The Rush Ch. 02: Measuring Up

Rodger woke up hours later, in the middle of the afternoon. He stretched out in his twin bed, putting his hands behind his throbbing head. The room was empty; his roommate had already left for the day. Granted, it was pushing 2 p.m., but for a college Sunday, Rodger wasn't getting that late of a start.

Slowly, the events of the previous day started coming back to him. The march around campus, the frenzy around Tasks, the endless drinking contest. But what his mind kept circling back to were the cocks: Zach's little snail of a dick, Oliver's girthy rod, even the small glimpse of Kevan's manhood. He lightly pulled air past his lips, trying to recapture the feeling of Oliver's cock sliding into his mouth. Rodger found he didn't even mind that Oliver came so quickly; the fact that he made someone feel so good that they climaxed almost instantly was unbearably hot to him.

Rodger's cock was fully erect. He had been so full of nerves and adrenaline throughout the weekend that he hadn't noticed just how horny he'd been. He used the tip of his finger to lightly stroke his frenulum, and his dick seized in anticipation. He slid his boxers down to his ankles, and started fondling his balls, pressing up against his taint, gearing up to grab his dick and go to town -- but before he could get even a taste of release, there was a loud banging on his door.

Rodger pulled his boxers back up and threw on a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He opened the door to see Kevan and Lance.

"Tony's still sleeping," said Lance, walking past Rodger and sitting on his roommate's bed.

Kevan followed in, a tray of coffee in hand, perching himself at Rodger's desk. "How long have you been up?"

"About five minutes," he told them. "How are you guys feeling?" Rodger grabbed one of the coffee cups and relished the bitter brew as it began warming his belly.

"Hungover but fucking ecstatic," said Lance.

Rodger beamed. "I know. We all made it! We're going to be fucking brothers."

"Hell yeah," echoed Kevan.

The guys hung out for a while, eventually pulling out their laptops and working on the homework that they had put off for days. Tony woke up and joined them after a while, and they wound up spending the whole day together -- homework, lunch, a quick gym sesh, then dinner. They shared stories of growing up, girlfriends, heartbreaks, aspirations -- they had all bonded through the hazing, and found opening up to each other rather natural now.

With only a few hours until they had to return to the frat house, the lads returned to the dorms to freshen up. Rodger and Lance headed to the showers on their end of the hall, taking adjacent cubicles. As soon as Rodger stripped off and started lathering himself, his cock grew rock hard again. Even for as much fun as he was having throughout the day, he was never quite able to stop feeling so horny. He started stroking, just using a few fingers as to not make any suspicious noises, but soon Lance started making idle chit-chat. Rodger couldn't focus, so gave up and turned the water cold.

The boys all dressed and regrouped in Kevan's room for a pre-induction beer. "Why am I weirdly nervous?" asked Rodger to no one in particular.

"No need," said Kevan with a smile, "the hard part's over. Tonight we finally get to celebrate."

"Yeah, the shit they've put us through, tonight better be full of top-shelf liquor and hot girls," Lance asserted. "At least this time I'm better prepared." Lance lifted the waistband of his underwear out of his chinos to show off his black Calvin Klein trunks.

"We get it, Lance, you only wear tighty whities sometimes," Kevan teased.

Tony chimed in, "Guys, I know I keep saying it, but I still can't believe some of those Tasks -- and the fact that most people did them! Like, Kevan, your dick was fully on the internet."

"I could have dropped out if I wanted," Kevan conceded. "And at least I had some control over mine. You hear that pictures of Wu were all over the girls' stories? Guarantee at this rate the whole freshman class has seen his Johnson."

"More of a Johnny," Lance said with a dark grin.

"Even if his dick is kinda small," Tony offered, "at least now he doesn't have to worry about revealing it to girls when he hooks up. They'll know what they're getting into before they even get naked."

Rodger cut in, "Let's talk less about other guys' cocks and more about the sorority girls we're about to party with."

The boys cheered to that, but in reality, all the jokes about Zach's dick had made Rodger rock hard again -- his most unbearable erection of the day. He was just about to consider sneaking back to his room to rub out a quick one, but it was already time to make the trek back to Greek Row.

"Isn't it a little early? Induction doesn't start until midnight," Rodger protested.

"Well we're definitely not going to risk being late to this," Lance insisted.

