Fraternity Diaper: Part IV

CWIS'S NOTE: I have edited this for clarity, but not much for content. With the exception of changing or removing some names, everything you're about to read was submitted by a friend of mine, a recent graduate of the University of Buffalo now living in Rochester, NY. He's not an AB, but he's done a little abysitting. He also wore a diaper for a weekend, which is what this two-part story is about. Enjoy...

FRATERNITY DIAPER: PART III

Diapers have always been a part of the [EDITED] 'hell week' culture. Since the 1980s, anyway, and probably before that.

In the past a lot of other humiliating shit was included, too. The usuals: paddling, exercising until you puke, drinking games. But at some point in the years before I joined a real focus on alcoholic unsafe activities fell on the frats, and Greek life would never be the same.

As a result, at [EDITED] College, hazing (sorry, pledging) changed; gone were the inebriated life-threatening activities, with humiliation almost all that was left.

At my house, in fact, pledges didn't even drink during hell weekend. Alcohol, anyway.

At some point, years before, it had been decided that it would be more enjoyable for the rest of the brotherhood to allow the brothers to drink, but keep the pledges totally sober. Alcohol, after all, would do little more than lower their awareness of the humiliation they were going through. Let everyone else loosen up and enjoy it. Everyone but the ones wearing diapers.

Diapers, as I said, had been a part of our activities for twenty or thirty years.

Nobody knew how it started. But there was an awareness of diaper fetish in our activities. Someone must have had one at one point. Or maybe they just figured there is nothing more humiliating than wearing a diaper. Whatever the reason, our activities in diapers weren't secret; our frat actually had a nickname around campus, with DIAPA being inserted in place of [PART OF OUR NAME].

Other fraternities had other humiliating activities as part of their hell weeks. Some were even rumored to include diaperes. Dog cages was said to be a big part of one house, with naked brothers with tails being forced to crawl in circles, nose-to-ass, until everyone fell over in a state of drunken dizziness. Inside the cages, there were rumors that they were subjected to being forced to drink beer poured from overhead. There were also rumors that some were peed on.

Rumors.

Most of the other frats kept their activities secret, out of fear of being found out and closed down or out of tradition. My house's tradition was to publicly humiliate its potential members. The idea? You have to get down and dirty (pardon the pun) to belong to the best house on campus. That our brothers will go through anything to be a part of the greatness, no matter who sees it.

Now all I had to do was not take a dump all night...

The party was invitation-only, but a lot of people were invited.

Not including brothers and pledges, there would be more than 200 people coming.

Invitations were mostly done by word-of-mouth, but unlike a lot of frat parties which include everyone who finds out about the time and place, ours had that intimidation factor; most people on campus wouldn't show up if they weren't personally invited by a member. You just didn't mess with [EDITED].

Two people were assigned to the porch. Their job was to stand outside the front door - diapers only - and welcome people. My job was to stand at one side of the stairwell in the foyer and offer to take coats, hanging them in the closet to my left. Another pledge stood at the entrance to the dining area, welcoming people through. The remainder were tasked with serving drinks. Walking around in their diapers, bringing people beer or other drinks and cleaning up the room.

In addition to performing our tasks, we also had to not go to the bathroom. And, as we did, one by one, we were ordered to raise our hands until a brother came to us, and report our position. On the back of our diapers a magic marker would be used to put our numbers. There was already a #2, a #12, and a #13. (Number 13 had decided to return to the house, stench of poop at all, and take his place on the other side of the stairs by the kitchen, scowling the whole while. I guess he figured #13 was better than #1 in the dorms...

The party would last four, five hours tops. I wasn't sure what would happen after; would we be allowed to sleep after the cleanup? Would someone sit and watch us in our beds to make sure the count was kept? Would we be forced to do wall sits all night - another frat's party activities, according to lore? I wondered what was in store for us. The worry was worse than the humiliation.

Guests began trickling in, and I felt my face grow red. And stay that color. I saw people I go to class with, and people I see across campus. The guy who gave me my campus tour came in, and told me he was glad that I'd decided to come to college there. He looked down at my diaper, back up at me, and laughed.

"Good choice," he told me. "Good house. Hope you make it."

Me too...

I intently watched the asses of every other pledge that I could see.

I was looking for brown. Or bulging.

I was looking for shit.

I felt pretty self-conscious about checking other guys butts out, but this was going to be determining my life for the next four years. If someone was gonna try to sneak a shit, I wanted to make sure it was made known. I wasn't sure of the protocol, but they had told us that anyone who didn't raise their hand and self-report having pooped would be punished. I hoped everyone would be honest.

I'd used the bathroom just before coming down, so I didn't have to go.

Others hadn't been so lucky. I wanted Brent, another pledge, start to walk funny. It was obvious he had to go. An hour into the exercise, our boy's diaper was soaked. He looked embarrassed, and I felt satisfied. But when he turned around I checked out his ass. DRATS! Nothing back there but a little wetness. This could go on all night...

The brothers, though, had other ideas.

At 10:00 p.m. they began walking around ushering everyone into the foyer. After a while more than 100 people were standing in all corners, including on nearly every step of the spiral staircase. I stood there, in my diaper, feeling very much the center of attention. Humiliation? Yeah. Soon every other pledge had joined me, including #2, #13, #12, and #11 - yeah, someone had gone poopy in the first hour of the partyyy - so I wasn't alone.

It was announced that we'd be playing a game. A drinking game. I hadn't been expecting this, but I was ready - a beer would taste good right about now, even if I'd have to work harder to avoid pissing myself after. At least you didn't lose rank for pissing.

The game instructions were announced, and it seemed simple: each pledge would get down on his hands and knees and race around the house; as we rounded the last corner we'd grab a cup off of the table and drink.

Brothers began walking in with the cups. The first few were little; a shot glass, an orange juice glass, and a cocktail glass. The next three were bigger: a wine glass, a goblet, and a beer mug. The last few were bigger, and I laughed when I saw a 'Big Gulp' among them. There were only eleven cups.

Then Spenser walked in with a pitcher full of - vodka? The liquid was clear, and I began to worry. Drinking a Big Gulp of straight vodka wasn't smart. It could be deadly. I hoped that they'd mixed it with something...

"What is that?!" one guest asked, and a murmur of laughter was heard among the room.

"Water," Spenser replied.

"Just water?" another guest asked.

"Just water. Special water. Imported straight from Mexico."

Much laughter, now.

I thought about that. I'd been to Mexico in high school. Don't drink the water was the warning everyone who'd ever been had given before we left, and they were right; anyone dumb enough to drink from a tap came down with a wild case of dysentery. And spent the rest of their trip on the can. Not cool.

"Imported water, gentlemen," Spenser announced to laughter. "We would have given you beer but... well, that could be bad for your health. We love you guys..."

Wild laughter now.

With that he took the pitcher and began pouring it cup to cup. First the shot glass. Then the drinking glass. After he'd filled up every cup he set the pitcher down on the table. They were all set up in a line...

"Three times around the house on your stomachs. If a brother stops you and asks a question about the house you must answer correctly. If you do not you'll be held for thirty seconds. Once you've made it to the table you grab the cup you want. First person to the table doesn't get a cup at all. Any questions?"

"No, sir!"

