Impregnated by Frat Bros

expect, just wishing you luck.

You pace across the room engulfed in electronic beats and cozy in your ******* haze.

One of the night's stipulations?

No refusing a drink when offered.

You hardly even look to see who's handed them to you at this point, but you could have sworn

the last guy who handed you a cup wasn't part of the house.

In fact, you find yourself lost in thought trying to place his face as you sip down the

fizzy beer.

The music is a bit quieter in the kitchen where you just entered and you overhear one

of the guys asking why that rejected pledge was here.

You're lucky enough to avoid any more drinks for the next couple hours so that when the

music is turned off and the guests are escorted out, you feel lucid enough for your ceremony.

Your hands and feet are bound and your vision is obscured by a handkerchief.

One of the burly seniors throws you over his shoulder and the group climbs the stairs to

the attic.

You wait patiently and anxiously as you sit on the wooden floor hearing the sounds of

...