This is the story of how 19 year old Caleb Jensen found himself in the sexual predicament of a lifetime.
It was the fall rush season and Caleb had been accepted as a pledge at the USC frat of his choice: Tau Kappa Epsilon.
Their off-campus reputation was legendary and they threw incredible parties that people talked about for weeks. The girls that attended these parties were high-flying sorority vixens that were well on their way to bigger and better things (or just living off of the success of their parents). Either way, the alcohol was always flowing and the vibe was always incredibly well tailored to the modernized Greek mythos of balls-to-the-wallogy.
Caleb had grown up in a fairly liberal house, and his parents were comfortable upper middle income proper. This meant he had at least a couple of years to fuck around before deciding what he actually wanted to do with his life.
All that he wanted to do at the moment, was to let loose a bit. Plenty of AP classes and sports schedules and school activities had actually ensured that part of his tuition would be covered by scholarship, so he didn't feel like he was totally leeching off the old parental units.
Even still, there was just no reason to declare right away. All he wanted to declare was "CANNONBALL!" as he jumped into pools and "FUCKKKK" as he jumped into pussies.
He didn't want to worry about having 6 classes and five days of school. He wanted Tuesday/Thursday classes and a crash-course in dorm room hallway luge bowling.
There were twenty, twinkling new pledges that were well on their way to gaining all the lusty luxury that came with the full-time status of this storied frat house. They handled their academic shit while still dipping into life's more legally questionable activities. Or at least, that's what it felt like when Caleb saw the mascot head of the Stanford Tree proudly displayed above the common area fireplace mantle, in the main house.
The chapter maintained just over a hundred members, not including the twenty pledges still vying for permanence. But of these, only twenty upper classmen actually lived in the house year round, spread out over its many shared bedrooms. The president and vice president both enjoyed their own rooms looking over the giant pool and spa in the tropically chic backyard.
This was a house built on brotherhood and killer parties. There was no need for irony here—they knew who they were and they leaned into their stereotypes. They shared a sister sorority with girls straight out of a pillow fight porno, and their themed parties were the stuff of Snapchat gold.
That's where everything would become very interesting for Caleb.
It was the annual Fall Halloween Party held by TKE and for once the holiday actually fell on a Friday. It was perfect. Two days for allowing all of the sins of college to properly wear off before they were back to their business and law classes.
This year's party theme was a bold, if also somewhat open-ended choice:
'Sandals and Swordfights and Witches and Monsters.'
That meant, as one overly stoned party planner pitched it to his fellow brothers some weeks prior, if it existed in the recent HBO, Middle Earth, Bible, Roman Gladiator, Jedi, Hogwarts, Hunger Games world of cosplay that they'd all generally grown up around, you'd probably see your favorite character dressed up as a slightly cheaper (and definitely sluttier) version of what you had nostalgically fallen in love with.
The pledges were still completing their last month of dedicated bitch work and on-campus hijinks, but for this party at least, other than next-day cleaning duties, they were allowed to relax and dress up and bring a date or two if they wanted.
It was the seniors that handled party setup. There was a reputation to uphold and such was the duty of such sacred torch-passing.
Two popular local DJ's were hired. The kegs were locked and loaded in a Rube Goldberg type slide that came from an upstairs window like a gravity bullet belt to a downstairs drink station/bar.
Caleb had decided on an oldie but a goodie for his outfit—William Wallace was an easy costume shop visit away. When the night had finally arrived, he got dressed and did a final mirror checklist inspection. He was decked out in his leather skirt, fake-muscled breastplate, tan robe, red cape, and Rainbow sandals. This completed the "I care, but not too much" look that any self-respecting college frat guy strived for. He painted half of his face appropriately blue and then made final body inspections to make sure he smelled all kinds of good should he happen to run into a particularly horny Zelda or krunked prisoner Leia. He completed the look by rubbing a bunch of tanning oil onto his legs and chest and arms so he'd look like he was sweating in the middle of a skirmish.
Those Gladiator scenes were a baby oil extravaganza and you had to commit to the look.
He had short, brown hair with a recent fade but decided against a crappy wig because he did still want to get laid, after all.
Lastly, the skirt was long enough that he decided not to wear boxers. If girls could go commando in their costumes then so could he. He was definitely enjoying being away from home for the first time ever and ballsy decisions just seemed to come easier these days.
Caleb was a good-looking guy with high school soccer to thank for his consistent muscle mass. He was 5'10 and had short dirty blonde hair that went well with his orange county freckles. He'd be a well-trained skirt-slayer by the time he was a junior, right now though, he was still figuring out his swagger and go-to lines.
Unfortunately, when he got to the frat house with the other Pledges around 8:00 PM to help with any last minute details, a fork would be firmly planted in his road.
The frat president was a demigod of party prowess named Lane Thompson who generally looked like he had just stepped directly out of an Abercrombie catalogue and then been handed the keys to the house.
He was 22 and he'd be attending Princeton Law when he was done with his last year, and it wasn't because of Nepotism. Lane knew his shit.
The stories and rumors that surrounded him were so vast that he had his own on-campus subreddit.
Lane was known for leading numerous ladies back to his room at the end of the night, which included a recent back-to-school party where he was seen playing a game of Twister with three sorority girls who apparently were all very interested in being the most flexible competitor on his eventual bedroom floor. And as witnesses would later confirm, it had ended in a three-way tie.