Outside of the dorm building, the boys met up with the remaining SPH pledges in Advisory Hall. Zach Wu was there, his shaggy black hair gelled and styled for the first time Rodger had seen. Matty Carlisle had made the cut, too, although he still seemed to hold a small grudge against Rodger for causing him to trip during the march.

Rounding out the bunch was Christian, who none of the other boys knew very well. He kept mostly to himself during rush, but seemed pleasant enough. Christian was tall -- almost Kevan's height -- with a long, gaunt face and sunken eyes. Everyone had been surprised when he made the final cut; he hadn't seemed the type to care about joining SPH to begin with. Dressed in all black, he hung a few feet behind the rest of the guys as they made their way back to the house.

It had just started to drizzle by the time they made it to SPH, just 10 minutes until midnight. A few brothers were in the foyer, directing everyone to the basement. Oliver was among them -- Rodger caught his eye, and only received a small nod in return. He hurried down the stairs.

The basement had been transformed from the plain concrete, rec-center vibes on Friday night; thick, emerald curtains covered all the walls. Bright orange carnations in vases dotted the room. Along the far wall, framed in velvet, were 24 symbols made out of copper, each about a foot tall. Getting closer, Rodger recognized them as the Greek alphabet, from Alpha to Omega. The rain quickened; thunder clapped.

The brothers in the basement were no longer wearing their green t-shirts, but plain brown robes. Rodger thought they looked like Franciscan friars. Kyle was there, as was his vice president, the treasurer, and the social chair. Otherwise, the room was filled with the new initiates, almost all of whom had arrived early.

As it hit midnight, the four brothers stood at the front of the room. The pledges instinctively gathered around them. The room was lit only by candles, casting their faces in dramatic relief. Kyle began to speak:

"Gentlemen, I want to congratulate you again. From over 100 to just 24, you've proven yourselves to be among the best men in the world. You've demonstrated your charisma and ability to win new people over. To influence, make an impression, make a name for yourself. You've shown us that you take care of your bodies and are strong and determined. You've shown us loyalty, proven that we can trust you when we need you most. For that, you'll get endless loyalty in return. And you've shown your fortitude, your stamina, your ability to outlast other men and drink them under the table. You are all magnificent."

The boys cheered. Rodger couldn't see Lance, but knew he must be rolling his eyes halfway into his skull right now. Rodger himself appreciated the sentiment, acknowledging that Kyle had a flair for theatrics. All he knew is he wanted to call Aaron and debrief his rush experience.

"Being part of SPH means being among the most successful men in the world. CEOs, senators, diplomats, hedge fund managers. Wherever you go, there will be a helping hand on every rung of the ladder. But who is the greatest of the best? Who is the least?

You may know that there are five core Tenets to Sigma Rho Eta. You have only learned four: charisma, strength, loyalty, and perseverance. Tonight, you learn the fifth. Please strip completely nude."

Rodger's heart began to race. He had no qualms being seen in his underwear -- years of sleepovers, camping trips, and shirts v. skins soccer had inured him to that. But he had always been modest about going full frontal. Even in the locker room, the showers were in cubicles, so he never had to be naked among others. Rodger also realized he was likely to see more penises than the sum total before in his life. If the sight of two yesterday made him so aroused... what would twenty more do to him?

Luckily, most of the pledges were quick to cup their hands around their packages after undressing, so Rodger could spy nothing more than a few shaft bases and a few glimpses of scrotums peeking through fingers.

Exceptions to this rule were Zach, who cracked a joke about everyone having seen it already, and the more well-endowed members of the pledge class. This included Dmitri, a black Swede with box braids and full sleeve who had served a stint in the IDF before college -- and Kevan, whose massive cock boasted a conservative six inches completely soft. His balls hung low and had a silky look to them, glistening with sweat in the candlelight. Rodger noticed that Kevan couldn't help but crack a slight cocky smile; Dmitri was completely stoic.

Once nude, everyone gathered around Kyle and the other councilmembers. Kyle picked his spiel back up: "Gentlemen, the fifth Tenet is virility. As the future most powerful men in the world, we need to sow our wild oats, bring pleasure to our partners, and seek release. It's essential to manhood. In fact, it is so important to SPH that the whole organization is founded on a hierarchy based on virility. There's no true way to measure this, but our traditional method, passed down through generations, is to organize each class by penis length. You may have heard that our sigil represents 'medical engineering,' but it actually depicts what we're about to do tonight."