"Line UP..."

With that thirteen little unworthy diapers lined up in a row. Guests began moving around to make way. The route would be from the foyer into the living room, down a hallway, into the den, down another hallway, into the kitchen, through the dining room, and back to the foyer. Three times.

"GO!"

I began crawling like crazy. Within seconds we were all told to stop and back up to the line; someone had thought hands-and-knees crawling was OK. Um, no. I heard a wack, and realized someone had just gotten his butt spanked. Haha! Then it was time to start again.

More crawling like crazy. Down the first hallway I found myself with my face in the stinky diaper of another dude, trying to pass by him but unable to... he was fast. I wondered if people practiced for this? I hadn't heard anything about it until now. All along the way partygoers cheered us on - and smacked us on our asses. By my first time around I felt my buttcheeks growing very sore. Was that even in the rules?

Midway through the second round I found myself stopped by a foot on my back. I was in second place, and I looked up to see Spenser standing above me.

"What year was our house opened?" he asked me. I thought for a minute; the frat had opened in one year, but the house itself had been built another. Which answer did he want? Lyle, another pledge, motored past me and I realized I was losing ground.

"Sir! The house was built in [EDITED],which was eight years after the chapter was founded, SIR!"

"Nice job. Please continue."

I did, and in round three I passed Lyle. He was on his stomach, another pledge's foot on his back, and he was angrily arguing an answer. Awwww... bye!

I crawled to the table in round three. I was in third place. I grabbed the OJ glass - the shot glass was taken, the the OJ glass seemed narrower than the one in between them - and waited. Pledges rounded the corner and grabbed cups, one by one.

The seventh dude rounded the corner, panting, and grabbed the pitcher. We all looked at each other in shock, and then back at him.

"I'm thirsty as FUCK, guys!" he explained. "They haven't given us anything to drink all night! I'm getting the most water." He looked at dude on my left, holding the shot glass, and laughed.

"I'd take a smaller glass," the kid said. The pledge with the pitcher rolled his eyes.

"You did," he answered. Just then we were ordered to be silent, which we did.

When everyone had finished it was time to drink. Shot glass boy threw his back, and pitcher boy took nice, long, rewarding gulps. I drank my cup slowly, unsurely. After we'd all finished Spenser had an announcement to make.

"Would everyone like to know the secret ingredient of this delicious beverage?" he asked, and everyone at the party said yessssss in unison. He laughed. "Let's just say we attend a college that's known for its Lax team. I'll say no more!"

Clapping. Pitcher kid looked white as a ghost, and I saw him start to hold his stomach. Shot glass boy fist pumped. And it was back to our stations.

The next thirty minutes was probably hilarious for everyone but the pledges. One by one pledges started standing funny. Those serving drinks stopped walking and started standing. One pledge has both hands on his buttcheeks, as if he was trying to hold them together to prevent himself from going. It was getting crazy...

"Number 10!" I looked around and watched a magic marker number get applied to the pitcher kid's ass. He looked so embarrassed. What a dumb fuck! He'd drank so much ex-Lax. Seriously?

Suddenly I heard my own stomach start to make noises. I didn't think I had to shit, but my body was telling me differently. Slowly it became clear that I was going to be going. Damn! my plan was going to be spoiled. I'd be stuck with a shitty room, and a shitty roommate. All because I was a little slow to crawl...

"Number 9!"

Another pledge was getting marked up. And, within a minute, numbers 8, 7, and 6 were marked as well. There were just four spots left to be contested, and I was in the middle of it.

I began to clench my cheeks, trying to hold it in. My stomach was RAWRing now, and its contents wanted to come out. I wondered if this was all happening in the order of cup size. I noticed that #13 was shitting again, and I thought about the horror of having already shit in your diaper only to have to go again. That sucks.

"Number 5!"

Suddenly, I couldn't wait anymore. I found myself shitting. BAM! It just came out. I considered not reporting it, but noticed a brother staring at me. I raised my hand and he walked over and wrote what I assumed was a "4" across my diaper.

"Good choice," he told me.

I nodded.

The rest of the party was humiliating.

Wearing a diaper had seemed bad. But wearing a shitty diaper? You have no idea.

(Well, maybe you do?)

If you haven't done it before, shit in your pants someplace. A park, the mall, wherever. Then wait.

Your awareness of your surroundings is magnified. It's amazing. It's like the scene in the movies where the hero finds himself in a strange city and knows someone is going to kill him; they show the hero standing there noticing everyone around him, wondering if they may be the killer. You notice everyone. You become super-aware. And you wonder if everyone around you is smelling shit, whether they're laughing at you... feeling pity for you. It's a very uncomfortable position to be in.

The party was winding down and the cleanup was starting. Three spots were left: 1 and 3. I was satisifed with #4: I'd wanted to be 1-3, but maybe someone would drop out... there was always hope. My room would be cool and I'd get first pick of chores.

But #1 and #3 were pretty different spots, and it was pretty clear that neither dude was ready to relinquish victory. We were dealing with shot glass boy and the winner who hadn't had to drink at all. One had had no ex-Lax; the other just a tiny bit. And both looked completely comfortable.

After all of the guests had filed out and everything had been cleaned up, we were all brought into the foyer.

"Gentlemen, meet your leadership!" a brother announced. Pledges one, two, and three were ordered to come together, and then - to everyone's surprise -invited into the formal living room. They left the foyer and the rest of us looked at each other. I felt robbed - that had almost been me - but then I looked at pledge #13. He'd sat in fecal matter all night, and he'd thought he had the perfect plan to be #1. I realized I didn't have much to complain about.

Pillows were thrown down the stairs, and we were each ordered to grab one. We would sleep in the foyer for the night - on the cold, hard floor. The room was beginning to reek of piss and shit, and I realized I wouldn't be sleeping much. The plan was simple: wait for the next pledge to poop, and then it was all over; our numbers had been assigned and our positions in the house would be final.

"Anyone who removes their diaper before the last person has filled it won't be a member of this house anymore," Spenser announced as 1, 2, and 3 returned. We were all laying around, now, heads on pillows. A brother pulled up a chair and set it, facing us, taking a seat; I realized we'd be watched all night.

A few brothers walked in with huge glasses of water, setting them down next to each of us, snickering.

"No ex-Lax," Spenser announced. "Just water. Night, boys..."

I lay on my back, my diaper full of shit, my stomach quezy from the odor of shit all around me. I prayed that these two would do their thing asap, but I knew that, if it were me, I'd hold out as long as I could. They had the power, now; they could keep us in shitty diapers for 24 hours if they chose. I wondered if their 'big brothers' had given them the chance to use the toilet before we started, too...

Have you ever worn a diaper filled with shit for 21 hours?

I have.

Diaper rash sucks. By the next afternoon I knew why babies cry all the time.

I've never been so glad to take off a piece of clothing.

And I've never been so happy to take a fucking shower.

The first day back to class was embarrassing, wondering who had seen me in a dirty diaper, who had smelled my shit as I showed them to the kitchen. I prayed nobody had captured that shit on their cell phones.

I had my cell phone back, finally. And a position in the best frat on campus. So, no matter what, I had my pride.

For a guy to have spent 21 hours in his own feces and still be able to say his pride... well, that's my frat.

