Welcome to

Philip sat on the edge of the plush velvet sofa in the Theta common room, his knees pressed tight together in a posture that felt entirely unnatural for a guy who usually manspreaded across any available surface. But Vanessa’s body seemed to demand it, her thighs brushing against one another with a softness that sent distracting jolts of awareness up his spine.

Beside him, Jack, currently inhabiting the tall, athletic frame of Katy, was slouching with a careless disregard for sorority etiquette, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, looking bored out of his mind.

“This is torture,” Jack whispered, his voice a low, feminine rasp that sounded bizarrely like Katy but carried all of Jack’s impatience. “We could be upstairs right now, exploring the finer points of female anatomy, and instead we’re sitting here waiting for a PTA meeting to start.”

“Shut up,” Philip hissed, keeping his head down. He smoothed the hem of Vanessa’s denim skirt, his palms sweating. “We almost got caught. If we get kicked out now, we fail the pledge. We have to blend in.”

Blending in, however, was proving to be a nightmare. The common room was filled with other pledges. Girls who knew Vanessa and Katy. Girls who expected Vanessa to be bubbly, loud, and the center of attention, and Katy to be studious and sharp.

Instead, Philip was currently doing a convincing impression of a mute wallflower, terrified that if he opened his mouth, his lack of knowledge about The Bachelor, or whatever else these girls talked about, would out him immediately. He felt like an impostor in a skin suit, every movement clumsy and overthought.

“Hey, Ness!” a girl with blonde curls chirped, dropping onto the arm of the sofa next to him.

“You’re being super quiet today. Usually, you’re bouncing off the walls before a mixer. You okay?”

Philip froze. The scent of the girl’s perfume was overwhelming, and he felt Vanessa’s heart give a traitorous little skip in his chest. It was the body reacting, not him. He forced a smile that felt tight on Vanessa’s glossy lips.

“Just a bit nervous,” Philip managed, pitching his voice to match the higher register he’d been practicing. “Big night. Want to be ready.”

The girl laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re hilarious. It’s just the Delta boys. But I know you’ve been drooling over Ryan Hale all semester. You’re finally going to make a move, right?”

Philip choked on air. Beside him, Jack snorted, quickly turning it into a cough when the blonde girl glanced at him.

“Right,” Philip squeaked. “Ryan. Definitely.”

As the girl wandered off to chat with someone else, Philip let out a shaky breath. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck, catching in the loose hairs escaping Vanessa’s bun. The sensation was maddeningly ticklish. He reached up to scratch it, his fingers brushing against skin that felt softer than anything he possessed on his own body.

“You’re doing a terrible job,” Jack muttered, nudging Philip with his elbow. “Vanessa is a social butterfly. You’re acting like you’re at a funeral. And I’m supposed to be the buzzkill librarian type, right? Katy’s body feels way too restless for that. I feel like I need to run a marathon or jump someone’s bones.”

“Please don’t jump anyone’s bones,” Philip whispered back, eyeing the room. “We are already dangerously close to blowing this.”

He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s breasts against his arms as he crossed them over his chest, a constant, heavy reminder of the physical reality he was trapped in. It was distracting, disorienting, and confusingly pleasant all at once.

The longer they sat there, the more Philip felt like they were drifting away from their original objective of stealing underwear, and getting sucked into a drama that had nothing to do with Delta Epsilon.

The chatter in the room died down abruptly as the double doors at the far end swung open. A tall, striking girl walked in, commanding the room with the kind of authority that usually belonged to drill sergeants or CEOs. This was the Head Sorority Sister. Philip didn’t know her name, but Vanessa’s brain supplied a flash of intimidation and awe that made his stomach knot.

“Listen up, ladies,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. She held a clipboard like a weapon. “Tonight is the mixer. For the sisters, it’s a party. For you pledges? It’s the gauntlet.”

A ripple of nervous energy went through the room. Philip shifted, the denim of his skirt pulling tight across his hips. He saw Jack raise an eyebrow, looking intrigued.

“You want to wear our letters? You have to prove you can handle the social pressure,” the Head Sister continued, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Tonight, we have invited the brothers of Delta Epsilon. Your task is simple. You need to earn tokens.”

She reached into a velvet bag on the table beside her and held up a small, blue plastic coin.

“Blue tokens are worth one point. Most of the brothers have a pocketful of these. They’ll give them up for simple things. A joke. A dance. A drink refill.”

She dropped the blue token and held up a red one.

“Red tokens. Three points. These are harder to get. You’ll have to work for them. These require more enthusiasm. A kiss on the cheek won’t cut it. You need to make an impression.”

Philip swallowed hard. The subtext was thick enough to choke on. He glanced at Jack, who was grinning like a shark.

“And finally,” the Head Sister said, holding up a shimmering gold coin that caught the light of the chandelier. “Gold tokens. Five to ten points, depending on the brother. Only two of the Delta upperclassmen hold these. Ryan Hale has a few. Trent has some. These aren't given away for just anything. They’re earned by those willing to go above and beyond to prove their dedication to the sorority's spirit of… hospitality.”

The room went dead silent.

“You need between ten and thirty points by midnight to pass this phase of initiation,” she announced, her gaze sweeping over them. “The first five girls to hit thirty points get fast-tracked to membership. Anyone under ten points by the time the kegs run dry? You’re cut. No exceptions.”

Philip felt the blood drain from his face. Ten to thirty points. If he only tried to earn blue tokens that would be quite a few dances and jokes. And he sucked at jokes. And dancing to be honest.

Fuck. That left trying for red or gold. He looked down at Vanessa’s small, manicured, delicate hands, and tried to imagine using them to earn a favor from a guy he sat next to in History class.

The nausea rolled in his gut. This was insane. He was a guy. A straight guy. And he was about to be thrown into a room full of his own frat brothers and told to flirt, dance, and potentially more to earn plastic coins.

“Dismissed,” the Head Sister barked. “Go to your rooms. Get changed. Dress to impress. If you look like you’re going to the library, don’t bother coming to the party. We won’t have you embarrassing us.”

The room erupted into chaos as girls scrambled to get to their rooms, chattering excitedly about strategy and outfits. Philip remained frozen on the couch for a second, his mind reeling.

“Come on, Ness,” Jack said, standing up and stretching Katy’s long limbs with a groan of satisfaction. He grabbed Philip’s hand and hauled him up. “Time to get pretty.”

Philip stumbled after him, his coordination still lagging behind Vanessa’s center of gravity. They made it to the sanctuary of the room Vanessa and Katy shared, Philip locking the door behind them the second they were inside. He leaned back against the wood, breathing hard.

“We can’t do this,” Philip said, his voice trembling slightly. “Did you hear her? ‘Hospitality' 'Above and beyond'? Jack, they want us to solicit guys for tokens!”

Jack laughed, kicking off his shoes and flopping onto Katy’s bed. He rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hands and kicking his feet in the air behind him. The movement was so naturally feminine, so quintessentially girl at a sleepover, that it freaked Philip out.

“Relax, dude. It’s a game,” Jack said, grinning. “And honestly? We have the ultimate cheat code. We aren't actually them. We don't have the emotional baggage. We can just play the part and hook up with a few dudes, absolutely guilt-free.”

