The Rush Ch. 01: The Hazing Begins

But just then, Oliver announced that he was going to cum -- he pulled out and jizzed thick ropes of cum on Rodger's face. His semen got into Rodger's hair and eyebrows, and a good bit into his mouth. Rodger was surprised to find he didn't mind the taste.

"You are a natural cocksucker," Oliver said fondly, settling back in the tub.

Rodger was grabbing toilet paper to wipe the cum off his face. "And nobody hears about this?"

"I promise," Oliver affirmed.

The guys who had finished their Tasks were back mingling in the yard. There was a keg or two left, and Rodger was sipping on warm beer with Zach Wu and Damon, the redhead.

"My task to was bring my brother an eighth of weed. I already had it on me," Zach was telling them.

"That's so lucky," said Damon. "Mine was to livestream myself jerking off until I came. So I just made a random throwaway account and streamed to no one. But I was so nervous it took me like, 45 minutes to finish. No one viewed... but it was still kind of a thrill."

That had reminded Rodger of Kevan's Task. He pulled out his phone to check his friends' stories -- nothing from Kev. A few minutes later, Lance returned to the yard with his popsicle stick bridge. "It holds no more than 16 pounds," he told us, "but it passes."

"Well done," said Rodger.

"How was bath time?"

Rodger shrugged. "Just the guy being goofy. It was fine."

It was getting close to 11 p.m., and only about a quarter of the pledges had returned. Rodger was relieved to see Tony get back at around a quarter past. "Cannoli were not the smartest choice on a time crunch, but they were a big hit."

"Nice, man," Rodger said. "I hope Kevan's okay." He pulled out his phone again and refreshed the stories. There it was -- the little ring around Kevan's picture. Rodger tapped it and was greeted with a black screen that read "Story deleted." He had just missed it.

As midnight approached, Kevan returned, along with many of the other pledges. A lot of them seemed distressed -- word through the grapevine sounded like a lot of the guys had failed their Tasks. Kevan, however, was over the moon: "Zero views! I timed it perfectly. It was when everyone was mid-party, post-pregame and pre-hookup. No one looking at their phones."

It seemed like most of the pledges had returned, and a lot of the brothers were filtering back into the yard as well. When the clock hit midnight, one of Kyle's subordinates announced the boys who hadn't made the cut. They had either failed their Tasks or done such a poor job as to be disqualified. After the culling, a scant two score remained.

Kyle took over from his deputy. "All, it's time we told you that there are 24 spots open this year. The next round of cuts will be the final one. 15 of you will be cut, and the rest will be admitted as brothers."

A curt round of applause. Everyone was exhausted from the march and their Tasks. Even the brothers were weary from a long day of heavy drinking. Rodger took another sip of his beer.

Kyle continued, "We've focused on your charisma, your strength, and your loyalty. But you need to be strong of spirit as well. At SPH, we work hard and play hard. We can't have our men making any party fouls, especially not in front of girls. So, this last task is simple. You are all going to keep drinking. Our brothers will make sure everyone is taking in their fair share. The first 15 pledges to puke, pass out, or otherwise lose control of themselves -- cut."

Rodger's stomach dropped. He'd partied some in high school, but was never a huge drinker. He knew guys like Lance had been binge drinking for years already. Rodger was suddenly at a disadvantage. All the same, he just kept telling himself to keep it together for one night.

One of the brothers, a short, boyish baseball player named Quinn, walked over to Rodger and his friends with a handle of Captain Morgan. "Boys, I've heard you like rum," he greeted with a grin.

"That we do," Tony replied enthusiastically.

"I thought we could play my favorite game," said Quinn. "And get through this bottle together."

The lads exchanged glances with each other. At the end of the day, they knew they didn't really have a choice. Quinn hadn't been the most involved with rush so far, so they didn't have a good read on him yet. Finally, Lance just said, "Sure."

