Sorority Suspended for Mutating Pledges
Last Edit: Sep 13th, 2015
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The Delta Mu sorority has suspended its chapter at Rice State University while police investigate allegations of hazing.
Representatives of the RSU chapter refuse to comment despite an increasingly damning avalanche of evidence. Several pledges have come forward to confess, raise allegations of substance abuse, and undergo treatment for a number of alarming deformities.
“They spiked our food with something that was supposed to increase our weight,” says Brittney Kent, 18. “They said we had to take the Freshman Fifteen in stride.”
The drug acted faster than the girls’ ability to shop. Within twenty-four hours, they’d outgrown their clothes.
“That part, we didn’t mind so much,” grins Brett Hickman, 19, a member of fraternity Alpha Zeta Tau. “They didn’t even have to bend over to put on a show. They were hanging out all over the place.
"You should've seen 'em all at the gym that first day. The guys weren't even pretending to lift. We were all just watching the treadmills.”
While the girls expected to gain weight, they didn’t expect the forms that this weight would take. Dr. Angie Stern, the administrator of an undisclosed detoxification clinic, was startled to discover that the pledges are growing multiple stomachs apiece.
“After parties, we would sneak out behind the Delta Mu house, behind the landscaper’s shed,” recalls Leah Lapont, 18, “and we’d get down on our hands and knees, and we’d graze. Grass tastes awful, but nothing else was as filling.”
“We tried eating lettuce, instead,” remembers Cassandra Fuchs, 18. “One night, I ate four heads of lettuce--no joke--and an hour later, I was out behind the shed, grazing.”
“It was humiliating at first,” admits Kent, “but it also felt right. Like we were all together, and part of something bigger, which is, y’know, the whole point of rushing.”
“We smelled awful, though not as awful as we do now,” laughs Fuchs. “No one would sit by us in class. I coughed up my first wad of cud during a lecture.”
However disturbing this was, the pledges maintained the secrecy expected during rush. Only after the events of a mixer at the Alpha Zeta Tau house did they seek medical attention.
“I don’t know what got into me...literally,” Fuchs blushes. “There was alcohol, and it must’ve been spiked, but whether it was more of that weight-gain drug or some aphrodisiac or both, I dunno.”
Fuch's libidinous behavior attracted a crowd in the common room. A circle formed around her, with fraternity brothers fighting to get in, or at least get a better view.
“She was working her way around the circle, making out with half of the room, and grinding on the other half,” says Hickman.
“Leah and I could smell her from upstairs,” says Kent. “This creamy odor with a sour finish--it was flooring--and we just knew it was Cassie. By the time we got to the staircase, we could barely see her, much less get down to her. She was grinding on Brett, and everyone was cheering as he pushed her shirt up her back.”
“I wasn’t worried,” acknowledges Fuchs, “because I’d gotten so big. My shirt was on really tight. It was a tee shirt, but I was wearing it like a tube top, because I couldn't fit my boobs into it with my arms in the sleeves. If he could get it off, hey, more power to him.”
“I couldn’t get it off,” admits Hickman, “so I figured, what the hell, I’ll go for her shorts instead, and everybody cheered for that--including Cassie! But she was bent over, so I had to grope under her belly to find her waistline, and she loved that even more. Her knees started buckling and she doubled over and moaned and moaned and moaned."
Many eyewitnesses claim that Hickman fingered Fuchs, but Hickman insists that he was only feeling around for her pants’ button.
“At best, I was rubbing her lower belly. And the next thing I know, I’m touching flesh instead of denim, even though I didn’t unzip her pants. I guess her fly split open.
“Anyway, Cassie gets all shy and runs off, but I still have no idea why. Of course, she can’t get through all the people, so she turns to me, blushing and trying to cover her crotch, just in time for me to see her shorts split and her udder flop out! She’s got an udder!”
“I’m glad that didn’t happen with my udder,” says Kent, “and I’m not surprised it happened to Cassie's. It was huge!"
"It was huge, for a new udder," inserts Lapont.
"That's true," Kent agrees. "It was nowhere near as big as any of ours are now. Still, there’s no way she packed it into those Daisy Dukes of hers. It must’ve swelled up a lot during the mixer.”
“We were all growing udders, and none of us knew,” says Lapont. “I thought mine was so obvious, the way my belly bunched up over my pants. When I stretched my back, I had cleavage beneath my belly button! I dunno; I guess we were all so paranoid that we didn’t notice each other's bodies.”
"I knew everyone was watching when I was dancing up on Brett," recalls Fuchs, "and I liked it. If he had [penetrated] me, right there, in the middle of the common room, I would've come in seconds. Everyone watching, I would've...I dunno. I would've," she pauses, lost in a daydream. Only when she shifts her huge thighs and hears the squelch of her chastity belt does she regain her train of thought.