“It’s not a game! It’s humiliating!” Philip pushed himself off the door and paced the room, his hands flying up to gesture wildly. “I am not going to flirt with Ryan Hale. I am not going to let some frat bro grab my ass for a red token. It’s wrong. It’s weird. And it’s… it’s jeopardizing Vanessa’s actual life! What if I do something she wouldn’t do? What if I ruin her reputation?”

Jack rolled his eyes, sitting up. “You worry too much. Look, if it freaks you out that much, I have a better idea.”

Jack stood up and walked over to where Philip was pacing. He moved with a predatory grace that Katy definitely didn't possess on a normal Tuesday. He stepped into Philip’s personal space, looming over him slightly. Katy was taller than Vanessa, and the height difference made Philip feel small and vulnerable in a way he wasn't used to.

“We bail,” Jack suggested, his voice dropping to a low, teasing purr. “We lock the door. We stay right here. We tell them we’re sick. And then…”
Jack reached out, his fingers tracing the line of Philip’s jaw. The touch was electric. Philip flinched, but he didn’t pull away. Vanessa’s skin felt hyper-sensitive, the nerve endings firing at the slightest contact.

“Then we pick up where we left off,” Jack whispered, leaning in closer. “We have hours, Phil. Hours to see what these bodies can do. Why waste that sweating downstairs in a room full of sweaty dudes when we could be having fun?”
Jack’s hand slid down Philip’s neck, his thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of his throat before drifting lower to graze the collar of Vanessa’s shirt. “Imagine,” Jack murmured. “I could show you exactly what Katy is capable of. And you could show me if Vanessa is as sensitive as she looks.”

Philip’s breath hitched. A wave of heat pulsed through him. Heavy, liquid, undeniable arousal. It wasn't his arousal. It couldn't be. It was Vanessa’s body responding to the proximity, to the touch, to the scent of Jack’s borrowed skin. His knees felt weak, his thighs trembling slightly.

For a second, just a split second, he considered it. It would be so easy. Safe. pleasurable. No tokens. No humiliation. Just sensation. Katy’s hands all over Vanessa’s body. Katy’s mouth suckling on a pink, peaked nipple, making Vanessa’s body squirm in pleasure.

But then the image of the Head Sister’s stern face flashed in his mind. Anyone under ten points is cut.

Philip grabbed Jack’s wrist and pushed his hand away. It took more willpower than he wanted to admit.

“No,” Philip said, his voice breathless but firm. “We can’t.”

Jack pouted, a playful, exaggerated expression on Katy’s face. “You’re no fun.”

“We’re not doing this for fun,” Philip insisted, stepping back to put some distance between them and the confusing heat radiating from Jack. “We put them in this position. If we bail now, they get cut from the sorority. Vanessa has wanted this for… I don’t know, probably forever, judging by how much Delta stuff is on her walls. We can’t ruin this for them just because we’re horny.”

Jack sighed, a long, dramatic exhale that blew a strand of hair out of his face. He stared at Philip for a moment, searching his eyes, before shrugging. The predatory tension evaporated, replaced by his usual goofy grin.

“Fine. You’re such a Boy Scout. Even when you’re a Girl Scout,” Jack teased. “We do the mixer. We get the tokens. We save the day. But I’m telling you, if I have to dance for a token, I’m making it count.”

Jack turned toward the wardrobe that spanned one wall of the room. He threw the doors open, revealing a packed rack of clothes. “If we’re going to do this, we have to look the part. Something hot enough to have the guys raining gold tokens down on us.”

Philip walked over, eyeing the clothes nervously. “We just need something nice and classy. Not something that screams I’m for sale.”

Jack rolled his eyes and started rifling through the hangers, tossing items onto the bed. “Boring. Boring. Grandma called, she wants her cardigan back. Aha!”

He pulled out a black outfit that looked less like clothing and more like a fever dream. It was a cowgirl style set. A tiny, plunge-front black top with silver studs and a matching pleated skirt that looked barely long enough to cover the essentials.

“No,” Philip said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” Jack countered, holding it up against Philip’s chest. He looked at the reflection in the mirror and whistled. “Damn, Phil. Vanessa is going to look lethal in this. It shows off the assets very nicely.” He gestured vaguely to Philip’s chest. “And the legs. You gotta play to her strengths.”

“It’s too much,” Philip argued, trying to snatch it away, but Jack held it out of reach. “I’ll look ridiculous. I’ll feel naked.”

“If Vanessa’s one of the first five to reach thirty points she’ll be so happy,” Jack pointed out logic that Philip really didn’t appreciate. “Come on. Live a little. When else are you going to get to walk into a room and have every guy’s jaw hit the floor? Don’t be a prude. You’d barely have to do more than wiggle your ass in this to get a token.”

Philip looked at the outfit, then at his reflection. Vanessa’s dark eyes stared back, wide and uncertain. But somewhere deep in the back of his mind there was a spark of curiosity. A tiny voice that wondered what it would feel like to be looked at like that. To be desired.

“Fine,” Philip groaned, defeated. “But you’re not wearing a turtleneck either.”

He shoved past Jack and dug through Katy’s side of the closet. He found a black and white checkered two-piece. A knit crop top and a matching mini-skirt. It was trendy, tight, and showed a sliver of midriff. “You wear this,” Philip commanded, tossing it at him.

Jack caught it, holding it up with a grin. “Checkered flag? I dig it. Racy.”

Philip stripped off the denim skirt blouse he’d been wearing. The air in the room felt cool against his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and legs. He stepped into the black skirt Jack had chosen. It sat high on his waist, the fabric barely skimming the bottom of Vanessa’s sexy, round ass cheeks.

Then he pulled on the top. It was a black, textured knit halter top that seemed designed specifically to induce a heart attack. The neckline plunged in a deep, aggressive V, lined with row upon row of silver studs that caught the light like warning flares. The entire structure was held together by a single, large silver ring at the center of her chest, a precarious anchor for such heavy machinery, while two studded strips of fabric hung down from it, dangling uselessly over the bare expanse of her midriff.

It was less of a shirt and more of a suggestion, pushing Vanessa’s breasts up and together in a way that felt entirely illegal. Philip had to adjust Vanessa’s breasts to fit them into the strips of fabric, a process that made his face burn and his breath hitch. The sensory input was overwhelming. The weight, the softness, the sensitivity of the nipples brushing against the fabric.

When he turned around to look in the mirror, his mouth went dry.

The girl in the reflection undeniably, breathtakingly hot. The top pushed her breasts up and together, creating a cleavage that drew the eye instantly. The skirt highlighted the curve of her hips and the smoothness of her legs.

Philip felt a flush of embarrassment, but beneath it, a dark, heavy pulse of arousal throbbed. He looked good. He felt powerful. And that thought terrified him.

“Damn,” Jack said from behind him.

Philip turned. Jack was dressed in the checkered set, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed. The outfit clung to Katy’s athletic frame, highlighting her toned stomach and strong legs.

“We look like trouble,” Jack said, a smirk playing on Katy’s lips. “At least I didn’t pick something boring like you did for me. But hey, I make anything look good.”

“I tried to pick something tasteful,” Philip muttered, tugging self-consciously at the hem of his skirt. “I feel like I’m going to flash everyone if I bend over.”