Quinn motioned for the boys to join him around the cracked plastic table nearby. He placed a red cup in front of every guy, and an empty beer bottle in the middle. "The rules are simple," he explained. "Before every round, we all take a shot. Then, we spin the bottle and play truth or dare." He uncapped the bottle of rum and poured a few generous glugs into each cup. "By the way, I'm really good at telling when people are lying. Bottoms up!"

Rodger tried to shoot as much of the rum down his throat as he could without tasting it. It worked; the first shot was not so bad. He looked around and saw that the brothers had pulled all the pledges into small groups to play drinking games.

Quinn reached into the middle of the table and gave the bottle its inaugural spin. After what felt like ten full minutes, the bottle finally settled on Lance.

"Truth," chose Lance.

"Okay," said Quinn, "how long did you last the first time you had sex?"

Lance turned red. "I don't know, like 30 minutes?"

"I can tell you're lying."

"2 minutes, barely. But I was like 15 and had no refractory period, so the second round was longer."

"How long?"

"... 5 minutes."

Quinn grinned. "Alright man, good on you. Honesty is a big part of loyalty. And bravery is part of strength. That's what makes Truth or Dare such a good rush game... as long as you all play fair."

Quinn poured them all another round of generous shots, and it was Lance's turn to spin the bottle. It landed on Tony, who chose dare.

"Alright, Tone," said Lance. "I dare you to text the last girl you fucked asking for a performance review."

Tony chuckled and pulled out his phone. Last weekend, he'd made it with Myra, a petit brunette girl who couldn't stop laughing at his jokes. He sent her a message asking her to rate his fucking, to which she replied a few minutes later, "8/10."

Kevan and Rodger whooped. "Way to go, Tone!"

"I gotta say I'm surprised," said Lance. "But good for you."

The group played many more rounds, drinking bigger and bigger shots as they went. Tony asked Kevan if he'd ever done coke ("No"), Kevan dared Rodger to do 10 pushups, Rodger asked Lance his ACT score (24), Lance dared Quinn to sing the school fight song, and on they went.

They had finished the bottle of rum, and Quinn was pouring a hodgepodge shot from the bottom of a few leftover liquor bottles. "Guess this is the last round," he said with a belch.

At that point in the evening, the first five boys had already been eliminated. All of them threw up after forcing down a shot they weren't ready for. But as a group, the pledges were now extremely drunk. For his part, Rodger was not feeling as off-kilter as he had feared, but he was definitely smashed. He knew all he had to do was stay awake and stay the course, but he also knew it would only get harder as the night went on. They were quickly approaching sunrise.

Quinn gave the bottle one last hearty spin, and it landed dead straight on Rodger. "Okay, Rodge," said Quinn, "truth or dare?"

"Truth," said Rodger.

"Alright," Quinn thought for a moment. "Let's go out with a bang. Tell us about your sexiest lay. In detail. Make us feel like we were there."

Rodger's pulse quickened. In truth... he had never fucked a girl before. He'd had girlfriends in high school, and gone home with girls at parties, but never quite made it to sealing the deal. The twins and his previous girlfriends hadn't wanted to at all; he had started to get a handjob from Pauline Wyatt at a party his junior year, but someone started banging on the bathroom door because they had to shit. At university, he'd been more interested in partying with his boys, and the one time he'd gone home with a girl in college -- well, it was with the sorority girl who he couldn't get it up for.

But then, he realized, he'd had the closest thing to a real sexual encounter with Oliver just hours earlier. He told the boys that story, obscuring some details and the timeframe -- it was a girl who had coyly invited him up to the bath, and made him clean every inch of her body, then had him eat her out while he stayed kneeling.

"And she squirted all over my face," he finished.

"But you didn't get to smash?" pressed Lance.

Rodger shrugged. "It was hot. I didn't need to."

"Shut the fuck up, Kennedy," snapped Quinn with a grin, "that's a real man who knows how to put a woman's pleasure above his own. And for longer than 5 minutes." Lance scowled.

