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The chilly October afternoon was bright and there was a subtle bite from the cool autumn air, one that caused Amelia’s nipples to stand rigidly, like the tall Ionic columns towering over her blonde head at the entrance to the fraternity house of which she now stood in front. Amelia had hoped that her sweater would help to conceal her stiff and abnormally lengthy nipples, but the wool was no match for her body’s physical reaction to the cold and excitement.
For it was not only the temperature that had Amelia’s nipples protruding like two groundhogs out of their burrows, surveying the safety of their surroundings. Amelia was filled with a carnal anticipation, for she had come to the fraternity house to speak with its most dashing member. He was a pillar of a man and a pillar of the Greek community. His accomplishments were many, including the time he snapped a GDI’s fibula with a volleyball spike during an intramural championship, sealing the victory for his fraternity and thus keeping a title out of the hands of the independents which God had damned. Amelia was in attendance and remembered watching him be carried off the court by a crowd of celebrating fans and brothers, while the GDI sat in the corner, wailing uncontrollably as his small group of friends attempted to drag the sad, newly crippled boy away.
Amelia also recalled the time he argued a women’s studies professor to tears, not only because of his extreme offensiveness, but because he had proven her wrong at every turn until the professor had no choice but to admit defeat and hand over her voter registration card. He was not even enrolled in the class. Instead he accidentally wandered in while blackout drunk. Amelia watched as he explained to the professor that he had assumed this was the women’s restroom because of all the shit he heard being spewed, and that all he wanted to do was “punch out a fudge cobra on a clean crapper.” From there the argument escalated to its teary eyed, life reevaluating conclusion. Amelia had been in that class, and was so overwhelmed by the mental prowess of the man she had already known to be a physically domineering specimen that she legitimately feared uncrossing her legs would cause a drastic shift in the humidity of the room.
Amelia was also of course familiar with the gossip surrounding the man she came to see. There were rumors and stories whispered in the women’s restrooms of bars and fraternity houses. They all were the same. According to the gossipers he was an exquisite, world class lover, though admittedly an absent one, almost machine like in his ability to pound out screaming orgasms. Like a jackhammer, but with eyes bright blue like a sparkling mountain lake, and an inability to remember the names of women so profound that it bordered on being an actual learning disability.
Amelia was here to see the fraternity man and homecoming king finalist known as Darren, and she hoped to be his queen.
Amelia entered the fraternity house, and was thankful that she had brought her planner with her, for she held it against her chest, and used it and her grip to conceal her still soaring nipples. Not knowing where Darren’s room was, she approached an exhausted looking pledge holding a laundry basket full of dresses and asked where she might find Darren.
“Darren? I just came from his room. He gave me a bunch of dresses to wash. Apparently he Lewinsky’d all of them and told the girls to let his drycleaner take care of it, so here I am. He’s on the second floor, fourth room from the top of the stairs,” the pledge said wearily.
Amelia thanked the pledge and began to walk to the stairs before the pledge stopped her.
“Real quick, you might know this. Is there a better way to get out month old DNA than bleach and a Scotch-Brite pad?”
“I would not know such things! I am a candidate for queen, boy! Perhaps Darren shall hear of this,” Amelia replied angrily, offended by the pledge’s insinuation.
“Oh God, please don’t tell him I pissed you off,” the pledge pleaded, now reinvigorated with fear, “the last time one of his girls got pissed at me he made me three way call a phone sex hotline and a battered women’s shelter. Something about two wrongs making a right and being a gentleman. I don’t know. He was so drunk that he barely made sense. That almost made me a convicted sex offender.”
Amelia stared at the pledge for another moment before departing his presence. She proceeded up to Darren’s room but found it empty. She sat on his couch and waited for him to return. She looked around Darren’s room and observed its contents. On the walls were various posters, including one of Ray Liotta from the film Goodfellas with the caption “Fuck you. Pay me.” Amelia put her planner down on the coffee table in front of her and noticed some spilled powdered sugar. She thought that it must be a mess from a breakfast cooked for Darren by one of his many nightly companions. French toast, no doubt. She also saw Darren’s credit card laying out next to his wallet and the powdered sugar remnants. She thought it best to put it back into Darren’s wallet, lest it fall into the wrong hands.