I met Chris at the party. He was a guest, and I probably gave him directions or something, but with more than 200 people there... I didn't remember. But I'll never forget the second time I met him, and I've agreed to write about that for a future article.

Fraternity Diaper: Part III

CWIS'S NOTE: I have edited this for clarity, but not much for content. With the exception of changing or removing some names, everything you're about to read was submitted by a friend of mine, a recent graduate of the University of Buffalo now living in Rochester, NY. He's not an AB, but he's done a little abysitting. He also wore a diaper for a weekend, which is what this two-part story is about. Enjoy...

FRATERNITY DIAPER: PART III

When you think about Hell Week, you think of a week of absolute humiliation and torture followed by a weekend of inebriated craziness. Alcohol poisoning. Death.

Which is the way hazing used to be. But not anymore.

Not at [EDITED] College, anyway. Despite the nonchalantness of the older brothers, at most schools there is a fear of being caught hazing. Of having restrictions placed on chapters, of having charters revoked. Nobody gives a fuck about going to jail, but nobody wants to lose their fraternity. If it didn't mean so fucking much, they wouldn't go through humiliation to become a part of it.

So, for us, Hell Week became Hell Weekend. The week involved chores and early bedtimes, and barely leaving our rooms. Hell Weekend involved... mystery.

On Thursday we'd spent the day being slightly embarassed across campus. Just embarassing enough to entertain the campus and make us look like retards; not bad enough to look like hazing.

On Friday we'd spend the day going to classes, and then would report back to the house. Nobody would leave for the weekend. We hadn't been told much, but we'd been told it was Hell Weekend. We knew we were in store for... something.

At class on Friday I overheard several people in my public speaking class talking about my frat. I listened intently, but only caught bits and pieces. It seemed that they thought they'd be going to a party at the house on Saturday night. Doubtful, I thought; we're going to be getting tortured all day Saturday. Still, I wondered if there was a party being planned when I overheard a different group talking about it on my way to my next class. Hmm. There was always enough beer to have a party...

I spent Friday afternoon in my room, sitting, waiting to be called out. I was joined by several of my fellow pledges, and there was tension and silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. Everyone wondered what was in store for us. I kept playing back scenes from Animal House, Dead Poet's Society, and other movies in my head. I kept thinking of my mother, who spent my entire high school career keeping me from drinking, finding out her little boy had died of alcohol poisoning. I'm not very religious, but I did spend a few minutes on my knees Friday afternoon.

On Friday at about 6 p.m. we were called out for dinner. We were told to dress up. I wondered how they expected us to do that, since nobody had been given much time to get stuff. I certainly hadn't grabbed a dressy outfit.

One big group, we were all directed to sit at the kitchen table together. One pledge was wearing a tie, another a button-down shirt. The rest of us looked just like we always did...

We'd become accustomed to eating dinner in our rooms, or in small groups, eating peanut butter sandwiches while we served the brothers actual food. So to be sat at the dining room table, one big group, was feeling pretty good. Like we'd arrived.

In front of us were place settings consisting of giant white China plates and, on top of them, little silver domes. I pictures this stuff coming with the mansion with the original owners. My mother had fine China, but this stuff was... exquisite.

At each place was a full setting of silverware, as well, complete with two spoons, three forks, a knife, and some little tiny fork across the top of the plate. Water goblets rounded out the place setting. I secretly wondered if we were skipping Hell Weekend and going right to brotherhood...

The brothers filed in and stood around us.

"Welcome to dinner, gentlemen," announced Darren. "You've spent the week serving us, and we appreciate that." (Laughter from the other brothers). "We know we're no piece of cake. No picnic. So tonight we'd like to return the favor. Tonight we'll be serving you dinner."

Smiles all around.

"This is exciting," Darren exclaimed. Heads nodded.

"Mark, very nice tie," Mark, another brother, said to the only pledge who had dressed up. "We Marks, we really know how to do it up. Everyone else... no ties?"

"Sir, we didn't really have time to - " one pledge began, but Mark cut him off with a waive of his hand.

"Hands raised, please."

The pledge's hand went up.

"Yes?"

"Sir, we really didn't have time to get ties, sir," the pledge repeated.

"You can't come to a formal dinner not dressed for it," Darren broke in. We pledges looked at each other, bewildered, and the brothers chuckled. "Get undressed."

If we thought we were confused a few minutes before, we were really confused now.

We sat around the table looking at each other.

"Undressed, now!" Darren said, forcefully. One by one we began taking our shirts off, wadding them up and siting with them on our laps. He waited. I stood up slowly, unbuckled my belt, and began to take down my pants. I went slowly, waiting to be told to stop. I wasn't, and as the others followed I realized we'd be sitting around in our underwear. Hmm.

We soon were seated in our boxers, holding our pants and shirts. All but Mark, who'd been allowed to remain dressed. I was irritated, was he already getting points above the rest of us? I wanted #1 spot. FUCK!

"Un-dressed."

I realized that we were going to be eating dinner naked about the same time everyone else did. Faces red as fuck, each of us stood and removed our underwear, and then our socks. Soon we were sitting, bare-assed, a dozen embarassed frat pledges. Is this even hygienic? I was thinking...

"Joachim, would you bring out their outfits for the weekend?"

Another brother, Joachim, retrieved a large box from the kitchen. He walked around the table, pulling out items and placing them in the hands of each pledge. It took me seeing him doing it four or five times before I figured out what we were going to be wearing: huge diapers. WTF! I'd seen these in movies before, but I was hoping we'd be spared...

Once each of us were holding a diaper we were instructed to throw our clothes onto the floor behind us, and then put them on.

Have you ever put on a huge diaper by yourself?

Actually, judging by my audience, you probably have! Hahaha.

I hadn't. And I struggled like a bitch! Seriously... I stood up, trying not to let my cock swing around too much, and held the top of the diaper by my navel. I couldn't figure out which end was which, and was about to tape it with the tapes in the back when I remembered having actually changed a baby diaper; the tapes go in the front. I reversed the thing and tried to put it on. I'm holding the front up over my cock, and I couldn't get a grip on the back. Then I grabbed the back and held on, but my cock flopped and pushed the front down. Jesus... I hoped we weren't getting points based on self-diapering speed.

I was reassured by the fact that everyone else seemed to be struggling too.

After a few minutes I was wearing the thing, seated back at my seat. Faces were red and nobody was comfortable. Any joy we'd been taking in being served a big, formal dinner was pretty much gone.

"This is what you'll be wearing this weekend," Darren said. "Not the same diaper all weekend. But diapers all weekend. Any questions?"

None.

"Dinner time," he said, picking up a silver bell and ringing it. With that the brothers stepped around behind us, putting their hands on our shoulders. I shivered - it was cold, and I wasn't used to having another dude put his hands on me while I was wearing just a diaper. (Ah, the irony!) Darren nodded, and each brother reached forward, grabbing our little silver domes in unison. They lifted them and revealed: dinner.

Gerber fucking baby food. In little jars.

WTF!

"You were probably hoping for prime rib," Spencer, another brother, said, smiling. "Sorry..."

We each looked at each other, and around at the food set out before us. I had peas. I remembered my mother telling a story about how I'd puked peas all over her as a baby. And, before me, a jar of fucking peas.

