Professors Terese Szabo (39, archaeology), Darcy Paton (43, women's studies chair), Adelina Patrice (32, english) and Lynnett Hayford (28, biology) HATED their new lives.
The Greek system on their campus had a lot of power. Its alumni occupied high ranks in administration, poured millions into the university's coffers. So when sororities complained that they needed more support from faculty, all hands were on deck to satisfy their demands.
Unfortunately, the fraternities outnumbered them and had a louder voice. What started as a well-meaning effort at bridging student-professor bridges, became a free ride for every horny frat boy to throw their hat in on how the four professors would fit into that system. It didn't take long for them to abuse their newfound power.
Living in the same room together was hellish enough. The students needed access, and they needed it now, whether in the middle of class or while writing a paper at 2 AM. It wasn't the frats' fault that they only had one room to spare. And one bed. Didn't matter that they had husbands, wives and children to raise at their own homes. As far as the frat was concerned, they lived to serve their academic progress.
Then the crazier demands started coming in. No staying out past 9 PM. No suits, dress shirts, or other professional attire. No closed doors. If they were going to live in a frat, they had to live by frat rules, even if it wasn't really their choice anymore.
That slowly brought the four to today. It was rush week. And rush week meant anything goes. Anything. Including four tenured, highly cited professors laying on top of each other with their asses on display for a rowdy group of drunk frat boys.
"I can't believe we're really doing this," Professor Adelina complained
"This is EXACTLY the kind of behavior I warned about in my freshman studies course!" Professor and Chair Darcy chided, to the audible groans of the other three.
"Can't you shut up about your research for five seconds?" Professor Lynnett griped. "It's not going to get us out of this mess, we don't care."
"AH!" Professor Terese yelped. Middle of the pile, she felt the sting of a slap to her ass along with the laughter of her worst students.
But the professors weren't the only ones with some words to get in.
"Can you believe this bitch gave me an F last semester?" A boy said. "Look at her now!"
"Damn it feels good to see Dr. Fat Bun down there at the bottom where she belongs."
Another enterprising student approached Mt. Ass and ceremoniously slapped Dr. Patrice's sticking out right above Darcy. "This bad girl can fit so many papers in her pussy." To make the point, he shoved his own wadded up assignment into her exposed twat.
As the boys high-fived and chugged beer, the four professors shuddered, hot and bothered as their bodies pressed against each other. Their hazing as fresh recruits to the frat was sure to boost recruitment, an absolute win in the eyes of the university. Even if their pride and dignity went down the drain with it. The slutty tattoos they forced Drs. Lynnett Hayford and Darcy Paton to get as part of "fitting in" with frat culture would not be the last. All four had a date with a needle that evening. It was only a matter of choosing which cheek would be best for the frat coat of arms.
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Professors Terese Szabo (39, archaeology), Darcy Paton (43, women's studies chair), Adelina Patrice (32, english) and Lynnett Hayford (28, biology) HATED their new lives.
The Greek system on their campus had a lot of power. Its alumni occupied high ranks in administration, poured millions into the university's coffers. So when sororities complained that they needed more support from faculty, all hands were on deck to satisfy their demands.
Unfortunately, the fraternities outnumbered them and had a louder voice. What started as a well-meaning effort at bridging student-professor bridges, became a free ride for every horny frat boy to throw their hat in on how the four professors would fit into that system. It didn't take long for them to abuse their newfound power.
Living in the same room together was hellish enough. The students needed access, and they needed it now, whether in the middle of class or while writing a paper at 2 AM. It wasn't the frats' fault that they only had one room to spare. And one bed. Didn't matter that they had husbands, wives and children to raise at their own homes. As far as the frat was concerned, they lived to serve their academic progress.
Then the crazier demands started coming in. No staying out past 9 PM. No suits, dress shirts, or other professional attire. No closed doors. If they were going to live in a frat, they had to live by frat rules, even if it wasn't really their choice anymore.
That slowly brought the four to today. It was rush week. And rush week meant anything goes. Anything. Including four tenured, highly cited professors laying on top of each other with their asses on display for a rowdy group of drunk frat boys.
"I can't believe we're really doing this," Professor Adelina complained
"This is EXACTLY the kind of behavior I warned about in my freshman studies course!" Professor and Chair Darcy chided, to the audible groans of the other three.
"Can't you shut up about your research for five seconds?" Professor Lynnett griped. "It's not going to get us out of this mess, we don't care."
"AH!" Professor Terese yelped. Middle of the pile, she felt the sting of a slap to her ass along with the laughter of her worst students.
But the professors weren't the only ones with some words to get in.
"Can you believe this bitch gave me an F last semester?" A boy said. "Look at her now!"
"Damn it feels good to see Dr. Fat Bun down there at the bottom where she belongs."
Another enterprising student approached Mt. Ass and ceremoniously slapped Dr. Patrice's sticking out right above Darcy. "This bad girl can fit so many papers in her pussy." To make the point, he shoved his own wadded up assignment into her exposed twat.
As the boys high-fived and chugged beer, the four professors shuddered, hot and bothered as their bodies pressed against each other. Their hazing as fresh recruits to the frat was sure to boost recruitment, an absolute win in the eyes of the university. Even if their pride and dignity went down the drain with it. The slutty tattoos they forced Drs. Lynnett Hayford and Darcy Paton to get as part of "fitting in" with frat culture would not be the last. All four had a date with a needle that evening. It was only a matter of choosing which cheek would be best for the frat coat of arms.