"I dunno. When my fly split, that changed. Everyone wasn't watching me any more; they were watching what would happen to me. I was so scared that Delta Mu would kick me out, but the crowd wouldn't let me through.
"I stood there for a million years, hyperventilating because everyone could see my udder, and because my hyperventilating made my teats jiggle, which only made me hyperventilate harder. Finally they decided to grab me, and that's not what I wanted, but at least it was a decision. At least it got me out of that million-year moment.
“Then Brett walked over and started feeding on one of my teats. Just a lick, at first. Then he starts suckling, and working my butt like an accordion, pushing my cheeks together and then prying them apart and running his fingers over," she pauses, noticing that her chastity belt is squelching, even though she hasn't shifted her legs.
"It felt great. Even better than when my udder first came in, when it was big enough to milk myself. He's rubbing my [anus] and I can't help it; I just pop, like a super-soaker. All four of my teats--plus my nipples, which hadn't lactated till then.
"Brett was soaked. The cheering stopped. You could hear my milk dripping on the tile. And then there was a mad rush, and everyone started feeding on me.”
“She was the hit of the party,” exclaims Hickman. “At first they pinned her down and started doing keg-stands off her teats, but then everyone who was waiting for their turn got impatient, so they started passing her around, suckling on her, squeezing her milk into mixed drinks. At one point, she was face-down, crowd surfing, and literally ‘making it rain.’”
“The changes kept going, though,” says Kent. “When she passed near the staircase, we saw how big her ears had gotten. There was one guy following along with her, sucking on her tail as it grew.
"And she kept getting bigger. The seams along the side of her shirt split open. Not long after that, she got so heavy that the crowd had to put her down.”
“It was very,” Lapont pauses to catch her breath, “affecting. Brittney and I were standing shoulder-to-shoulder because it was so crowded, and after a minute or so, we realized our boobs were pressing up against each other, even though we hadn't moved. Just watching Cassandra get...handled...was enough to make us get all...well...it was enough to make us change, too.”
“The crowd shuffled her out of the common room not long after that,” recalls Kent. “When last we saw her, her neck had thickened up from her shoulders, and she looked just as bewildered about that as she did about everyone milking her. We knew we had to find her, but it wasn’t easy.
“With Cassie out of the room, everyone got a lot more interested in the other pledges. The guys standing around us started cheering, and rubbing and groping our udders. Mine got noogied so bad, I milked my shorts.
"Still, we got off light compared with Cassie, because we hadn’t drawn attention to ourselves, so that gave us time to escape. It was hellish, but we didn’t change as much as Cassie. Basically, all that happened was our wedgies got worse.”
After leaving the house, it wasn’t difficult to find Fuchs. “We knew she’d gone back to Delta Mu, across the street,” says Lapont. “No one else seemed to smell her, but to us, it burned. Maybe our noses changed--I dunno about mine, but Brittney's was pretty wide at that point--but we followed the trail of fear and lust that Cassie had spewed down the lawn.”
Upon reaching the landscaping shed behind the Delta Mu house, Kent and Lapont found the door dented and dismantled on the floor. “I'm so big,” Fuchs moaned from inside. "What's wrong with me?"
Cassandra held onto a shelf for balance, her back arched, emphasizing her massive hindquarters. Scraps of her shorts were thonged up her ass, her udder drooped to her thighs, her breasts heaved from beneath the strip of her shirt that remained. Every few seconds she'd shudder, and grow larger.
“Finally, she couldn’t hang onto the shelf any longer, and she settled down on all fours, and she started crying about how ugly she was.”
“She kept crying, ‘I’m so huge,’ and, like, okay, but my shorts are almost thonged between my labia."
“I kept asking, ‘Can Brett even reach my pussy?’ because I couldn’t turn around to see for myself,” Fuchs blushes.
“Yes, but you wouldn’t feel him if he did,” Kent responded, considering Fuchs' genitals. "I could've fit my fist inside. Even then, it was probably big enough to take a bull's penis without hurting her."
"Not that anyone will tell us how big that is," grumbles Lapont.
At last, RSU Campus Police arrived. They had already gotten wind of the disturbance at the Alpha Zeta Tau mixer and rounded up the pledges there, but the scene in Delta Mu's landscaping shed made a big impression on them.
Their report uses a number of questionable phrases. "Money shot," "tig ol' bitties," and "tig ol' uddies" appear regularly, and considerable space is dedicated to describing "camel toes" and visible pubic hair.