“Then don’t bend over,” Jack advised, walking over and throwing an arm around Philip’s shoulder. “Unless it’s for a gold token.”

Philip groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Jack corrected, steering him toward the door. “Now come on, Vanessa. Let’s go break some hearts.”

As they walked out into the hallway, the bass from the music thumped against the floorboards, vibrating up through the soles of Philip’s feet. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady Vanessa’s racing heart. He told himself he just wanted to get this over with. He told himself he was doing it for the girls. But as he felt the sway of his hips and the brush of the skirt against his thighs, Philip knew he was lying. He was terrified, yes. But he was also dying to see what happened next.

Approaching the common room of the Theta house felt like walking the plank, if the plank was carpeted in plush cream wool and the sharks were twenty-something guys holding red Solo cups.

Philip took short, quick breaths, Vannesa’s heart attempting to hammer its way out of her chest.

The black pleated skirt of his outfit was criminally short. Every step he took caused the fabric to swish high against his thighs, sending a draft of cool air up toward places that felt disturbingly exposed. He had to fight the urge to yank the hem down, knowing it was a losing battle. The skirt was designed to tease, not to cover.

Behind him, Jack, strutting in Katy’s body with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, leaned close to his ear. “Relax your shoulders,” Jack whispered, the checkered knit of his top brushing against Philip’s bare back. “You look like you’re marching to an execution. Vanessa glides. Try to glide.”

“I’m trying not to flash the entire brotherhood,” Philip hissed back, keeping his eyes on his heels. He was still getting used to the center of gravity in Vanessa’s body. The weight of her breasts pulled him forward, and the curve of her hips made his gait naturally sway in a way he hadn't mastered yet.

“Let them look,” Jack teased, his voice low and breathy. “That’s the point, remember? Tokens. We need eyes on us.” He paused, a mischievous glint in Katy’s brown eyes. “Besides, once we get these tokens, we can head back to the room. I haven’t forgotten where we left off.”

Philip felt a traitorous pulse of heat flare between Vanessa’s legs. The body’s reaction was instantaneous, a wet, heavy throb that had nothing to do with Philip’s mind and everything to do with the biology he was currently piloting. He shot Jack a glare, trying to summon some masculine authority, but it lost its edge when delivered by a 5-foot-tall girl with doe eyes and pouting lips.

“Focus, Jack. Serious mode.”

“I am serious,” Jack grinned, stepping into the foyer with a look of barely contained excitement. “Serious about exploring these bodies.”

The common room had been transformed. The furniture was pushed back, the lights were dimmed to a warm, golden haze, and the bass of a Top 40 hit thumped through the floorboards. The room was packed. Delta brothers in button-downs and polos mingled with Theta sisters who were dressed to kill.

The air was thick, a humid mix of cheap beer, expensive cologne, and the floral sweetness of dozens of perfumes. It was sensory overload. Philip flinched as the noise washed over him. In his old body, he would have faded into the background, grabbing a beer and finding a wall to lean on. In Vanessa’s body, fading into the background was impossible.

As soon as they stepped off the stairs, heads turned. Philip saw eyes track the plunge of his neckline, the bare expanse of his midriff, the curve of his legs. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

“Ladies!” A voice boomed. It was Trent. He was holding a beer, looking every bit the king of the castle. “Welcome to the jungle,” Trent smirked, his eyes lingering on Jack’s midriff before sliding over to Philip. “Looking to earn some favor tonight?”
Philip’s throat went dry. He opened his mouth, but his voice stuck.

Jack stepped in smoothly, flipping Katy’s blond hair over one shoulder. “We’re looking for whatever you’ve got, Trent. Blue, red… gold?”

Trent laughed, a deep, barking sound. “Gold? Slow down, tiger. You gotta walk before you can run. Let’s see some spirit first.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a blue token. “Blue token. Easy money. All you gotta do is bark.”

Philip blinked. “What?”

“Bark,” Trent repeated, his grin widening. “Like a dog. Loud. Let’s hear it.”

It was degrading. It was stupid. It was exactly the kind of hazing bullshit Philip hated. He stiffened, ready to tell Trent to shove his token where the sun didn’t shine. But then he remembered the stakes. Expulsion. The sorority sisters getting cut.
Jack nudged him hard in the ribs.

Philip closed his eyes, swallowed his pride, and let out a sharp, high-pitched “Woof!”

Trent looked unimpressed. “Weak. I can’t hear you over the music. I said bark.”

Philip felt his face burning. He channeled every ounce of frustration he felt into his chest and let it rip. “Woof! Woof!”

Trent chuckled and tossed the blue chip at him. It bounced off Vanessa’s cleavage and landed on the floor. Philip had to bend down to pick it up, his face flaming as he felt Trent’s eyes on his ass.

“Good girl,” Trent said dismissively, already turning to talk to someone else.

Philip clutched the plastic token in his hand, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt humiliated.

“One down,” Jack said cheerfully, snatching a token from another brother after doing a quick, energetic spin. “Twenty-nine to go. Come on, you need a drink.”

Jack steered him toward the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. Philip didn’t argue. His nerves were frayed, and the adrenaline was making his hands shake.

“I can’t do this,” Philip muttered as Jack handed him a red plastic cup filled with something pink and fizzy. “I’m a terrible girl. I just barked at a guy I have to tutor in Calculus.”

“Drink,” Jack ordered, clinking his cup against Philip’s. “It’s jungle juice. It’ll help.”

Philip took a sip. It was sweet, masking the harsh burn of cheap vodka. He took another, larger gulp. The liquid hit his stomach and seemed to diffuse instantly into his bloodstream.

“Whoa,” Philip murmured, blinking. “Does alcohol hit faster when you’re smaller?”

“Probably,” Jack shrugged, downing half his cup in one go. “Less blood volume or something. Science. Just ride the wave, Phil. Stop overthinking. Look at these guys. They’re simple creatures. They see tits, they see legs, they’re happy. You hold all the cards right now. You just have to play them.”

Philip looked down at himself. The top pushed Vanessa’s breasts together in a way that was frankly architectural. He took another long drink, feeling the buzz settle behind his eyes, softening the sharp edges of his anxiety.

“Okay,” Philip said, taking a deep breath. The scent of his own perfume, Vanessa’s perfume, filled his nose. It was jasmine and something musky. It smelled like sex. “Okay. Let’s get some points.”

They waded back into the crowd. The alcohol worked quickly, loosening the knot of tension in Philip’s chest. He found himself laughing when a guy from the rowing team asked him to tell a joke for a blue token.

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?” Philip asked, his voice sounding lighter, more melodic than he expected.

“Why?” the rower asked, grinning stupidly at Philip’s chest.

“Because he was outstanding in his field.”
It was a terrible dad joke but the rower still laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and handed over the token.

“You have a great smile,” the guy said, his hand lingering on Philip’s bare arm as he passed the coin.

Philip froze for a second. The guy’s hand was warm. Rough. And instead of the recoil Philip expected, the get off me, dude reaction, he felt a strange, electric zinger shoot up his arm and settle low in his belly.

It wasn’t just a physical sensation. It was an emotional one. A sudden flush of pleasure at being complimented, at being noticed. It felt good. Really good.