Rodger's pulse quickened again. Was this actually about to happen?

"We will measure each of your cocks -- flaccid -- and rank you according to size along the letters of the alphabet, Alpha to Omega. This will determine your position and standing with the rest of your pledge class. Divide yourselves among the four of us; let's begin measuring."

Hesitantly, Rodger walked over to the small group forming around the treasurer and pondered his manhood. Just as he'd never been naked in front of others, he'd also never seen many other cocks before. There were the monster schlongs of porn, but obviously he would be smaller than those guys. But was he smaller than regular guys? He definitely paled in comparison to Kevan, or even Oliver. But was he really all that much bigger than Zach? Was he maybe even smaller?

He parted his cupped hands slightly to peer at his crotch. Sprouting out of neatly trimmed pubes was an acorn-shaped head, bright pink, atop a short, skinny shaft. It wasn't cold in the basement, but the anxiety had caused his junk to shrivel up a bit. His grape-sized balls looked like they didn't even hang, and just clung to his body. It was starting to dawn on Rodger that he might have a small cock, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. The next question was just how small it might be.

Tony had joined Rodger's group; Rodger had been worried about Tony, too, knowing that bigger guys' cocks could look smaller from the extra padding. But to his surprise, Tony volunteered to be measured first, and strutted up to the brother. He moved his hands away from his groin and revealed a big fat hog -- the girthiest cock Rodger had seen the past two days. It wasn't very long, but it was thick as all hell, although dramatically tapered at the tip.

"Three and one-quarter inches," declared the treasurer.

Next was Patrick, an All-American beefcake with blond hair, a handsome face, and a smattering of dark hair on his belly that got thinner around his chest. He jokingly flexed his biceps as he stepped up for measurement, revealing sparsely trimmed pubes and a skinny uncut cock.

"Four inches," was the verdict.

Rodger hung back as the rest of the guys stepped forward to get measured. He watched as the treasurer held the flexible measuring tape against the base of the guys' penises, letting it drape down to the tip. Rodger realized his dick didn't really hang, but mostly stuck straight out -- even Zach's cock had dangled a little. Searching for a silver lining, Rodger realized that at least he was too nervous to get hard, even with all the cocks around.

The other five guys in his group had all been three inches at the very shortest. It was time for Rodger to step forward. He stood frozen for a few seconds, then finally, reservedly, dropped his hands to his side. The treasurer's eyebrows shot up, but he otherwise betrayed no feeling. He watched as the brother pressed the end of the measuring tape into the base of his shaft, forcing his nub to stick out even straighter. The treasurer held the ruler taut, leaning in to examine the length and get as accurate a read as possible.

"One half-inch," said the treasurer.

Rodger heard a snort from behind him, and noticed that a few guys within earshot from other groups had heard. He was sure everyone took comfort now, knowing at least they weren't the smallest so far.

He turned around, finally presenting his tiny dick to the other brothers in his group. Everyone's eyes widened a bit; Patrick could barely suppress a smug grin. Only Tony remained expressionless, though even that seemed to be taking him conscious effort.

It had felt like ages, but it had only been about five or ten minutes since the measurement started, and everyone had already been sized. "Alright, everyone," Kyle called back to the room, "now that you have your measurements, please work to arrange yourselves in cock size order along the letters in the back. Biggest rod at Alpha, smallest worm on Omega. Hustle!"

Soon, everyone was mingling next to the letters, hands uncupped, sizing each other up and sharing their readouts. Rodger avoided mixing too much with the others, and quietly positioned himself underneath the hanging Omega symbol. Half a minute later, Zach walked up with a boy named Bobby, the only other pledge of Asian descent. Bobby was tall and bald-headed, with strong back muscles from years of rowing.

"Well," said Bobby, whose dark, cut cock was midway between Zach's and Rodger's in length, "we were complaining about the stereotypes coming true, so this is heartening."

"How big is that thing?" Zach asked wryly, settling in under Chi.

Rodger said in a low voice, "Half an inch."

"Damn," said Bobby. "Hope you're a grower."