What's more, their account of the scene is somewhat less tender than the pledges'. According to them, Lepont was on her back, double-fisting two of Fuchs' teats, drinking from one and dousing herself with the other. Meanwhile, Kent was behind Fuchs, Fuchs' tail draped over her shoulder, licking generously between Fuchs' vagina and anus, while fingering herself with both hands.
All three girls deny that any of this took place.
Although the truth may never be revealed, all accounts agree that Fuchs drenched the back seat of the police car with so many bodily fluids that--assuming one can overcome the stench to enter--it squishes audibly upon sitting. The car has been temporarily decommissioned while mechanics decide whether to reupholster the interior or replace the seats altogether.
Despite their inappropriately enthusiastic report, RSU Campus Police brought the mutated pledges safely into custody, and transported them to an undisclosed detoxification clinic.
For the past two days, the clinic's front and back yards have been converted into grazing pastures. "The landscapers are annoyed because we've discontinued their service for now," grins Dr. Stern. "That's the one way we'll be sad to see these girls go. Unfortunately, it may take a while."
Every pledge wears a chastity belt, as any form of sexual pleasure has proven to trigger further mutations. The belts fit like thongs, except they're made from a rubbery form of plastic, and can be adjusted to grow or shrink along with the girls.
Of course, there are plenty of ways that the pledges can still be aroused, but there's no way around them. Milking, in particular, has proven to be a vicious cycle.
"With dairy cows, you milk them a little less every day, and eventually, their bodies get the hint and stop producing. It's called 'drying off.'" Dr. Stern has become something of an expert on cattle since the pledges arrived.
"So far, the girls' bodies aren't taking the hint. They're producing surreal amounts of milk, which is also odd, because we don't know why they're doing it. Dairy cows don't lactate until they've given birth, but none of these girls are even pregnant.
"Anyway, if we don't milk them at least a little, they risk all sorts of infections. Of course, this is also a form of nipple-play, which they find arousing, which triggers further mutations, so we try to keep it to a minimum.
"It's reached the point where we're looking into an equivalent of chastity belts for their teats. The local BDSM community doesn't know what to make of me," laughs Dr. Stern. "But it's serious. The girls have started feeding on each other, partly to relieve the pressure, but partly out of sexual frustration. It's what finally turned Brittney quadrupedal."
Sure enough, at the time of this writing, Kent was still getting used to walking on her hands, with their two rudimentary fingers and the thumbs that had almost dissolved up into her wrists. She has to round her arms when walking, so as not to chafe against her breasts, which have quadrupled in size since pledging.
At the time of this writing, she's as tall as a Great Dane, measuring from hand to shoulder, although Fuchs remains the most mutated of the pledges, having reached the size of an actual cow.
"Whenever I get sad," confides Kent, "I remember being in the landscaping shed with Cassie.
"Leah and I were on our knees, nursing. Slim little Leah--we've been friends since elementary school--with an udder in her lap, and her belly draped over it, and her boobs dangling over that. I thought, Leah's not that big! Leah's ass doesn't hang out, and she doesn't have a tail!
"Of course, then I felt my shorts pop open and my top teats slouch out against my belly, and I realize that I'm Leah's size, too. We aren't the girls we were any more.
"Then I look at the udder. Cassie's udder, I mean. It's fat, sensitive, and veined, throbbing like an exposed muscle, and it's jisming milk down our throats. Yet just above it? Her belly button, pierced with the ring that she hid from her parents since her sixteenth birthday.
"Beside the udder? The tattoo of a turtle that she got on her eighteenth birthday. It was never as well-hidden as her navel piercing, because by then, she'd taken to wearing low-rise jeans.
"Now, if you wanted to see it, you had to crawl beneath a quadruped and scrutinize its milk sack."
At that moment, Kent and Lapont's hips widened, creating thigh gaps, which allowed space for their little udders. They realized that Fuchs' milk was advancing their mutations--yet they continued to nurse out of concern for Fuchs, whose body had finally grown enough anatomy to process the week's worth of grazing she'd consumed, and was making up for lost time.
"What choice did we have? Yesterday, my udder got so big that it hurt to walk, and she returned the favor.
"Now I'm on all fours, and the best part of my day was when they removed the chastity belt to clean my anus. I kept leaning into the cloth, hoping Dr. Stern would slip a few fingers in without noticing." The mere thought leaves Kent's mouth dry. With a shiver, her freckled flesh bulges around the chastity belt.
Wincing at the pressure, she continues. "Will I ever be back to normal? Will I go back to school, or visit my family, or have a sexual relationship that won't cost my humanity? I don't know. But I wouldn't have done anything differently. I got what I came for."
With that, Kent casts a warm glance at the other pledges. They graze and nurse and defecate and gossip together, and she trots off to join them.