“Thanks,” Philip said, and to his horror, he felt his eyelashes flutter. He didn’t tell them to do that. They just did. As they walked away, Philip grabbed Jack’s arm. “Jack. Something’s weird.”

“We’re possessing girls to steal underwear. Everything is weird,” Jack replied, scanning the room for their next target.

“No, I mean… that guy touched me. And I liked it.” Philip whispered the words like a confession. “I felt giddy. And hot. Like, physically hot.”

Jack stopped, looking at Philip with a curious expression. He lowered his voice. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’ve been feeling it too. Katy’s body has preferences.”

“Preferences?”

“I just spent five minutes talking to the quarterback,” Jack admitted, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “And the whole time, my brain was screaming look at his forearms. I don’t care about forearms, Phil. But Katy? Apparently, she’s obsessed. It’s like, bleeding through. The more we drink, the more I feel like I’m in the passenger seat and she’s grabbing the wheel.”

Philip looked down at his drink. “The potion,” he muttered. “Or just the physiology. We’re swimming in their hormones.”

“Does it feel bad?” Jack asked, tilting his head.
Philip looked back at the rower, who was still watching him. Vanessa’s body hummed with a low-level frequency of want. It was a hunger Philip had never experienced. A desire to be held, to be pursued.

“I don’t know,” Philip said honestly. “It’s confusing. But it does make this easier.”

“Exactly,” Jack grinned, downing the rest of his drink. “Lean into it. Let Vanessa drive for a bit. She knows how to work a room better than you do.”

Philip finished his drink. The room spun slightly, pleasant and warm. He decided Jack was right. Why fight the current?

He earned a blue token from a sophomore by pretending to be into him for two minutes to make his ex jealous. He draped himself over the guy’s arm, giggling at his jokes, feeling the strange, fascinating contrast of the guy’s hard bicep against the softness of Vanessa’s breast.

He earned a red token from a massive linebacker by agreeing to play a round of beer pong where the loser had to take off an item of clothing. Philip won, Vanessa’s hand-eye coordination was surprisingly good. Philip stood with his hands on his hips, watching the guy take off his t-shirt. “Very nice,” he drawled, giving the guy a wink that made him turn beet red.

“You’re a natural,” Jack shouted over the music, slapping Philip on the ass.

Philip jumped, the sensation sending a jolt of shock and arousal through him. “Watch it!”

“Check the score,” Jack said, holding up their stash. They had a handful of blue tokens and two reds. Maybe ten points total.

“It’s not enough,” Philip realized, his buzz dampening slightly. “We need thirty each. The night’s half over. At this rate, we’ll be grinding for blue tokens until dawn.”

“We need bigger fish,” Jack agreed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. “We need the guys who want more than a joke.”

Philip followed his gaze. The party was getting rowdier. The requests were getting bolder. He saw a girl on a table, dancing while two guys cheered. He saw another girl taking a body shot off a guy’s abs.

“We have to step it up,” Jack said. “You ready to get a little dirty?”

Philip felt a flutter of nerves, but it was drowned out by the thrumming excitement in Vanessa’s veins. Her body wanted to dance. She wanted to be wild.

“I’m ready,” Philip said, and for the first time that night, he meant it.

They pushed their way toward the center of the room, where the energy was highest. A group of brothers were gathered around a table where shots were being poured.

“New challengers!” one of them shouted. It was a guy named Mike, a senior known for being a hard-ass. He held up a red token. “Double shot. No hands. Off each other.”

The crowd cheered. Philip looked at Jack. Jack shrugged, a wicked grin spreading across Katy’s face.

“You game, Ness?” Jack teased.

Philip stepped forward, the heels of his sandals clicking on the floor. He felt the eyes of the room on him again, but this time, he didn’t shrink away. He rolled his shoulders back, thrusting Vanessa’s chest forward.

“Line ‘em up,” Philip invited.

Mike poured salt into the hollow of Philip’s collarbone and balanced a lime wedge between Jack’s teeth. The intimacy of it, the heat of the room, the proximity of Katy’s face, the roar of the crowd, was intoxicating.

Jack leaned in, his breath hot against Philip’s skin as he licked the salt from Philip’s neck. Philip gasped, his head falling back, his body arching instinctively into the touch. It felt incredible. The wet rasp of the tongue, the shiver that cascaded down his spine, the way his nipples tightened against the itty-bitty top.

They did the shots, the tequila burning pleasantly on the way down. The room erupted in applause. Mike tossed them two red tokens.

“Nice work, ladies,” Mike leered.

Philip grabbed the tokens, his chest heaving. He felt flushed, dizzy, and alive. He looked at Jack, who was wiping his mouth, eyes bright and dilated.

They grinned at each other and kept working the room.

Philip, currently possessed by the spirit of the party, or perhaps just possessed by Vanessa’s lowered inhibitions, found himself in the center of a circle of cheering brothers. A lollipop, cherry red and sticky, was being held out by a sophomore named Brad who looked like he’d already had six too many beers.

“Don’t use your hands,” Brad shouted over the music, dangling the candy. “Make it look good, and the red token is yours.”

An hour ago, Philip would have slapped the candy out of his hand and stormed off. But an hour ago, Philip hadn’t consumed three cups of jungle juice, and Vanessa’s body hadn’t fully hijacked his nervous system. Now, the music seemed to vibrate directly in his hips, bypassing his brain entirely.

He leaned forward, his hands clasped behind his back, Vanessa’s chest pressing against the fabric of the black top in a way that made Brad’s eyes bulge. Philip took the lollipop into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sweet, artificial cherry flavor. He wasn’t trying to be seductive, he was just trying to get the damn token, but Vanessa’s body moved on autopilot. Her lips pursed, her eyes half-lidded, a soft hum vibrating in her throat that Philip felt rumble through his own chest.

The crowd roared and Brad dropped the red token into Vanessa’s cleavage with a shaking hand.

“Jesus,” Jack whispered in his ear as Philip pulled back, “You’re a menace. I think you just broke him.”

Philip laughed, the sound bright and breathless. He felt light. Untethered. “Twenty-four points,” he shouted back, waving the token. “We need six more. Just two reds. Or six blues.”

“The blues are gone,” Jack said, scanning the room. He looked disheveled in the best way. Katy’s hair was a wild halo around her face, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline and alcohol. “And the guys with the reds are passing out or tapped out. We’re going to have to go for gold, Phil.”

Philip looked around. Jack was right. The energy of the party was shifting from raucous fun to sloppy mess. People were coupling up, disappearing into corners or upstairs rooms. The easy tokens had been farmed.

A sudden, sharp pang of anxiety cut through Philip’s buzz. If they failed now, after everything, Vanessa would be cut. And worse, Philip would have to go back to being just Philip.

The thought surprised him. He pushed it away, focusing on the room.

And then he felt it. A pull. Like a hook in his navel, dragging his attention to the far corner near the heavy oak staircase.

Ryan Hale was still there. He hadn’t moved much all night, holding court like a king on his throne. He was nursing a drink, looking bored, his blue eyes scanning the room with a predatory intelligence that made everyone else look like children.