"You can't have a delicious dinner without drinks!" Spencer said enthusiastically, and on cute a brother walked out with a big silver tray - of baby bottles.

Seriously; baby bottles.

"Anyone ever had a White Russian?" Spencer asked. Several of the pledges around me nodded vigorously, and one shouted out "Hell yeah!" Spencer laughed. "Greatttt! Well, tonight you're having... baby formula." The baby bottles were in front of us now. Dinner would be peas and formula. In diapers.

Not what I'd been expecting.

Surprisingly, I didn't throw up. Dry heaves but... no vomit.

Go me.

After dinner we were sent to our rooms.

And directly to bed.

I lay silently, in my diaper, trying to sleep.

The motherfucker made NOISE!

Every time I moved just a little, it sounded like a fucking piece of tinfoil being wadded up.

I quivered my asscheeks just a little bit. NOISE. I rolled over onto my stomach. NOISE.

I realized that everyone else was pretty much doing what I was doing. Squeezing cheeks, rolling around, rubbing our cocks, and listening.

Annoying!

After thirty minutes of noise-interrupted silence, someone finally said it.

"So guys... I have to piss!"

It came as a whisper, but I realized, as soon as I heard it, that I had to piss, too.

We were wearing diapers, and only diapers. And we had to piss.

Nobody said it, but I imagined we were all thinking it: would we be allowed to piss?

I hoped so!

I pictured myself laying in bed in a big Depends diaper soaking in my own urine. DISGUSTING. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I might throw up.

And then it hit me...

I was going to have to take a crap, too.

It wasn't even 9 p.m. yet. No way I was making it to the next morning.

Oh... my... GOD!

The pledge who'd whispered that he had to piss got up and tiptoed to the door. A brother was on him immediately, and we all listened to him ask, humbly, if he could go to the bathroom. Sir.

"Haha," the brother replied. "You thought we were going to make you go in your diapers, did you?"

Pause...

"Wasn't... sure... sir."

"No, you're all right. You know where the bathroom is."

Inside the bedroom we each breathed a sigh of relief.

A few minutes later the pledge was back.

He lay down, his diaper making the tinfoil noise.

"I have to go too," I whispered. "Which bathroom?"

"Doesn't matter," he whispered back. "They're locked. All of them."

FUCK...

Every single one of us woke up in our own piss. Some of us had tried to hold out, but nobody was successful. I'd lasted until about 5 a.m., but I was exhausted and eventually just said fuck it. I'd pissed so much the diaper had leaked onto the mattress. I wondered if that would affect my ranking.

Breakfast was dry cheerios and milk. We were prohibited from pouring the milk into the Cheerios. It was an interesting breakfast.

Shower time was next, and I have never been so relieved to use a toilet before. I shit until I couldn't shit no more. And then I shit again. Pissed, too. And then showered. I scrubbed my dick, balls, and ass like it was infested. I'd been covered in my own piss for three, four hours. I was getting clean!

We'd thought our time in diapers was over, but... we were wrong. Waiting for us after the shower was... another diaper. My face must have fallen, because Elias started laughing when he saw it. I shook my head. This time, though, I put the thing on in half the time. It fit better, too.

We were directed to go into the foyer and sit. If anyone had walked into the house at that moment we would have looked pretty crazy, a group of thirteen college students in diapers and a group of more than twenty in boxers, t's, and whatever else.

A brother flipped on the TV and turned it to the cartoon channel. We sat there in silence, watching cartoons, and the irony wasn't lost on me: a group of diaper-clad college kids watching Saturday morning cartoons. Time machine?

After thirty minutes the rest of the brothers came into the room, and the TV was turned off.

An announcement was made: the house was holding a party - tonight - and the "little brothers" were hosting it.

"There are thirteen of you," one brother told us. "The same number we started with. We've never had that happen before. So I'm here to tell you... all of you who make it through this weekend will have a spot in this fraternity. We are proud of you. Nobody will be kicked out at this point. Some may quit, and that's fine. But if you don't quit, you're in."

HUGE, HUGE SMILES.

"Now, what place you get... that gets decided tonight."

NERVOUS GLANCES.

"Let's take a tour of the house."

The brothers led us around the house, showing us the rooms we'd be living in.

Huge room, king sized bed, with a water view and a big screen. Huge room with two queen beds and a plasma. Large room, one bed. Medium-sized room, one bed. Small room, two beds. Closet, two beds.

And then... a large back room used for storage. Two fold-out cots, a toddler bed, and a sleeping bag on the floor.

"We weren't expecting all of you," Scott, a senior, told us. "My suggestion is... don't be in last place. You won't even get a bed."

"A toddler bed," one brother said, laughing. "That's funny. Where the FUCK did we find that shit?"

All of the brothers laughed. All of the pledges didn't.

"We won't wind up with thirteen," another brother predicted. "Someone will quit. Probably a few someones. I predict ten... it is Hell Weekend, you know."

We spent the day on our hands and knees, scrubbing floors and polishing baseboards, in a scene straight out of every frat boy movie you've ever seen.

Dressed in diapers, and occasionally pissing ourselves, we were a fairly embarassed group.

Still, it wasn't as bad as the movies. We were bossed around, but there was no licking shoes. No crawling around with paddles attached to our hands. No groveling. We were actually treated with respect, really.

The worst, though, was yet to come...

At 4 p.m. we were treated to more baby food. I got apple this time, which I actually found kind of tasty - although I didn't let it show. Someone hurled his peas - haha, sucker - and one dude looked like he was going to refuse to eat, but then chowed down at the last minute. Pussy. No baby bottles with dinner; we were given huge glasses and every kind of soda you can think of spread out before us. It occurred to me that we were still wearing diapers, and what comes in must come out, so I poured just a little and took small sips. This would prove to be a good choice...

At 4:20 we were sitting at the table when the brothers walked in. They each had baby blue cloths in their hands, and each walked around behind us, one by one. On cue they leaned forward and held the cloths in front of us. They were bibs, and before we knew it we were each wearing one - baby blue bibs embroidered with our frat's Greek letters.

"Cute," said one of the brothers, and the rest laughed.

"I always wanted a little brother," said another.

"Diapers off!"

At once we were up and removing our diapers. I was relieved; mine was wet, and I was very uncomfortable. We'd been allowed to use the toilet throughout the day if we had to shit, but we had to do a fifteen minute wall sit. I'd held it.

"Brothers, diaper your pledges," Spencer announced. My 'big brother' was on me within seconds. He motioned for me to come with him, and we walked upstairs to his room, a large single on the third floor facing the lake.

"Nice room, sir," I told him.

"You're Unworthy of this room," he told me, a serious look on his face. Then he burst out laughing. "Dude, go take a dump. Hurry." He pointed to his bathroom and I did, hustling in, shitting, wiping, washing, and coming back out. He pointed to his bed and I sat down on it. He took my feet in his hands and pushed them up above my head, forcing me to lay back. This was as close to a homoerotic experience as I'd ever had, and I was pretty fucking nervous. Was he going to stick something up my ass?

Instead, Zachary forced the diaper he was holding up underneath my ass. He sprinkled baby powder all over me and folded the diaper over my dick, taping it tightly, and pulling me back up into a sitting position.

