Pudge’s man titties bounced with a purpose as he hustled towards the crowd of protestors, who were still gathered outside of the Beta Delta house after the Tumbling Pebble published an article alleging the murder of a goat by a different chapter.
Wearing a pink bowl-cut wig, glasses, eyeliner, and a push-up bra under a tight black shirt to accentuate his male bosom, he looked just like a prototypical female feminazi. It was the perfect disguise for him to infiltrate the protest and carry out their plan of revenge: slip Mitch Boener, the president of the student union and leader of the protestors, a cup of water spiked with Viagra, then watch as he is humiliated by popping a full-blown erection in front of his entire peer group.
“Beta, this is Megan. Come in, Beta,” Pudge said into a walkie-talkie.
Pudge ran low to the ground, like a spec-ops officer leading an assault.
“Approaching water supply. Over.”
“Copy. Godspeed, Megan.”
Pudge broke stride and threw his large body into a clumsy somersault. His walkie-talkie buzzed.
“Megan. That was unnecessary. Over.”
Pudge reached the row of water coolers. He filled a cup, looked over both shoulders, then crumbled a fistful of little blue pills into the water.
“The kids have been dropped off at the pool,” he said into the walkie-talkie. “I repeat, the kids have been dropped off at the pool.”
“Copy, Megan. Deliver the thrill-pills to the target.”
Pudge saw Mitch standing nearby, chatting with a group of protestors.
“What do I say to him?” he whispered into the walkie-talkie.
“I don’t know… hipster shit.”
Pudge adjusted his bra, approached Mitch, cleared his throat, and let his best girl voice rip.
“Heyy Mitch!” he said, touching Mitch’s arm. “My name’s Megan.”
“I’ve been watching you lead the protest all day. You have SUCH a way with words!”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. The walkie-talkie buzzed.
“Say something you idi–“
Pudge smashed the walkie-talkie off.
“Sooo Mitch,” he continued in his shrill girl voice. “How awesome is like…. Uhh… coffee with the, like, foam designs on top?”
“Oh yeah!” Mitch said. “I actually used to barista on the side when I was interning in New York City. It’s a very under-appreciated art form.”
“Ohmigosh I always thought the same thing!” Pudge said. He was shocked that his drag costume had managed to fool Mitch. “By the way, your voice must be killing you after yelling into that megaphone so much. I brought you some water.”
Mitch threw back the entire cup.
Also in a hipster disguise, Schmitty made his way to the protest to win over the girl he saw earlier. He weaved through the crowd until he saw her.
“Hey, I’m Schmitty. What’s your name?”
“So Jessica, how shitty are frat guys?”
“They’re absolutely disgusting. A bunch of entitled brats who think they’re better than other people just because they have Daddy’s money.”
“Ugh, so true. And how lame is it that they all have to dress the same to fit in? Nice Vans, by the way.”
“Thanks! I like your Vans, too.”
“You got any plans after the protest?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to ask my boyfriend, see if he’s got anything in mind. How bout you?”
“I don’t know. Probably check out this super underground bar you haven’t heard of. Who’s your boyfriend, by the way?”
“You mean that Mitch Boener?”
Schmitty gestured towards Mitch, who was clearly flirting with a pink-haired rotund girl. Jessica’s jaw dropped.
“That fucking asshole. Here, come with me.”
Jessica grabbed Schmitty by the hand and led him away from the protest..
TO BE CONTINUED…
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