Philip’s breath hitched. Vanessa’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a thumping beat that echoed in his ears. The attraction was a physical weight. Philip felt his thighs clench, a slick, hot dampness gathering between his legs that made his panties feel sticky. He wanted to be near him. He wanted Ryan to look at him with those arrogant eyes and see Vanessa.

“We don’t need two reds,” Philip said, his voice dropping an octave, husky with a borrowed desire. “We need one Gold.”

Jack followed his gaze. “Ryan? You sure? That guy is intense. And he’s our TA. That’s a whole layer of weird I don’t know if you’re ready for.”

“I’m ready,” Philip said. And he realized, with a jolt of shock, that he wasn’t lying. The hesitation he’d felt earlier was being drowned out by the overwhelming, biological imperative of the body he was in. Vanessa wanted Ryan. And right now, Philip was Vanessa.

“Okay then,” Jack grinned, linking his arm through Philip’s. “Lead the way, boss.”

They navigated the crowded room, Philip moving with a newfound purpose. He didn’t weave through the crowd, he parted it. When they reached the corner, Ryan looked up. His gaze landed on Jack first, appreciating Katy’s athletic frame, before sliding to Philip.

His eyebrows went up. “Vanessa. Katy. I was wondering whether you two would make your way over here.”

Ryan’s voice was deep, smooth, and dripped with the kind of confidence that usually made Philip roll his eyes. Tonight, it made his knees weak.

“We heard you were holding out on the goods,” Philip said. He was surprised by his own boldness. He stepped into Ryan’s personal space, resting a hand on the back of the leather sofa. He felt the heat radiating off Ryan’s arm.

Ryan smirked, swirling the ice in his glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The gold tokens,” Jack said, leaning against the armrest, projecting Katy’s cool, slightly aloof vibe. “We need them. You have them. Let’s make a deal.”

Ryan laughed softly. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a single gold token. He flipped it over his knuckles like a magician. “These aren’t for charity,” Ryan said, his eyes locking onto Philip’s. “These are for exceptional performance.”

“We’re exceptional,” Philip said, his voice trembling slightly. He leaned closer, letting his hair fall forward, exposing the curve of his neck. He knew, instinctively, that it was a sensitive spot for Vanessa, and likely a visual trigger for Ryan. “What do you want, Ryan?”

Ryan’s gaze dropped to Philip’s lips, then lower, to the swell of his breasts in the tight black top. The hunger in his expression was raw.

“It’s too loud in here,” Ryan said, standing up. He towered over Philip, his height intimidating and thrilling in equal measure. “If you want the gold, you have to earn it. Upstairs. In private.”

Philip felt a cold splash of reality. Upstairs. Private. That meant sex. Or something close to it.
Jack looked at Philip, a silent question in his eyes. Are we really doing this?

Philip looked at the gold token in Ryan’s hand. Then he looked at Ryan’s mouth, feeling Vanessa’s nipples tightening at the thought of having them on her body.

“Lead the way,” Philip said.

The second floor hallway was dimmer, quieter. The air was cooler here, but Philip felt feverishly hot. With every step, the alcohol-induced fog cleared just enough for the magnitude of what was happening to hit him. He was about to go into a room with a man. He was about to do… things. Sexual things. To get a piece of plastic.
Philip stopped at the threshold of the bedroom, gesturing for Ryan to go inside. His feet felt like they were nailed to the floor.

Suddenly, the Vanessa filter flickered. He was Philip again. Philip, who liked girls. Philip, who was Jack’s best friend. Philip, who was currently wearing a skirt the size of a belt and contemplating a threesome with his teaching assistant.

Panic clawed at his throat. What am I doing? This is insane.

“Hey.”

Jack’s hand was on his shoulder. Philip jumped. Jack had stopped beside him, keeping his voice low so Ryan wouldn’t hear from inside the room.

“You okay?” Jack asked. The playfulness was gone from his face, replaced by genuine concern. He searched Philip’s eyes. “We can bail. Seriously. We have twenty-four points. That should be enough to scrape by. We don’t have to do this.”

Philip looked at Jack. He looked at Katy’s face. The soft features, the concern, the way her hair fell over her shoulder. Then he looked down at himself. He saw the curve of Vanessa’s breasts. He felt the phantom ache between his legs, the emptiness that felt like it was begging to be filled.
He realized he wasn’t scared of the sex. He was scared of how much he wanted it.

He’d spent the last few hours experiencing the world as Vanessa. The touches, the glances, the sensitivity of his skin, the way his body responded to stimuli he’d never understood before. He was curious. Morbidly, intensely curious.

He wanted to know what it felt like. Not just the teasing, not just the grinding on the dance floor. He wanted to know the rest. He wanted to feel what Vanessa felt when she looked at Ryan. He wanted to surrender to the sensation that had been building in his gut all night.

“I’m not bailing,” Philip whispered.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The fear transmuted into something sharper. Excitement.

“Okay. If you’re sure. Just follow my lead, I’ll take care of you,” Jack said.

Philip paused, looking at the open door. “I don’t want to just go along with it. I feel like I’ve been fighting her body all night. Trying to steer it. But maybe I should just drive it.”

Jack tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Philip said, a sudden surge of confidence straightening his spine. “I want to be in charge. If we’re doing this, I’m leading.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. A slow grin spread across his face, one of pure delight and a hint of pride.

“Damn, Phil,” Jack whispered. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” Philip admitted.

He adjusted the strap of his top, smoothed his skirt, and stepped through the doorway.

Ryan was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoes already kicked off. When Philip walked in, Ryan looked up, expecting two nervous pledges. Instead, he got Vanessa, eyes blazing with liquid courage and a feminine hunger that had finally been unleashed.

“Lock the door, Katy,” Philip said, his voice steady.
Ryan paused, his hands freezing on his belt buckle. He looked from Vanessa to Katy, sensing the shift in the dynamic. He smiled, slow and dangerous.

“Well,” Ryan murmured. “This just got interesting.” He watched them with a look that hovered somewhere between amusement and genuine intrigue.

“You know,” Ryan said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that vibrated in the quiet room. “If you two are just looking for some points, you don’t have to force it. I can give you each a red token just for the view.”

Philip felt a flash of irritation, sharp and immediate, spike through him. It was Vanessa’s pride, he realized. She didn’t want a handout. She wanted to win. And Philip, currently riding the high of adrenaline and vodka, didn’t want the easy way out either.

“We don’t want a red token,” Philip said, sashaying over to him. He placed a hand on Ryan’s chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart beneath the white cotton shirt. “And we’re not forcing anything.”

Philip shoved gently, and Ryan, surprised by the strength behind the slender hand, let himself be pushed back.

“Stay there,” Philip commanded.

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up, but a smirk played on his lips. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

Philip stepped back, putting a few feet of distance between them. The room was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp. He was surprised when he found himself start to sway.

It wasn't a conscious decision to dance. It was more like surrendering to the hum of energy that had been buzzing under Vanessa’s skin all night. He undulated his hips in a slow, rolling motion that felt entirely foreign to his mind but perfectly natural to his borrowed anatomy.

Philip hooked a finger around the large silver ring connecting the halves of the black halter top. He locked eyes with Ryan, whose gaze had darkened, losing its mocking edge.