"You need to be comfortable, because tonight is the night you earn a room like mine," he told me. "I started out at #4, but #2 got kicked out of school, and I'm #3 in my class. I want you to be in the same position I'm in."

"Thank you, SIR!" I said, meaning it. I thought our big brothers were supposed to torture us. Mine seemed pretty cool.

"I'm going to give you a hint," he told me. "Don't try to outsmart us and be first. It's not worth it. And... don't quit. You'll be glad you didn't."

"I don't understand," I replied, but he just smiled.

"You will. Let's go downstairs..."

"Party's at seven," Spencer announced once we were all sitting on the floor again. "Your jobs will be assigned to you shortly. There are a few rules. Number one: our names are SIR. Number two: your names are UNWORTHY. And number three: nobody should have to ask you twice for anything. Any questions?"

"No, SIR," collectively.

"Lie on your stomachs," he ordered, and we all complied. He walked through the room as we lay silently, rubbing something across the back of our diapers. I glanced over as he was standing over the kid next to me. He had a marker, and he was writing something. Or, more accurately, signing something.

"I've signed your diapers," he announced when he was finished. "Nobody here can replicate my signature, and if anyone ever tries, they're done with [EDITED]. Your diapers don't come off until I take them off. Your bibs don't come off until I take them off. And your bonnets... the same."

Bonnets?

I saw a big box on the table and realized... yes, bonnets.

"Here's how it works," the brother continued. "You are all wearing a diaper. Now the contest begins. You will now become... the Dirty Dozen."

Laughter. I remembered this had been mentioned a week ago.

"You will drink what we give you. You will eat what we give you. And you will not be allowed to use the toilet. Any questions so far?"

NO SIR...

"He who drops a load in his diaper first is Brother #2. From there, the numbers go in reverse order. He who goes second is #13. The third pooper is #12. Are you guys catching the pattern?"

YES, SIR...

"If you use the toilet, you've quit the fraternity. If you sneak your snake out to piss, you've quit the fraternity. And if you take your diaper off before this weekend is over, the weekend is over. Questions?

NO, SIR...

But I had questions.

Starting with... WHAT THE FUCK???

We were going to be defacating on ourselves?

To join a frat?

For real?

Shitting on ourselves? And then prohibited from taking off our dirty, disgusting diapers?

This was fucking GAY!

I'd gone through a week of strictness and a day of humiliation only to find out I'd have to shit in my own pants to get a good room.

Or, more accurately, not shitting to get a good room.

This was... sick.

The brother had finished with the rules and there were no questions. And then it hit me. Not only would I be wearing a diaper... I'd be serving upperclassmen coming to a party. At our fucking frat house.

Me. A diaper. Possible fecal matter. And people from across campus.

Seriously?

For the first time I began thinking about quitting.

My job was assigned: I was to stand in the foyer and give people directions to the various rooms of the house.

I was to say "Sir, ma'am" to everyone.

And take sit-down breaks only when given permission. By a brother.

Not only would I be diapered... I'd be front and center.

I was feeling sorry for myself, until I heard James' assignment: stand out on the porch and welcome everyone to the party.

Yeah, I could handle inside.

"Ready to begin?" a brother asked. Everyone nodded and, on command, stood up.

"Hell... Weekend... Has... Begun!"

Within seconds three hands shot up.

"I pooped, sir," said James. Proudly. I couldn't help but laugh... James was happy to have shit in his pants. Wow.

"Congratualations, James" Spenser shouted, and the brothers all clapped. "Gentleman, you are looking at Brother #2!"

Irony... #2? Yeah.

"Ummmmm... sir..." stammered Tommy, another pledge. "I actually did, too."

"Did what?" Spenser asked. Tommy was red as fuck and didn't look proud.

"I pooped, sir."

I looked at Zachary, who looked at me. THANK YOU, SIR I mouthed. He nodded and smiled. I realized what he'd meant about not trying to smart anyone to be first.

"You pooped?" Spenser asked? "Come here, let me see."

Tommy walked over to Spenser. It was clear from the mound in the back of his diaper he had, indeed, shitted. But still, Spenser reached down, put his hand on Tom's diaper, and rubbed it all around. I imagined the shit going everywhere. I thought I might throw up.

"You did, indeed, Thomas," Spenser announced. And then, without missing a beat, he announced: "GENTLEMEN... MEET BROTHER NUMBER... THIRTEEN!"

Tommy looked around. Nobody was clapping. He looked sick.

I looked over at the third hand. This dude looked sick, too. And angry. Within seconds, all eyes were on him.

"Sir, I actually think I did it first," he stammered.

"Did what first?" Spenser asked him innocently.

"Shit in my fucking shit, dude," the kid blurted out. All respect was gone now. He was angry.

"You did what in your fucking what?" Spenser asked, and other brothers began to laugh.

"Yo, I shit before you even said it started!" the kid shouted. Spenser looked at the other brothers, and then at us, and then back at the boy.

"GENTLEMEN... MEET... BROTHER NUMBER... THIRTEEN!"

The kid stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. People chuckled and I wondered how long it would take him to realize he was in a shitty diaper, with no dorm keys, before he'd return.

"Brother number twelve, take your position!" Spenser shouted, looking at the formerly #13. "Everyone else... it's GO TIME!"

I knew my mission. No matter what else I did... I had to not poop.

I was going to be #1... or at least #3 or 4. I wanted Spenser status. I wanted to be like my big brother. I wanted that sick room.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Fraternity Diaper: Part II

CWIS'S NOTE: I have edited this for clarity, but not much for content. With the exception of changing or removing some names, everything you're about to read was submitted by a friend of mine, a recent graduate of the University of Buffalo now living in Rochester, NY. He's not an AB, but he's done a little abysitting. He also wore a diaper for a weekend, which is what this two-part story is about. Enjoy...

FRATERNITY DIAPER: PART II

Pledge week was rough.

Not in the humiliating sense that one might think when they think of fraternity pledges.

More in the sense of being at college for mere days, weeks, and then having more rules than when we were home.

I had a curfew and a bedtime again, something I hadn't had since I was in junior high. We'd be expected to sit in our rooms doing homework until bedtime. Those of us with evening classes were lucky; one pledge had signed up for morning classes, so his day would basically begin at 8 a.m., end at 1 p.m, and he'd be sitting in his room working on homework for hours on end.

There was some reprieve. We'd be called out one at a time to be slaves for the upperclassmen. With more than twenty-five, they'd eat dinner in groups of three, four, five - whoever happened to be in the house at the time. Some would eat alone. They'd need food prepared, brought to the table, places cleared, dishes washed. Then we'd be sent to our rooms, and someone else would be called out to wait on them while they hung out after dinner. If you were called out during this time you'd basically sit on the floor facing the window to the porch and, when someone needed something, they'd shout at you to get it. The standard response: "Sir, yes sir!" then crawl as fast as you can to retrieve the beer (or whatever), crawl back fast with it being careful not to drop/shake it, then hand it to the brother and should "Sir, I'm Unworthy sir!"