As Amelia put the wallet down Darren came through the doorway. He was surprised but welcoming to her presence.
“I don’t remember texting anyone but okay, fuck it. Didn’t wanna go to class anyway,” he said matter-of-factly as he started to unbutton his oxford.
“I’m sorry that I’ve come unannounced…” Amelia began.
“Don’t worry. That’s the only time you’ll be with me and not announcing that you came,” Darren said with wry confidence.
Amelia became flush and looked away. Her nipples, which had momentarily relented from their intense petrifaction, were once more standing like tall, mighty redwoods. The gentleman was so brash that she was unsure of how to respond in a manner that was becoming of a lady, and of a candidate for homecoming queen. Amelia had observed Darren from a distance and been drawn to him already, but now being singularly engaged with him brought on a new level of attraction. She desperately wanted him, but forced herself to resist. She was almost quite literally swimming against a current.
“Your reputation for boldness is not inaccurate, it would seem,” Amelia said. “However sir, I am here to pair with you in a different, more formal manner.”
“Yeah I really can’t commit to a relationship longer than about an hour right now. And actually I’m dead sober so you’re really looking at like twenty-five, thirty-five minutes,” Darren replied, annoyed with the sexless turn of events.
Amelia was not discouraged by Darren’s refusal to engage her as a human being in a non-sexual manner. She explained to him that she was here as a representative of her sorority, which was paired with Darren’s fraternity for the homecoming competition. It was a fact Darren was unaware of, because he gave no fucks about it. Amelia informed Darren that she had been nominated as homecoming queen from the pairing, and that Darren had been nominated to be king.
Though the news surprised Darren, as he had not attended a chapter or checked an email in weeks, the surprise was not a pleasant one. He asked what being nominated for homecoming king entailed. Amelia told him that it would involve several meetings, a few interviews, and some charity work. Darren flew into a rage.
“CHARITY WORK!?! Can I send a pledge!?!” He shouted.
“Unfortunately you may not. You must represent yourself,” Amelia said.
“Yeah then there’s pretty much no way I’m doing this.”
Darren’s refusal only further steeled Amelia’s resolve, as well as her nipples, for in her mind his unconquerable spirit likened him to a wild stallion, a stallion she desperately wanted to ride. Amelia knew she must convince Darren to stay in the running. Suddenly she remembered the GDI whose leg Darren had shattered as if it were made from glass. She remembered Darren staring into the GDI’s contorted, gasping face and giving him one of the most commanding power points she had ever seen. She also remembered that he had in fact aimed for the GDI’s leg instead of the ten square feet of open court that he could have easily hit the ball into instead. She knew that his competitive fire and pure hatred of GDIs might compel Darren to remain in the running for homecoming king.
“There is another running for king. A GDI…” Amelia said.
“What? Who?” Darren asked.
“A small, odd boy. He represents the Asian Students Association. He stands a good chance as well. He is different from the other GDIs, and he has united many of them. The vote is in doubt. You are the greatest hope the Greeks have.”
“Gaaaaaaaaay. Fine. I’ll do it,” Darren sighed.
Amelia squealed with glee and threw herself into Darren’s powerful arms. She could no longer contain herself and she kissed him deeply.
“FINALLY,” Darren exclaimed after enduring nearly ten minutes of conversation.
Amelia climbed into Darren’s bed and began to seductively remove her clothes. Darren, however, was not paying attention, for he had seen a brother walk by his door, which he had not closed, and ran out to the hallway to punch him in the scrotum for taking the last chicken sandwich at lunch that day. For Darren did so love his house’s chicken sandwiches, but had been unable to acquire one due to both the brother’s gluttony and the fact that he had awoken late, exhausted from a drinking and cocaine binge that ended with him 20,000 leagues deep inside the absurdly attractive 27-year-old scuba instructor that taught the easiest of Darren’s “easy-A” classes, SCUBA Theory.