Slowly, deliberately, Philip lifted the garment. The air in the room was already cool against his bare midriff, but the sensation intensified as he pulled the strap up and over his head. The silver studs flashed in the dim light, and the textured fabric slid away, freeing Vanessa’s breasts from the flimsy constraint to leave her completely exposed.
He dropped the top to the floor and Ryan leaned forward, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch the pale, soft skin of Philip’s waist.
Philip batted Ryan’s hand away with a stinging slap.

“Ah-ah,” Philip tutted, wagging a finger. “Look. Don’t touch. I’ll see if I feel like letting you play with me later.”

Ryan recoiled, rubbing his hand, but his eyes were blazing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Vanessa.”

“I make the rules,” Philip retorted. The words tasted sweet. He felt powerful. He turned around, giving Ryan a full view of Vanessa’s backside, and bent over slowly, ostensibly to adjust his high-heeled sandal, but really to let the skirt ride up just enough to tease the lace of the panties underneath.

He heard Ryan groan.

When Philip straightened and turned back, he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Jack was standing near the door, leaning against the wall. He hadn’t moved closer, but he was far from a passive observer. One of his hands was buried deep between his legs, rubbing frantically against the checkered fabric of Katy’s skirt. His mouth was slightly open, eyes glazed and fixed on Philip’s chest.

The sight sent a jolt of arousal straight to Philip’s groin. A wet, clenching sensation that made his knees weak.

Philip crooked a finger, beckoning him closer.
“Katy. Come here.”

Jack pushed off the wall, stumbling slightly as he crossed the room. He looked wrecked. Hair messy, lips swollen from biting them, totally lost in the sensation of Katy’s body.

When Jack reached them, Philip reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand out from between his legs. Jack’s fingers were glistening, wet with the evidence of his excitement.
Without breaking eye contact with him, Philip brought Jack’s fingers to his mouth.

He licked them. Vanessa’s tongue darting out delicately to drag slowly along each of Jack’s shiny fingers.

The taste was salty, musky, and distinctly female. It was shocking, a visceral reminder of exactly what they were doing, but Philip didn’t pull away. He sucked Jack’s index finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, tasting the essence of the girl his best friend was inhabiting.

Jack whimpered, a high, feminine sound that seemed to crack the air in the room.

“Good?” Philip asked, popping the finger out of his mouth with a wet sound.

Jack nodded breathlessly. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

Philip turned his attention back to Ryan, who was gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles were white. The bulge in Ryan’s jeans was impossible to miss now, straining against the denim.

“You want to watch?” Philip asked Ryan, stepping into the V of his spread legs.

“I’m already watching,” Ryan rasped.

Philip turned around and sat down on Ryan’s lap.
The contact was electric. Philip felt the hardness of Ryan’s cock pressing against his ass cheek, a solid bar of heat. It felt different than he expected. Harder, more substantial. Vanessa’s body reacted instantly, her hips grinding back against him instinctively, seeking friction.

But Philip wasn’t done with Jack. He pulled Jack closer, positioning him between Ryan’s spread knees, right in front of them.

“Strip,” Philip ordered softly.

Jack didn’t hesitate. He shoved the checkered skirt down, stepping out of it with clumsy haste. He wasn’t wearing panties, which was very on brand for Jack.

The sight of Katy’s bare pussy, framed by her athletic thighs, was jarring. It was right there at Philip’s eye level. He could smell the arousal now, heavy and sweet in the air, mixing with the scent of Ryan’s cologne and their sweat.

Philip leaned forward, resting his hands on Jack’s hips to steady him. He could feel Ryan’s breath on the back of his neck, hot and rapid. He could feel Ryan’s hands hovering near his waist, obeying the rule but desperate to break it.

Philip opened his mouth and pressed his face against the glorious vagina in front of him. The sensation was overwhelming. Soft wet heat. Philip had gone down on a few girls before, but never like this. Never with the heightened sensitivity of a female mouth, never with the empathic connection of knowing exactly what the other person was feeling.

He licked, a long, broad stroke from bottom to top. Jack gasped, his hands flying up to grip Philip’s hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. “Oh my god. Ness. Don’t stop.”

Philip didn’t stop. He found the rhythm easily, his tongue teasing the clit while he used his fingers to spread the lips wider. He could feel Jack’s hips bucking against his face in a desperate, jerky rhythm.

Behind him, Ryan was shifting. The friction of Philip’s ass rubbing against his lap as he worked on Jack was driving him crazy.

“Fuck,” Ryan hissed, his voice strained. “You two are insane.”

Philip ignored him, focusing entirely on the task at hand. He felt a strange sense of pride as he heard Jack’s breathing hitch, spiraling toward a peak. He sucked harder, using the suction that he knew, from Vanessa’s own instincts, felt good.
Jack’s thighs clamped tight against Philip’s ears.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna-” Jack stammered.

Philip felt the tremors start in Jack’s legs a second before the climax hit. Jack cried out, a loud, uninhibited wail that surely penetrated the thin walls. Philip kept going, drinking in the reaction, feeling the pulses of the orgasm against his tongue until Jack finally sagged, his knees giving out.

Philip caught him, propping him up as Jack panted, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Okay,” Jack breathed, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead. “Okay. That was… holy shit.”

Philip pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt smug. He felt powerful. He turned his head to look at Ryan over his shoulder.

“Your turn,” Philip whispered. The teasing was over. The hunger in the room had sharpened into something predatory.

Philip and Jack moved in tandem, like they had rehearsed this a thousand times. Jack went for the buttons of Ryan’s shirt, his fingers flying. Philip went for the belt. He shoved the denim down, taking the boxer briefs with them. Ryan kicked them off, lying naked before them.

He was quite impressive. Philip tried to look at him objectively, as a guy sizing up another guy, but Vanessa’s brain wouldn’t let him. Instead of competitive assessment, Philip felt a wave of pure want.

Ryan’s cock was fully erect, standing straight up from a patch of dark hair, glistening slightly at the tip. It looked thick. Heavy. Veins traced the length of it, pulsing with his heartbeat. Philip felt his mouth water. Literally. Saliva flooded his mouth, and a phantom sensation echoed in his throat, a desire to be full, to be stretched. It was a biological imperative so strong it nearly buckled his knees.

I need that, the thought flashed through his mind, alien and yet completely his own.

Jack was already dropping to his knees. He looked up at Philip, his eyes dark with the same lust Philip felt.

“Sharing is caring,” Jack said, a wicked grin on his lips. Philip dropped to his knees beside him. The carpet was rough against his bare skin, but he didn’t care.

Jack went first, taking the head of Ryan’s cock into his mouth with a greedy hum. Ryan groaned, his hands coming down to rest on both of their heads. His fingers tangled in Philip’s hair, the grip firm and possessive.

Philip watched Jack work for a second, admiring the way his cheek hollowed, the bob of his throat, before he couldn’t wait anymore.

He leaned in and licked the underside of the shaft, tasting the salt of Ryan’s skin. It was hot. Hard. The contrast between the velvet-soft skin and the rock-hard muscle beneath was fascinating.

“God,” Ryan choked out, looking down at them. “Both of you. Yes.”

They found a rhythm. Jack took the head and Philip licked the balls, humming against the sensitive skin. Then they switched.