We'd eat dinner altogether, just before bedtime, which for those of us not waiting on anyone would be between 8 and 9 p.m.; besides that, and whispering in our rooms, we'd never really get to speak to each other. Still, I kind of got to know some of my fellow pledges by the way they behaved. Some had balls; they'd whisper right up until a bro walked into the doorway; others were scared, barely talking at all. One kid, Elliot, sat at his desk staring at his homework the whole time. If someone touched his shoulder to get his attention he'd shake them off and ignore them. This kid meant business...

There was some humiliation.

We'd heard about fraternity pledges being forced to walk around campus in dresses. Diapers. Other crazy outfits.

Being forced to walk around on leashes.

Carry books for their older brothers.

But at [EDITED], there are strict rules on hazing.

You can't "humiliate, embarrass, or otherwise disrespect" a pledge.

So my fraternity didn't.

Instead, they let us do it to ourselves.

On Wednesday, just before bedtime, we were ordered to the living room. Everyone had seats on the floor, around our older bro's, who were almost all present. One, Chad, sat on a chaise with a huge box in front of him. Stephen stood, pacing the floor. He nodded to Chad, who took a bag out of the box and threw it to a pledge. One by one he tossed the bags, each labeled with our names, to us. The first pledge who got a bag started to open it, but was stopped by a glance and head shake from Stephen. The rest of us quietly sat with our bags in our laps.

"Who's tired of being stuck in the frat house?" Corey, a junior, asked. Everyone began laughing, and a few people raised their hands. Corey nodded, smiling. "Then you'll enjoy tomorrow. We're sending you out after breakfast, and you're not allowed to come back until bedtime." Some of us began nodding to each other, and smiles came across nearly everyone's face. Elliot wasn't smiling, I noticed. Hmmm.

"Tomorrow is 'Tricky Thursday'," Stephen began. "It's a day set aside for each of you - our pledges - to make us proud. By doing a trick."

Laughter.

"In your bags each of you will your outfit for tomorrow," Stephen continued. "You will put your outfit on before you are called out for breakfast, and you will wear it to bed. Open your bags."

I opened my bag, looking around at the other bags as I did it. In each bag was a pair of track shorts and a t-shirt. Underwear and socks. Normal underwear, no frilly panties or diapers or anything. This didn't seem so bad...

One pledge held up his shirt. I noticed it seemed small as fuck next to dude's frame. It was white, and on the front, in huge pink letters, read the following:

ASK ME TO DO A TRICK!

I pulled my own outfit up and looked at it. The t-shirt and shorts were way too small. The underwear was huge. The socks were huge. I wondered who'd done the sizing on this. Could we trade? I noticed my initials marked on the underwear, and looked to see if it was elsewhere; it was, on everything but the socks. Damn.

Hector, a senior, walked up to a pledge with a bowl. He ordered the pledge to reach in and pull out a piece of paper, and the pledge did.

"Read it aloud," Hector ordered.

"The Upside Down Headstand Trick, sir" the pledge read.

"Hard one," Hector said. He waked around to each pledge, with each taking a piece of paper and reading it. The hardbody trick. The crab crawl trick. The humping jacks trick. The marathon backstroke trick.

He came to me, and I pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it and reading it.

"The Flying Trapeze Trick, sir," I read, and the brothers laughed.

"That's a fun one," Hector said, and others nodded. I realized, right away, it wouldn't be fun for me.

I won't bore you with the details, but in short: on Tricky Thursday I spent the entire day walking around campus in between my two classes, wearing a ridiculously small pair of shirts, a t-shirt so tight my stomach was showing, and a pair of briefs so big they could barely be tucked in. Add to that socks up to my knees and a pair of Birkenstocks that clip-clapped everywhere I went - nothing like a fucking announcement of my ridiculous presence.

When someone asked to see my trick, I was supposed to tell them to grab onto the tag on the back of my underwear and direct them to pull up. Then, as they did, I was supposed to pick my legs up so that, technically, I was... flying. The idea, of course, was for me to get a huge humiliating wedgie. Fortunately almost everyone would let go as soon as I took the support off my legs. So, besides the outfit... not that bad.

Just before dinner I was walking through the quad when a group of Lax players rounded the corner and headed straight for me. One called me over and, in keeping with the rules, I complied.

"You do tricks?" the biggest, buffest one asked me. I nodded. "Let us see one?" he asked.

I sighed.

"Would you grab right here?" I asked, pulling up the back of my briefs and sort of making a handle with them. He reached around behind me and grabbed on, waiting. "And would you lift up, please?"

Within seconds I was in the air. Not just a few inches, as before, but a few feet. I was suspended by my underwear, and I actually was sort of flying around, dangling. The top of my underwear was way up by my neck - these briefs are huge - and my face was redder than the print on my shirt, I'm sure.

Just then I heard it. I gigantic ripping noise. And I was on the ground, Lax dude still holding on to my underwear.

"Nice trick!" he said, and the others in his group began laughing and clapping. My underwear was seriously up inside my asshole, and it was embarrassing. I got up off my knees and began walking away, reaching around behind me to feel the situation. The waistband of my underwear was dangling several feet off my ass. I did my best to tuck it in, and realized it was fruitless; here came the football team, and they looked happy to see me. Fuck...

At least I didn't have the Spank the Monkey trick. Jonathan, who did, spent the day spanking his own ass until people told him to stop. When we went to bed my waistband was missing, and my underwear would need to be surgically removed from my anus; Jonathan would be unable to lay on his back. Ouch.

So here's how it works.

The frat house has eight spots. And twelve people to vie for them.

It's expected that the week will start with twelve - or, in our class's case, thirteen - and end with less. People will refuse to serve or do chores, or tire of being cooped up in their rooms. Every year a few people will quit. Depending on the ferocity of the upperclassmen, some years many people will quit.

Those who don't quit vie for position.

The eight pledges who get accepted have a wide range of options waiting for them, and these options are determined by your rank at the end of Hell Weekend.

He who ranks highest gets a huge bedroom facing the road and the lake. The room had its own bathroom, a flat screen TV, and this huge king-size canopy bed.

Second-ranked gets a room almost as sweet, minus the view. Third and fourth ranked share a room, also with a private bath - mansions are awesome.

Fifth and sixth share a small room with twin sized beds. No TV. A view of the dumpster - and the stink that comes with it.

And seventh and eighth? A closet. With bunk beds. Off of the entrance hall. With one electrical outlet for the room.

Things get better, of course, in your second year. As older brothers move out you move up in room.

But everything else is decided by rank, too.

#1 leads the class. And gets a $200/month allowance for doing it. Decision-making powers and beer money.

#2 helps #1. And gets $40/week.

#3 gets no allowance, but rounds out the decision-making trifecta. Every month twelve brothers sit down for a meeting. Parties are planned. Budgets are decided. Chores are assigned. And the top three people from each class have total control for the entire time they're in the frat.

#4, #5, and #6 have sort of the average life. Shitty room, no power, and a number of chores to do each week. (#1, #2, and #3 have no household chores at all; their 'chore' is basically attending a meeting once a month.

And #7 and #8... shit. One takes out the garbage nightly, and the other cleans all of the bathrooms. All eight. Plus a bunch of other chores.

So you get power, prestige, and a pampered life... or you get to scrub toilets.

All based on Hell Weekend...