Darren soon returned to his bed and a waiting Amelia.
“I am yours my future king,” she whispered.
“Yeah for like twenty minutes, Bill Simmons is on PTI today, kinda wanna watch.”
And with those words Darren mounted Amelia and spent the next eighteen minutes ravishing her body. She thrashed around as Darren made powerful love to her. She shouted his name as he shouted for a pledge to come close his door, though one never did, and at least four passersby spied her right boob. By the time Darren had finished Amelia could barely move, for she was paralyzed by passion and satisfaction.
“But no really, you have to go,” Darren insisted as he put on gym shorts and a t-shirt and headed downstairs. “I’ll have someone get in contact with you about the stuff that you were saying things about.”
Amelia left the fraternity house glowing, so wrapped up in the thorough pleasuring Darren had thrust upon her that she was oblivious to the applause from dozens of actives, and the shouts from one of the brothers, in which he declared “I saw her titty! Her right titty! I swear to God! HUGE NIPS!”
Over the next few weeks Darren did not once get in contact with Amelia, who still got pleasure chills every time she thought of her and Darren’s afternoon rendezvous. She bit her lip like Kristen Stewart, but in a way that actually conveyed emotion, and thought of Darren entering her. He was so forceful, yet welcome and caring, like a firefighter violently kicking in a door to save a roomful of children in a burning building. Darren had fucked her exactly like that.
Still, Amelia at the very least needed Darren to attend the crowning ceremony. The race for king was close, but thanks in large part to Darren’s reputation he was leading the vote. Amelia meanwhile had gained a commanding lead over her competitors, due to among other things to a few abortion rumors and some well forged Planned Parenthood receipts leaked to the school newspaper. She was poised to be the queen of homecoming. The king candidate from the Asian Students Association, however, was still putting up a tenacious, kamikaze-esque fight, garnering votes from every miserable, GDI corner of campus. Rumor had it that he had a secret plan to take a last minute lead.
Amelia knew that she could no longer pull Darren’s weight alone, and resolved to go back to Darren’s fraternity and do her best to convince him to campaign for the one final day before the election ended. She approached the front steps of Darren’s fraternity, but suddenly a neon green Scion screeched to a halt on the street behind her.
The noise startled Amelia, and she turned to see what the commotion was. Out of the passenger side door a humongous Chinese student, as solid and large as one of the towers of the Great Wall, exited and reached for the back door. When the gigantic Chinese student opened the back door a small white kid dressed as though he were a Japanese pop star stepped out of the car. Before the door closed Amelia caught a glimpse inside the car. The dual televisions installed in the headrests were playing an intense anime porn scene involving eight school girls, an angry squid, and what appeared to be the ghost of an ancient ninja chieftain, though the door shut before Amelia could be absolutely sure.
“Herro Ameria. Here to convince Darren to actuarry hehrup with his own candidacy?” He asked smugly. “You don’t stand a chance.”
“Leave me be Kenji!” Amelia shouted. “And your accent is atrocious. Drop it. Or do you not have the courage to reveal your true self.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Kenji said, dropping the ruse. “No need to put on airs here. But don’t discount the accent. My kind, the GDI, takes great value in voting for diversity, literally just for the sake of diversity,” Kenji said with a wicked smile. “After my shipment of factory defect sunless tanner lotion that turns skin yellow instead of tan arrives in a few hours, and Kun Ming here bathes me in it, the homecoming emperor vote will be mine and you shall be my slave queen!”
“I’ll never be yours you sick pervert! And you disgrace the title of homecoming KING by mislabeling it.”
“Things will soon be different Amelia. The winds of change blow east. I SHALL be homecoming emperor.”
At that moment Darren walked onto the front lawn of his fraternity house with a few brothers, the entire pledge class, two 30 packs of warm Steel Reserve, and a wiffle ball bat for an impromptu pledge Louisville Chugger competition that was sure to make all of them hate their lives.
“Darren! Darren come to me!” Amelia shouted.
“Shiiiiit,” Darren groaned, not immediately recognizing the girl but assuming that he had probably had his way with her at some point.