One of the other brothers had walked up to the Truth or Dare group. "Four more down," he told Quinn. "Two pukers and two passed out in the lawn chairs."

Rodger looked over, and sure enough, Damon the redhead and a boy Rodger didn't recognize were fast asleep on the patio.

"More than halfway there," Quinn grinned. "Anyway, Higgins here got me all hot and bothered talking about his exploits. I'm gonna see if Twyla's still up and down to hit. Want to take over my group?"

Suddenly, Tony gagged and doubled over. He ran over the big, metal trash can -- and stood still over it as the rest of us watched in horror. Rodger walked over slowly and placed his hand gently on Tony's back.

"You've gotta pull it together, man," he said encouragingly. "We're so close. Deep breaths."

Tony pulled in a few shaky gasps, then shook himself out and turned back to Rodger. "Thanks, man. I think it's passed."

Two more boys had walked out, finally reaching a breaking point and deciding it wasn't worth it. Cesar Velasquez, an early favorite to make it all the way, sat down under a tree for a break and immediately fell asleep.

Lance was swaying where he stood; Kevan seemed steady but with a glassy look in his eye. Tony was still nauseas, and Rodger just felt unbearably tired more than anything. The frat had by that point run out of alcohol, so it was now just a matter of time.

A few yards away, a tall guy with an afro puked all over the ground. The pledge closest to him, seeing and smelling it, lost his lunch seconds after. In an instant, there was only one cut left to make. One more reject, and everyone else would become members of SPH. Rodger kept repeating how close he was to himself, like a mantra. Just don't throw up and don't pass out.

The remaining 25 boys had slowly, organically formed a large circle in the middle of the yard. Everyone looked haggard, but it was hard to deny that the remaining pledges all the markings of true SPH men. Athletic, determined, masculine. Even in near-delirium from sleep deprivation and drunkenness, they cut a hale figure as the sun crested over the horizon.

"So, who's going to take the L so we can all just go home?" Lance asked, breaking the silence.

Everett Kelly, a hulking rugby star with curly hair down to his shoulders, glowered. "Not a chance, pretty boy."

"Now that we're out of booze, it's going to be a long haul," observed Callum, a slender computer science major known for his liver of steel.

Just then, there was a flurry of noise as Kyle flung open the back door and reappeared in the yard. "Good news, fellas!" he cried. "I found an old bottle of Everclear in my closet."

A few of the boys audibly groaned. Kyle explained that there was enough left for one shot each, but the potent high-proof Everclear would certainly send someone over the edge. Rodger had never had Everclear before, but he could smell it already as the first shots were being poured a few pledges away from him.

Eventually, one of the brothers came to Rodger and filled his cup with a trickle of Everclear. Rodger had grown used to seeing Quinn's shots, so seeing just an ounce and a half in his cup provided some reassurance. The acrid smell of pure alcohol was singeing the inside of his nose.

"Alright boys -- raise your cups," Kyle called out. "A toast to you fine men for making it this far. Let's see who'll make the final cut. Now drink!"

In unison, the pledges tossed back their shots. Rodger felt a wave of dizziness and queasiness wash over him, and felt unsteady on his feet for a few beats. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and fought to keep them from slamming shut.

But Rodger didn't have to fight for long. Gideon, the largest remaining pledge, was doubled over at the base of tree, emptying his guts. He straightened himself and faced the crowd, a look of shame and disappointment on his face. "Well, it's been real, guys," he said, and walked out of the yard dejectedly.

The brothers who hadn't gone to bed yet gave a half-hearted round of applause. It was now a bright and sunny Sunday morning, and the lads did not have it in them to celebrate. It hadn't even really dawned on Rodger yet -- he made it. He was going to officially be a brother of Sigma Rho Eta. The Higgins family legacy would continue -- his dad and Aaron were going to be thrilled.

"Alright, boys," Kyle told the group, his voice gentler and kinder than it had been all weekend. "Go home, take a shower, and get some rest. Be back here at midnight for the induction ceremony. You should all be very proud."