When Philip took Ryan into his mouth, the sensation was mind-blowing. His cock was heavy on Philip’s tongue and the taste was distinctly musky and male, almost overpowering. He bobbed his head, experimenting with the depth, delighted by the way Ryan’s hips snapped forward to meet him.

He felt entirely in tune with Vanessa’s body. Every sound Ryan made sent a vibration through Philip’s chest. The friction of his breasts brushing against Jack’s arm as they crowded together added another layer of sensory input. Soft against soft, while they worshiped the hard dick in front of them.

His pussy was soaking wet. He could feel it dripping, the slickness coating his thighs. He ground his hips against the back of his heel, desperate for some kind of relief, but the act of pleasing Ryan was its own kind of high.

“Don’t stop,” Ryan commanded, his voice ragged. “I’m close. Don’t you dare stop.”

Philip didn’t want to stop. He used his hand to stroke the base of the shaft while Jack sucked harder. He looked across at Jack, their eyes meeting over Ryan’s cock. Jack looked wrecked, mascara smudged, eyes wild.

They were in this together. Two guys, best friends, currently making their TA see stars in the body of sorority girls. It was absurd. It was the hottest thing Philip had ever done.

Ryan’s hips began to stutter. His grip on Philip’s hair tightened to the point of pain, but the pain only fed the pleasure.

“I’m cumming,” Ryan warned, a guttural growl.
He didn’t pull out.

Jack kept sucking until Ryan screamed, swallowing the first burst of his ejaculation. He didn’t go far once he did release Ryan’s cock, both he and Philip watching in wonder as a rope of semen hit Philip’s cheek, hot and thick. He gasped, the shock of the temperature startling him. Ryan groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of release, as he continued erupting.

The spurts went everywhere. Across Jack’s nose. Into Philip’s hair. Splattered across the tops of their breasts, white against the tan skin. They stayed there for a moment, frozen in the tableau of the aftermath. The only sound was Ryan’s heavy breathing and the wet sound of Philip swallowing.

Ryan flopped back on the bed, leaving Philip and Jack kneeling on the floor, covered in his jizz.
Philip reached up, wiping a streak of cum from his jaw with his finger. He looked at it, then at Jack.
Jack had a glob of it caught in his eyelashes. He blinked, looking dazed.

Then, slowly, they both started to giggle.

It started as a snicker from Jack, then a breathless laugh from Philip, bubbling up from the sheer absurdity and the crashing wave of endorphins.

“You have-” Philip pointed at Jack’s face, shaking with laughter. “You have some on your nose.”

“You have it in your hair,” Jack shot back, grinning wildly.

Philip fell back onto his heels, chest heaving. He felt sticky, messy, and thoroughly used. And god help him, he wanted more.

Ryan’s release had left the room heavy with the scent of sex. Bleach and musk, sharp against the underlying sweetness of Vanessa’s perfume.

Philip was still catching his breath, kneeling on the carpet, when Jack leaned in. There was a smear of white on Jack’s lower lip, a stray drop from Ryan’s climax. Instead of wiping it away, Jack’s tongue darted out, catching the droplet and pulling it into his mouth with a deliberate, slow swallow.
Philip’s eyes widened. “Did you just…?”

Jack didn’t answer with words. A mischievous glint lit up Katy’s brown eyes, transforming her face into something wicked. He grabbed Philip by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the sweat-damp hair, and pulled him into a crushing kiss.

Philip gasped against Jack’s mouth, expecting… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. But what he got was the slick slide of Jack’s tongue and the distinct, salty-bitter taste of Ryan’s sperm. It was shocking, gross, and incredibly hot all at once. The snowball transferred between them, a shared fluid that blurred the lines of who they were and whose pleasure this was.

Philip moaned, his hesitation evaporating. He kissed back, hard. His hands roamed over Jack’s bare back, reveling in the softness of Katy’s skin, the curve of her spine. It was a dizzying loop of sensation.

They collapsed sideways onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and hair. Philip ended up on top, straddling Jack’s hips, grinding down to seek friction against Katy’s wet minge.

“Hey,” a deep voice interrupted. “Don’t start the party without me.”

Philip looked up. Ryan was on his feet, tearing open a foil packet with his teeth. He was hard again, and the sight of the condom rolling down the length of his shaft sent a fresh spike of need through Philip’s borrowed body.

Ryan grabbed Philip by the waist and flipped him over onto his hands and knees. Philip let out a yelp of surprise that turned into a purr as he felt the cool air hit his exposed backside.

“Arch your back,” Ryan commanded, his hand flattening against the small of Philip’s back, pushing him down until his cheek pressed against the duvet.

Philip obeyed instantly. He felt Ryan flipping up the short pleated skirt. The only thing in the way now was a scrap of black lace panties that were already soaked through. Ryan didn’t bother taking them off. He just hooked a finger into the crotch and pulled the fabric aside, the elastic digging into Philip’s hip.

Then, the head of Ryan’s cock pressed against his opening.

It wasn’t the tight, resistant pressure Philip would have felt in his own body. It was a wet, yielding heat. Ryan pushed forward, and Philip felt himself open.

“Oh, god!” Philip cried out, the sound high and shattered.

The sensation was indescribable. It was a feeling of being filled, stretched, and occupied. Every inch Ryan claimed sent a shockwave of pleasure radiating outward from his core. It wasn’t just friction, it was an internal caress that hit nerves Philip didn’t even know existed.

Ryan established a rhythm, snapping his hips forward. Slap. Slap. Slap. The sound of skin against skin was loud in the room.

Philip squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed. He felt the weight of Vanessa’s breasts swaying with each thrust, the nipples dragging against the sheets. He felt the heavy, rhythmic thud of Ryan’s balls against his ass.

Jack crawled across the bed, moving like a cat. He slid underneath Philip’s chest, lying on his back so they were face-to-face.

“Look at you,” Jack whispered, his eyes dark. “Taking it like a champ.”

Jack reached up and cupped Philip’s breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

The connection between his nipples and his clit was like a live wire. Philip screamed, his head thrown back, as the dual stimulation overloaded his brain. He was being fucked from behind and suckled from the front, trapped in a sensory sandwich that obliterated every thought except more, more, more.

Ryan’s breathing was ragged behind him. “You’re so tight. Fuck, Vanessa.”

Philip felt the pressure building. A coiling tension low in his belly that was sharper and more intense than anything he’d felt as a guy. It was a full-body ache, a desperate need to clench around the thing filling him.

“I’m gonna-” Philip gasped, his fingernails digging into Jack’s shoulders.

Just as the edge of the cliff came into view, Ryan pulled out. The loss was immediate and devastating. Philip whimpered, an empty, hollow feeling replacing the fullness.

“Not yet,” Ryan growled.

He grabbed Jack by the ankles and dragged him down the bed. Jack went willingly, spreading his legs wide. Ryan didn’t hesitate, he drove into Jack in one smooth motion.

Philip watched, dazed. Seeing Katy’s body, occupied by his best friend, being taken like that was a voyeuristic thrill he hadn’t anticipated. He watched Jack’s head toss back, and watched the way Katy’s toes curled.

But Ryan hadn’t forgotten him.

As he thrust into Jack, Ryan reached out a hand and found Philip. He slipped two fingers inside Philip’s still-gaping pussy, hooking upward in a come hither motion.