As more guys figured out where they stood and approached the wall, they couldn't help but check out the beginning and end of the alphabet, who had sorted themselves out more quickly. Everyone whose eyes landed on Rodger had to resist the urge to grin or laugh at his barely-there dick.

All except Lance, who openly cracked a self-satisfied smile, making eye contact with Rodger as he settled in under Pi -- sixteenth in rank. Lance had quite a pencil dick, remarkably skinny and just over two and a half inches soft. Uncut, his long foreskin accentuated the pencil shape but gave him the appearance of being longer than he was.

Rodger, Zach, and Bobby were the only members of the under-2 inch club. Most of the rest of the end of the alphabet was rounded out by cocks between 2 and 3 inches. The vast majority of the middle of the pack, by far, were 3-4 inches. In that group were Tony and Matty Carlisle, each at three and a quarter, but Tony edging the Kappa spot given his massive girth advantage.

Patrick, with his floppy 4-incher, and Callum, the skinny computer major with a similar cock, took Eta and Theta respectively. At Gamma, or third place, was Kevan, whose final measurement put him at six and a half inches. Of the porn star cock category, Kevan's was the most good-looking dick, with nice curves and a juicy-looking glans. Dwarfing him, however, were Dmitri in the Beta slot at seven and a quarter -- and to everyone's shock and awe, their pledge class' Alpha was Christian, whose ghostly pale monster came in at over seven and a half. It was otherworldly. Rodger didn't know they came that big in real life.

After they had finalized their order, and the brothers verified that everyone was in the right spot, Kyle began walking down the line with a small bowl of bloodred liquid. As he passed each pledge, he drew their letter on their forehead with his thumb and muttered a few words. It was only when Rodger himself was anointed that he could make out what was being said: "In the name of our virile and potent forebears, I induct you, Roddy Higgins, as a provisional Brother of Sigma Rho Eta, at the rank of Omega."

With that, Rodger was officially a brother of SPH, the most influential frat in the world. And among the greatest and most powerful men, he was the least. He'd still take it, he thought -- it was still worth the access.

Kyle walked forward a few feet and turned to face the row of naked boys. "Brothers," Kyle explained, "the letter system is designed to help all of us become the best men we can be. We must work to learn from superior men, model ourselves off them, and cultivate our own personal growth. After your first year, the letters cease to matter much beyond administrative matters. If you make it to sophomore year as a brother, you become a full, equal, lifelong member of SPH. Think of this next year as a trial run."

Rodger's pulse quickened. A trial run? That meant a whole additional year of uncertainty. He still couldn't rest easy, even after making it this far.

"Alpha, Omega," said Kyle, perking Rodger's ears up. Was he already responding to Omega? "Please join me up here."

Christian and Rodger moved to stand on either side of Kyle, facing their brothers. Now, everyone's eyes were on Rodger's infantile member, taking in the almost comical paradox of a child's family jewels on this big, hairy man's body. His inadequacy was thrown in all that much more relief being compared directly to Christian's albino anaconda.

"Christian Masters is your Alpha," Kyle explained matter-of-factly. "He is the greatest man among you -- you only have to look at this firehose to see it. Traditionally, the freshman Alpha is granted special privileges to help encourage his cohort to strive to be better men. Most important is the right of First Dibs. The Alpha has the right to claim any woman -- or man -- he wants to sleep with, over any other brother. Of course, the other person has to also want to fuck him for them to actually bone, but whether or not they have sex -- anyone dibbed by the Alpha is off-limits to the rest of the brothers. I once heard of an Alpha who called dibs in the middle of the Iota fucking the captain of the cheer squad. The other brother had to stop mid-thrust and send her home.

"Any brother may challenge a lower-ranking member for a lay, but it won't be automatic. The decision ultimately rests with the Alpha. He will settle any disputes between brothers that don't involve official SPH regulations. The Alpha also gets his own bedroom with a king-sized bed -- no senior even has this privilege. It is a rite of passage for the freshman Alphas, as they come into their own kinghood."

Lance was glowering, but the other brothers mostly looked dumbstruck. Christian could stop them from fucking any girl he wanted to? Even if he wasn't going to have sex with her? No one knew Christian very well, so no one could gauge how he'd use this power. The tacit understanding, of course, was that anyone who broke the First Dibs rule would lose their provisional status and be kicked out of SPH.