Soon Hell Weekend would be upon us. I'd still be pulling pieces of my Hanes out of my anal cavity, Jonathan would be nursing a sore bum, and others would be recovering in other ways. Once Hell Weekend came, though, it was time to earn our rankings...

...time to find out why we'd be called the Dirty Dozen.

To Be Continued...

Fraternity Diaper: Part I

CWIS'S NOTE: I have edited this for clarity, but not much for content. With the exception of changing or removing some names, everything you're about to read was submitted by a friend of mine, a recent graduate of the University of Buffalo now living in Rochester, NY. He's not an AB, but he's done a little abysitting. He also wore a diaper for a weekend, which is what this two-part story is about. Enjoy...

FRATERNITY DIAPER: PART I

I have to start my story by saying that I am not an AB. Or a DL, or a TB, or a CB, or a FB, or whatever other initials you might use for your fetish. I am nothing.

I am one of only two people who can say that they have 'abysat' Cwis. And I might tell that story one day, if he allows me to. But, I can also say that I am not into diapers. Not even a little bit.

In fact, I was only in diapers for about a year as an infant. I wore diapers until I turned 1. A few months after my first birthday my mother, who was a very persistent potty trainer, had me weaned. Most kids are still in diapers at 2, 3, 4. Not me.

I'm still very proud of my first accomplishment. Which might be why I don't want to go back into diapers now.

So, besides being a baby, I've only worn diapers four other times: three times for Chris, twice when I needed gas money to go home for a weekend from college and once as a going-away present for him; and, once in college.

The Chris stories are boring.

The college story isn't. Which is why, a full two years after he first asked me, I am going to tell it here.

I graduated from college in May.

I took longer than most college student, because I got kicked out of my first school, had to transfer, and finished at a second. And enjoyed every minute of it. The first school is where I met Chris. I enrolled in 2005 and met him that year. And wore diapers that year, too.

Here goes...

I knew before even enrolling at (un-named) College I wanted to pledge a fraternity. If you've ever pledged one, you understand why. For everyone else, I'll explain.

First off, I've always been in the closet.

As a partier.

I've been 420-friendly since I was 4'2. And I've been a binge drinker since high school. I'm fun at parties, I have more fun at parties, I just love to party.

But I've always had to hide it.

My controlling mom, who had me using the toilet at age one, had me fearing getting into trouble soon after. She used a variety of means, from guilt trips to a wooden spoon. So my partying was mostly done on weekends I could fake staying at friends. Most of my high school career she didn't have a clue.

I knew I was going to party at college. My mother would be three hours away. And she hates highways. And everyone knows fraternities offer the best party opportunities available.

Seconds, I like tits and ass. That's right, I'm straight. (Sorry, guys). I've been diapered by another guy, and I've changed another guy's diaper (actually, Cwis was both guys), but short of a little fooling around with some friends in high school I've never done anything sexual with a guy, I've just always liked the ladies. And ladies like the brothers.

And third, fraternities are a great place to secure your future. Many have professional connections that you wouldn't get otherwise. I actually found a job right out of college through a fraternity connection, when a lot of college kids these days are working at the grocery store.

So I knew I'd be pledging from day 1.

I'd already sort of checked out frats when I'd visited the college during the previous school year. I didn't know a lot about them, but one had a huge mansion, it looked clean and well kept, and everyone I'd seen on the steps and portico looked like people I'd want to be getting in with. So while I hadn't decided on that one, all summer I'd imagined myself there. By the time first weekend had arrived, I'd pretty much decided that was where I'd be.

When I got to school I found out, pretty quick, that was the hardest frat to get into. My frat had it all: a huge national organization (which would come in handy when I transferred), a history of some very successful members, and the prestige that goes along with that. Plus they had a house better than the college president's, and a sister sorority close by with some of the most beautiful girls on campus. Everyone rushed it, and they had a huge house, but very few openings each year: 8. Even worse, they originally chose 12, which were nicknamed the 'Dirty Dozen' - I'd find out why later. More than 30 guys rushed it, 12 were selected to be evaluated for membership, and only 8 were guaranteed a spot.

I wanted to be a member in my first year - dorm life sucks, especially at (EDITED) College, and I didn't want to experience it. You can rush more than one frat, but if you get invited to more than one you have to choose. I wasn't sure if there was another frat that I wanted to join, and it was hard to decide if I should rush more than one, or

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH!

OK, enough about that. You all don't care about my decision-making process. You just want me to get to the part about the diapers, probably. :]

Anyway, I only rushed one.

After a week of events, including one where they gave out a guide on hazing and talked about its dangers, the fraternity made its offers. They chose twelve brothers, and I was one. In the movies you see all kinds of crazy secret ways of telling people they've been selected, from kidnapping them and taking them to secret locations, to flashing headlights across a parking lot, to...

Well, at mine they give you your pin. Someone walks into your classroom, they just find you on campus, and they put a pin on your desk. And they lean down and whisper "bring this to the house tonight at 7 p.m.", and you'd better hope you don't have other plans, or don't lose the pin, because if you're not there with your pin at 7 you're out. And if you decide not to pledge the frat you'd better bring that pin by 7 anyway, because if you think you're getting away with a free fraternity pin you're way mistaken. (Ever had 32 angry Greeks harass you on campus? Not worth it).

I had plans but they were dropped like that ('snaps fingers'), and at 6:55 I was walking up the steps with a dozen other guys. We were told to sit in the foyer, where I and some others got seats and the others nervously stood, shifting from foot to foot. There was nervous chatter, and after a while I looked at my watch and realized we'd been waiting for more than twenty minutes. I had spent the time sizing up the competition. It was like an Abercrombie & Fitch photoshoot; I was looking to join with twelve other good looking guys. And everyone looked nervous, yet self-confident. I wondered how they chose.

After nearly thirty minutes, during which nobody dared move or even considered getting up to leave, a few more Abercrombie guys joined us. They walked in and everyone was quiet at once. One of them looked around the room, letting his eyes rest on every single person in the room. I saw some red faces, guys clearly hoping they stacked up but wondering if they had a chance. I took note of who they were.

"Did Brother Conor tell you to stand, or sit?" he asked one, looking at him directly. This dude, with his back to a doorframe, looked around nervously, like he hoped someone else would step in and answer for him. Nobody did, and he finally sputtered out: "Sit?"

The brother who had asked the question looked at him and then looked at the floor. I could tell this new pledge was steaming inside, he looked so pissed! He slowly sat down on the floor, his back still to the doorframe. It didn't seem like he was used to being told what to do, and he didn't like it.

"Move in," the brother commanded. This dude slid into the room about an inch. "IN" the brother repeated, and again the kid slid about an inch or two into the room, rolling his eyes and looking irrirated.

"Brother Conor, would you take your pledge outside?" the brother asked, and the brother who had welcomed us into the room pointed to the reluctant pledge and pointed to the porch. The dude slowly got up, shaking his head, and walked outside with a glare, Conor following him. The first brother looked around the room, letting his eyes rest on each of the still-standing pledges. Without needing instructions, each quickly sat, with several scooting their butts closer to be inside the room.

There was more waiting, and then Conor and the guy with the attitude walked back inside. The pledge stopped at the first brother and said, simply, "Sir, I'm very sorry," and then walked to the middle of the floor and sat directly on a circle on the marble, obviously where he'd been told. Someone chuckled. The dude's face was red as fuck.

