Davis has since graduated and moved to England. Now Matt is heartily welcomed into the ranks of Alpha Theta Nu as a legacy. It's something he's wanted since junior high, but there's something wrong. As ever fraternity seems to take the pledges further down the road of feminization, Matt begins to believe that there is more to things than meets the eye.
It's a feminization title with a dark mystery hanging over head. Can Matt find out what's happening before it's too late? This story is mostly female domination, but in the end it will feature plenty of forced feminization and humiliation action too. Here's a snippet with an old friend some of you may recognize from Welcome to College or Calendar Girl:
Lauren called out "You should see his legs!" and the derisive laughter went on for a good two or three minutes as I sat there flushed—much to the amusement of the girls on either side of me. At the end of class, I stormed up to the front of the room to talk to Professor Shepherd.
"You know," I said putting my things down on her desk loudly so she would look up, "I did not appreciate that."
"Didn't appreciate what?" she asked with faux innocence.
"Calling attention to my pledge attire," I replied.
"Oh, so you're being hazed? That's a serious charge, you know. Your fraternity could lose their charter!"
"No," I said turning ashen white. The university's anti-hazing policy had never occurred to me.
"So, why were you wearing a bra—a stuffed bra to my class then?" she asked.
"I...I…uh," I stammered.
"Was it because you like wearing a bra and you wanted to wear it?"
"Uhm yeah," I said.
"So you're pledging Alpha Theta Nu?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, they've got quite a reputation," she said. "Anyway, if you're a transgendered student who is wearing a bra because you feel comfortable doing so, and not because anybody is making you, the university has a very strict policy there too. The faculty shall in no way impede the expression of your perceived gender."
"Yeah, that's it," I said, almost relieved.
"What was that Ms. Hastings said about your legs?"
"I'm wearing pantyhose too, ma'am," I whispered.
"There's no need to whisper Mr. Landon. Everybody else has left. In fact, show me. Drop your pants and show me your pantyhose. I assume you’re wearing panties too?"
"I can't! I'm pretty sure that you would get in big trouble if anybody saw that," I replied, making the horrible mistake of issuing this veiled threat.
"So you don't feel comfortable expressing your true gender or are being forced to wear these things?" she asked, her tone suddenly harsh again.
Reluctantly, without a word, I did as I was told. I stepped back and she gestured to me to kick off my pants. "Are you happy?" I asked.
"I'm ecstatic. You may put your pants back on," she instructed. "I really like that pattern, by the way."
I hurriedly began to put my clothes back on. "You don't have a right to do this, you know."
"I'm sorry Mr. Landon. Maybe I did cross the line. Doesn't it suck to go to class wanting to learn and teach and freely exchange ideas about great literature and poetry only to have someone disregard your thoughts and opinions? To stare at your body and check out your legs and breasts the whole time they're in that class with you?"
"I...uh…I," I stammered. Damn, she was right.
"I'll make it easy for you. I won't go to the administration with allegations of hazing if you don't want me to."
"Thank you Professor Shepherd. I promise to be more focused in class. It's just that you're very bea--," I said excitedly before she interjected.
"However, so you don't have to drop your pants again, I want you to wear shorts to my class as long as you are wearing pantyhose just so I can make sure you aren't being hazed," she ordered.
"No! I can't," I shook my head.
"It's your choice, but if you don't want me going to Dean Morris, you will also start keeping your legs shaved so that they look good in your hose."
I was now nearly in tears. The humiliation I felt today would only be far worse when I came to class like that. I turned to walk quickly to the door meekly saying, “Thank you Professor."
"Don't forget your text books and your...Barbie notebooks," she stopped me snickering as she noticed the contents of my shopping bag.