicks on campus. It's one of those parties where you're supposed to paint on each other with neon paint and, well, let's just say that the sorority girls usually don't want too many clothes getting in the way when they use their skin as a canvas."

"Wow," said Caleb, his eyes lighting up at the possibility. "But, I guess... I'm just a random freshman at my first party. Do you really think that I can hang with that kind of crowd?"

Chuck gave a big booming laugh and pointed a questioning finger at Caleb. "You tell me! I thought the whole point was that you were trying to be the kind of guy that can!"

Caleb found himself smiling back at Chuck's infectious positive energy. The big guy wasn't wrong.

...

Chapter 1: Paint & Peer Pressure

The wall that Caleb leaned against beat like a heart in the cavernous, neon-bright depths of the packed sorority hall. He tried his best to look and feel like he wasn't in over his head. Chuck had said hello to him at the beginning of the party, but had soon been pulled away by friends to join a flip-cup game in some nearby room that Caleb had no idea how to find. As much as Caleb was sorry to see the one person he knew disappear into the sea of strangers, he understood. He wouldn't want to drag Chuck down after the guy had done so many favors for him.

All around Caleb, older, more confident people squeezed through the artery halls, drinks in hand. Somehow, all of the guys looked like Greek statues. Shirtless, well-muscled and filled with smirking, arrogant confidence. And the girls... well, even Chuck's hyperbolic description, had failed to do the girls justice. Strutting confidently through the party in towering high heels, often wearing not much more than a bra and panties, the sisters of the Ladies of the Grove were poised, sexy, and felt as distant from Caleb as the moon. Caleb looked at the glowing swirls and handprints painted on their bare skin with envy. Someone must have been brave enough to engage with these beautiful, confident creatures and fingerpaint their feminine curves. Probably the smug, swaggering frat bros. Caleb wasn't sure how he would even go about asking.

Caleb knew intellectually that there had to be average people at the party. The place was packed after all: The beautiful elite had to be a tiny minority. But all of the little people like Caleb faded into the background. The sorority sisters and their male counterparts were the undisputed stars of the show. Caleb was here, a mammal among Gods.

Caleb shook himself and tried to focus. He couldn't just mope all night. The whole point of going to the party in the first place was to be confident and push himself. He squared his shoulders and looked for an opportunity. His eyes fixed on one of the beautiful sorority sisters across the room: a bubbly-looking Asian girl with her onyx hair up in loose pigtails. She was currently giggling as a confident, shirtless frat brother painted a sun in bright neon orange onto her flat, sexy exposed tummy. That might be an opening. The girl was still unbelievably, intimidatingly gorgeous, but she had a certain kindness in her eyes that a lot of the other aloof girls didn't, and Caleb got the impression that even if she had no interest, this girl wouldn't ruin his night by being cruel about it.

But as the mammal made his way across the crowded living room, he was disappointed to see that he wasn't the only one who thought this sister looked easy to approach. By the time he made it halfway, the now cackling Asian had been surrounded by a gaggle of guys eager to paint her and was looking around at the circle of surrounding boys with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Caleb stopped with a sigh, taking a sip of his drink. Joining the desperate male scrum had no appeal. Then, his eyes focused on another girl. She clearly wasn't one of the sorority sisters. She was wearing too much, for one, clad in modest gym shorts and a graphic tee with a pink bear from an obscure anime that Caleb vaguely recognized. She lacked the same air of mystery and superiority. But she was cute, and she was by herself, swaying to the pervasive music with a drink in hand, looking a little bored.

Well, swinging for the fences would be chatting up one of the sorority hotties, but Caleb knew an opportunity when he saw one. Besides, maybe it was better to ease himself into the confident lifestyle.

"Hey!" shouted Caleb over the music with what he hoped was a winning smile. "I-I uh like your shirt. It's cool." The words managed to bubble out of his lips.

The girl gave him a weighing glance, but he seemed to pass the test because she smiled and yelled "Thanks, I got it at Cosmic-Con!" A start. Caleb was woefully inexperienced as a flirt. It simply wasn't in his nature up until this point. But in this moment, something clicked in the young man's mind. He had opened up. And suddenly, and almost without thinking, flirtation simply flowed out of him.

"It looks really good on you." He pulled out the tube of bright blue paint that he had been handed at the door. "I saw you didn't have any paint yet! I don't either! I'll draw something on you if you return the favor!" Green light danced over her head "That sounds perfect." And so, they began painting and talking.

Her name was Leah: sophomore, English major, a fan of anime, green eyes. The fact that she was older was a little intimidating to Caleb. But the fact that this was her first major party made him feel a little better. It seemed like she was usually just as withdrawn as Caleb.

They made spirited small talk about their majors and hometowns. Her from the suburbs of Baltimore. He from the suburbs of Cleveland. Caleb knew enough about literature to have a spirited discussion about their favorite books, and before long, Leah's eyes were shining and her finger strokes that painted his skin became deeper and lingered longer. She was interested in him, and that very fact was enough to make his heart pound rapidly in his chest. Someone was interested in him. And this was his first time flirting. Was he, he thought, some sort of flirting savant?