Darren begrudgingly walked down to the sidewalk and wondered why Amelia, who he still did not recognize at all, was talking to a group of Asians.
“You,” Kenji growled.
“Who the fuck are you?” Darren replied, unsure of who anyone in the group was despite having made love to one and had the other attempt to murder him twice.
“This is the student from the Asian Association running against you for homecoming king!” Amelia shouted.
“And you are?” Darren asked Amelia.
“Oh Darren, this is no time for joking,” Amelia laughed and patted him on the chest.
Darren shrugged and decided to play along.
“So you’re running against me for homecoming king?” Darren asked Kenji.
“Yes, and you are my greatest enemy at this school! You have vanquished me twice, stolen my lovers, and brought shame on me and my family!” Kenji shouted in a rage.
“There’s no way anything I’ve done has brought more shame on you and your family than that car or your eye shadow, but okay,” Darren replied before turning to Amelia. “I think we’ve got this in the bag sweetie.”
Kenji fumed at Darren’s arrogance. The other members of Kenji’s entourage were taken aback. No others showed this sort of disrespect to their leader. Kenji could sense their faith in him waning and attempted to assert his dominance.
“Kun Ming! Bow to me and then destroy this peon!” Kenji shouted as his finger shook towards Darren.
“Oh nice, we’re having a pledge fight!?!” Darren exclaimed before turning to the front yard. “Big Fucktard! This guy’s dad was Viet Cong and says American soldiers are pussies!”
With Darren’s call an obscenely humongous pledge came lumbering towards the group with a look of indescribable rage on his face.
“MY DAD WAS IN ‘NAM YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Big Fucktard roared.
“He’s a three hundred pound former all-state tackle. Oh and his dad was in ‘Nam and he has severe rage issues,” Darren told Amelia.
Big Fucktard leapt into a waiting Kun Ming and the two crashed into the Scion, nearly destroying it. Kun Ming was no match for the rage power that Big Fucktard possessed, or as the actives in the fraternity called it, “Fucktard Strength.” After being mercilessly pummeled by Big Fucktard, Kun Ming barely escaped the raging pledge’s grasp and locked himself in the Scion, which Big Fucktard was now trying to singlehandedly flip over. A terrified Kenji leapt into the backseat and ordered the driver to floor it. The driver, also an Asian, crashed into four parked cars before finally getting the vehicle up to 17MPH.
“DAMN YOU DARREN! THIS IS NOT OVER! I WILL DEFEAT YOU TOMORROW!” Kenji shouted out the window.
After going back into the house and having impromptu celebratory bathroom sex with Amelia, because as Darren put it “fuck it, who cares,” and accidentally calling Amelia ‘Elizabeth’ multiple times, which he justified by saying “fuck it, who cares,” the two of them gathered the pledges for an emergency meeting.
While Darren and Amelia were laying out how the pledges could best run a last minute smear campaign against Kenji to ensure a victory for Darren, word came that there was a fatal accident on the interstate near campus, and it involved a Scion. After Kenji and his entourage sped away from Big Fucktard and Darren, Kenji’s driver, confused by seemingly everything having to do with roads, accidentally turned onto the interstate, which was a death sentence for the Asian motorist and his passengers.
The police report stated that the driver and backseat passenger, Kevin “Kenji” Henderson, who was found with his hands in his pants and his face smashed into the headrest television, died on impact. According to the report the third passenger, Kun Ming, survived. The report also stated that trash bags full of live squids, a suitcase packed with schoolgirl outfits, and several thousand dollars worth of video equipment were found in the trunk.
Upon hearing the news that Darren would now undoubtedly be the king of homecoming, he and Amelia once again made passionate celebratory love as Big Fucktard chanted “U-S-A” a floor below. The next day Darren forgot to show up to the halftime coronation. Instead he was at his fraternity’s tailgate, being fellated by a sorority girl impressed with the fact that he had won homecoming king. Although Darren had assumed it would be good to be the king, he did not notice a change in lifestyle, for he had lived every day like a king, and continued to do so.