Philip groaned wantonly, collapsing on to his back, head rolled to the side, watching the sex while Ryan’s fingers fucked him in time with his thrusts into Jack.

The sight of Jack’s pleasure, the glazed eyes, the open mouth, the way his tits bounced with the impact, mirrored Philip’s own internal sensation. It was a feedback loop of arousal.

Philip leaned forward, dragging himself across the sheets until he could kiss Jack. Their tongues met messily, moans vibrating between their mouths, while Ryan used their bodies for his own pleasure.

“I’m close,” Jack panted against Philip’s lips.

“Me too,” Ryan grunted.

Ryan pulled out of Jack and grabbed Philip by the hips again. He drove back inside Vanessa’s body, harder this time, deeper.

Philip wrapped his legs around Ryan’s waist, pulling him closer, needing to eliminate every millimeter of space between them. The friction was unbearable. The wet, slapping sounds, the smell of sweat and latex, the sight of Ryan straining above him, it all coalesced into a blinding white light.

“Ryan!” Philip screamed.

The orgasm hit him like a physical blow. His inner muscles clamped down on Ryan’s cock, milking him in spasms that went on and on. He felt his toes curl, his vision spotting.

Ryan shouted, riding the wave of Philip’s climax to find his own, pounding into him for a final few strokes before collapsing on top of him.

Jack, lying next to them, let out a cry of his own, touching himself to finish off what Ryan had started, his body shuddering as he came on the sheets.

The rest of the night blurred into a haze of sweat, skin, and motion.

They lost track of time. They lost track of tokens. The goal of the evening had shifted entirely from initiation to endurance.

They rotated positions like clockwork. At one point, Philip found himself straddling Ryan’s face, his thighs trembling as Ryan’s tongue worked him over with relentless efficiency. He looked back to see Jack riding Ryan’s cock, bouncing up and down in a cowgirl rhythm that made Katy’s ponytail whip back and forth.

Later, they were in a tangle of limbs, Philip and Jack sixty-nining while Ryan fucked Jack from behind. The taste of Jack’s pussy was familiar now, almost comforting, a sweet anchor in the storm of sensation.

At some point, in the darkest hour of the night, Ryan paused.

“I’m out,” Ryan breathed, checking the box on the nightstand. “No more condoms.”

Philip lay on the bed, his hair plastered to his forehead, his body slick with sweat. He felt Vanessa’s body humming, a raw, open nerve that refused to be satisfied.

“I don’t care,” Philip said, the words slurring slightly. He reached out, grabbing Ryan’s hand and pulling him back. “I’m on the pill. Just keep fucking me.”

Ryan didn’t need to be told twice.

The sensation of skin-on-skin was the final straw. The warmth, the texture, the intimacy of it was too much. Philip felt himself dissolving, his consciousness fading into the white noise of pure pleasure.

He climaxed one last time, a dark, heavy wave that pulled him under.

The last thing he remembered was the smell of Ryan’s skin and the feeling of Jack’s hand holding his.

The next thing Philip was aware of was an over-abundance of light.

Philip groaned, rolling over. His head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache, and his mouth tasted like he’d licked a carpet.

He reached out, expecting to feel the soft, high-thread-count sheets of Vanessa’s bed. Instead, his hand brushed against the scratchy polyester of a dorm mattress.

Philip’s eyes snapped open.

He was staring at a popcorn ceiling. A familiar water stain looked back at him.

He sat up, the movement stiff and jerky. He looked down at his chest. Missing the weight of soft breasts swaying there.

Completely flat with a smattering of hair.
He grabbed his crotch and a distinct, semi-hard bulge greeted his hand.

“No pussy,” Philip croaked. His voice was deep, gravelly with sleep. His own voice.

He was back. He was Philip again.

For a moment, relief washed over him. The confusing, overwhelming storm of estrogen and emotions was gone. But almost immediately, it was replaced by a hollow ache. The softness was gone. The heightening of his senses had dulled back to standard definition.

And then, the memories hit him.

The lollipop. The striptease. Ryan. The taste of… everything.

“Oh my god,” Philip whispered, burying his face in his hands. “We actually did that.”

He remembered the threesome in vivid, technicolor detail. He remembered begging for it. He remembered the feeling of being filled.
Guilt pricked at him. They had hijacked Vanessa and Katy’s bodies and used them for a joyride that went way beyond stealing underwear.
Underwear.

Philip froze. The blood drained from his face.
“The panties,” he gasped.

He patted his pockets. He was wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. No panties.

They had been so distracted by the gold tokens and the sex that they had forgotten the one thing they went there for.

“We fucked up,” Philip said to the empty room.
His head whipped in the direction of the door when he heard the handle turning.

Jack walked in. He was wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie, holding two coffees. He looked tired, but he was grinning.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jack said, kicking the door shut.

“Jack, we screwed up!” Philip practically shouted, rushing over to him. “We forgot the proof! We were too busy, you know, messing around with Ryan, and we didn’t get the underwear! We’re going to have to pledge again next semester. I can’t do it, Jack. I can’t scrub another toilet.”

Jack took a sip of his coffee, unbothered. “Relax, Phil. You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling! I’m reacting appropriately to a disaster!”

“It’s not a disaster,” Jack said calmly. He set the coffees down on the desk. Then, he reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a scrap of black lace. Then, a pair of white cotton briefs. He dangled them from his finger like trophies.

Philip stared at them, his mouth falling open. “You… how? When?”

“Grabbed them during the party and stashed them in some bushes outside,” Jack said with a wink. “Just before you turned into a total slut. I’m responsible like that.”

Philip let out a long, shuddering breath, his knees actually buckling with relief. He slumped against the desk. “You are a genius. An absolute, evil genius.”

“I know,” Jack agreed. “And a hell of a wingwoman.”

Philip laughed, the sound bordered on hysterical. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jack in a fierce hug. “Thank you. Seriously.”

For a second, it was just a bro hug. But then, Philip felt it. The pressure of his own morning wood, still lingering, pressing against Jack’s leg. And he felt Jack’s body reacting. They pulled apart instantly, stepping back to opposite sides of the room. The air was suddenly thick with awkward tension.

“So,” Jack coughed, adjusting his shorts. “That was wild.”

“Yeah,” Philip said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wild.”

“We should probably set some ground rules?” Jack suggested, not meeting his eyes.

“Definitely,” Philip agreed quickly. “What happens in Theta house, stays in Theta house. When we’re guys, we’re guys. Platonic. Bros.”

“Right. Bros,” Jack nodded. “But when we’re girls…”
A grin tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth.

“When we’re girls,” Philip finished, feeling a spark of that borrowed excitement flare up again, “We play.”

“Good,” Jack said. He picked up his coffee again, leaning back against the doorframe. “Because I was thinking about next time.”

He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small Ziploc bag. Inside, two distinct clumps of hair were visible. One dark and silky. One brown with blonde highlights.

“I grabbed a few extra souvenirs,” Jack said, his eyes glittering. “And I was thinking maybe we switch next time? You seemed to really like Katy’s ass.”

Philip looked at the bag. He remembered the feeling of Katy’s hair brushing his face. He remembered the power in her legs.

“Next time,” Philip said, a smile spreading across his face. “I call Katy.”