"My name is Stephen," the bossy brother said. "Welcome to the fraternity. You are the class of 2009's 'Dirty Dozen'"

Only Conor laughed.

"Has everyone enjoyed the events for the past week?" Conor asked, and everyone nodded enthusiastically. "What was your favorite part of the week?" he asked, looked directly at me.

"I enjoyed the presentation where you went through who some of the chapter's members have been," I answered on the fly, trying to think of something responsible to say. He rolled his eyes and laughed, and I felt my face grow red. He turned to the pledge next to me.

"Same question."

Slowly, one by one, each pledge gave a different version of my answer. Responsible. This was a job interview, and we all wanted to be successful.

At the end, Stephen turned to Conor and shook his head.

"Do you think it could be?" Stephen asked.

"It could be, I think it is," Conor answered. Then they looked at us together.

"Could be our most boring pledge class ever," they said in unison.

"My name is Stephen," he told us again. "For the next week, you may call me SIR. My brother here is also named SIR. In fact, we are ALL named SIR. And, for the week, your name is Unworthy. Any questions?"

"No, SIR" said the room.

"Good. The next week is going to be a difficult week. I'd say the most difficult of your lives, but we don't know where your lives have been. We'd like to get to know... from eight of you. That's the number of beds we have here. So I must personally apologize in advance to four of you; you'll be going through the week for nothing."

I looked around; everyone looked nervous. I tried to be self-confident. Wrong choice.

"You," Stephen said, pointing to me. "Come here."

I stood up and walked to Stephen, wondering if I should have groveled across the floor. He didn't tell me to stop, so I guessed I was OK.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"Travis," I answered. He looked at Conor, who looked at him, and I realized my fuckup right away.

"I mean Unworthy," I corrected myself.

"No," Stephen said. "You mean Unworthy, SIR."

"Unworthy, SIR."

"What's your last name?" he asked me.

"[EDITED]," I replied.

"No, your REAL last name," he said. I was confused. He laughed, Conor laughed, and a few guys in the room laughed. Dumb shits, they didn't know what they were laughing at. He turned to the room. "Pledges, I would like you to meet a potential new brother." He leaned in and put his lips to my ear, whispering and spitting a little.

Piece of shit.

"Would you introduce yourself to everyone?" he commanded. My face must have been beet red.

"My name is Unworthy Piece Of Shit" I announced. A few people laughed, but most were smarter than that. He pointed back to where I've been sitting. He pointed to the next pledge, snapped, and that pledge got up and stepped forward. Pretty soon we'd been introduced to Unworthy of my Father's Sperm, Unworthy Shitstain, Unworthy of the Air I Breathe, and a host of others. I was amazed that they had come up with so many nicknames for us. I'd figure out later that was partially due to decades of doing this, and also because we'd stumbled into a particularly devious group of brothers who relished in humiliating pledges.

About an hour into our visit a group of brothers walked into the room. Several walked up to those of us lucky to have found a seat, and we uncomfortably found places on the floor. They sat down, or stood around us, waiting for Stephen to continue.

"We are in the foyer because you are Unworthy of being invited into the sitting room," Stephen announced. "You haven't earned your place in this fraternity yet, and until you have you will enter the living room only at the request of a Member. Is that understood?"

"Yes, SIR."

"The next week is going to be tough. We have your class schedules. When you have class, you will be at class. When you do not have class, you will be here. You will walk through the front door and go directly to the bedroom I assign you. And you will remain there, studying and doing homework, until you are called out. Questions?"

"No, SIR."

"If you have a cell phone you will leave it on the table before you leave tonight. For the next week, the only people who need to reach you are us; the only people you need to reach is us. If you have some special need for a cell phone for emergency use we understand, and you may leave now."

Nobody stood to leave.

"Good. If you have a car on campus please leave your keys on the table. You won't be driving your car. You won't be leaving campus. You will take the most direct route to and from your classes, and you will take all of your meals here. In a minute I will be introducing you to your Big Brother, and he will go over your mealtimes with you. Questions?"

"No, SIR."

"Did everyone get a copy of the brochure on hazing?" Stephen asked, and most nodded. "Awesome," Stephen said, drawing out the word. "Keep that. Read it. Memorize it. And then remember that we don't haze here. You pledge. Any questions?"

Heads shaking.

"Hazing is harmful. Pledging is not. But pledging can be stressful. It can be embarassing. It can get messy..."

Laughter from the brothers. Nervous looks around from us.

"And for four of you, it will be all for nothing. If anyone would like to leave now, we understand. Please leave your pin on the table."

Nobody stood up.

"This is like paying for bottled water," Stephen continued. "You're going to spend money and get something you could have gotten for free - a room in a dorm. Four of you. Think twice."

Still nobody stood up.

"Pledges, stand," Stephen ordered, and everyone jumped up. The brothers who were sitting stood, and one by one they walked across the room, each standing in front of us. Mine was a guy about a foot shorter than me, with a tight fade. He looked kind of like a wigger, as I would have probably been classified in high school, but reformed. He looked at me without blinking and I stared back. His eyes squinted into kind of a glare and he looked down quickly, then stared at me again. I obediently directed my eyes to the ground. I couldn't believe I was doing this...

At once each brother started talking.

"My name is Zachary. I am your big brother for the next week. I may be your big brother for the next two years. You can call me SIR."

I nodded.

"Your name?"

"My name is Unworthy Piece of Shit, SIR." I answered. He nodded. I blushed. He chuckled, but still looked serious.

"Your pin?" he asked? I fished into my pocket and retrieved it, handing it to him. He walked over to the table and set it down. The table was wooden, probably an antique, and about ten feet in diameter; still, in this huge room, it seemed small. He put my pin onto it and then pointed to me and motioned to follow him, which I did.

"Do you have a cell?" he asked me? I admitted I did, and he told me to turn it off and set it next to my pin. I followed his instructions, knowing the next week was going to be hard. "Car on campus?" he asked me. I nodded, and he told me to put my car keys next to the phone. I wondered how I would get my books from the car, but didn't think this was the time to argue. He pointed back to the floor and I returned to sit as the rest of the brothers stepped up in line at the table. I was already wanting to text!

(I found out later they take your phone so you can't take pictures of the hazing - I mean, pledging.)

"The time now is 8:10," Stephen announced. "You have until 9 p.m. to get what you need from your dorm room and be back here. You are dismissed."

Several guys actually ran out of the house, and I wondered if they'd be back. I walked quickly, headed to the dorm, wishing I had a car so I could bring my television and PC. It wasn't that I couldn't get by with the laptop, or watch TV at the fraternity house; I just figured I didn't want to leave them in my dorm room for a week, for my roommates to use.

I walked into my room and my room mate, Charlie, looked surprised.

"You didn't have to come all the way back," he said. "A simple yes or no would have sufficed."

"What are you talking about, bro?" I asked him.

"My text? If you minded if I had this girl over?"

I laughed. My phone was off, and I was seriously missing it.

"Bro, I'll be back in a week. Do what you want..."

I shoveled my hygiene stuff into a bag and grabbed a few outfits, some school stuff, my laptop, and my iPod and took off for the house.

To Be Continued... HELL WEEK(END)