Aftermath

The next thing Philip was aware of was an over-abundance of light.

Philip groaned, rolling over. His head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache, and his mouth tasted like he’d licked a carpet.

He reached out, expecting to feel the soft, high-thread-count sheets of Vanessa’s bed. Instead, his hand brushed against the scratchy polyester of a dorm mattress.

Philip’s eyes snapped open.

He was staring at a popcorn ceiling. A familiar water stain looked back at him.

He sat up, the movement stiff and jerky. He looked down at his chest. Missing the weight of soft breasts swaying therer.

Completely flat with a smattering of hair.

He grabbed his crotch and a distinct, semi-hard bulge greeted his hand.

“No pussy,” Philip croaked. His voice was deep, gravelly with sleep. His own voice.

He was back. He was Philip again.

For a moment, relief washed over him. The confusing, overwhelming storm of estrogen and emotions was gone. But almost immediately, it was replaced by a hollow ache. The softness was gone. The heightening of his senses had dulled back to standard definition.

And then, the memories hit him.

The lollipop. The striptease. Ryan. The taste of… everything.

“Oh my god,” Philip whispered, burying his face in his hands. “We actually did that.”

He remembered the threesome in vivid, technicolor detail. He remembered begging for it. He remembered the feeling of being filled.

Guilt pricked at him. They had hijacked Vanessa and Katy’s bodies and used them for a joyride that went way beyond stealing underwear.

Underwear.

Philip froze. The blood drained from his face.

“The panties,” he gasped.

He patted his pockets. He was wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. No panties.

They had been so distracted by the gold tokens and the sex that they had forgotten the one thing they went there for.

“We fucked up,” Philip said to the empty room.

His head whipped in the direction of the door when he heard the handle turning.

Jack walked in. He was wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie, holding two coffees. He looked tired, but he was grinning.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jack said, kicking the door shut.

“Jack, we screwed up!” Philip practically shouted, rushing over to him. “We forgot the proof! We were too busy, you know, messing around with Ryan, and we didn’t get the underwear! We’re going to have to pledge again next semester. I can’t do it, Jack. I can’t scrub another toilet.”

Jack took a sip of his coffee, unbothered. “Relax, Phil. You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling! I’m reacting appropriately to a disaster!”

“It’s not a disaster,” Jack said calmly. He set the coffees down on the desk. Then, he reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a scrap of black lace. Then, a pair of white cotton briefs. He dangled them from his finger like trophies.

Philip stared at them, his mouth falling open. “You… how? When?”

“Grabbed them during the party and stashed them in some bushes outside,” Jack said with a wink. “Just before you turned into a total slut. I’m responsible like that.”

Philip let out a long, shuddering breath, his knees actually buckling with relief. He slumped against the desk. “You are a genius. An absolute, evil genius.”

“I know,” Jack agreed. “And a hell of a wingwoman.”

Philip laughed, the sound bordered on hysterical. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jack in a fierce hug. “Thank you. Seriously.”

For a second, it was just a bro hug. But then, Philip felt it. The pressure of his own morning wood, still lingering, pressing against Jack’s leg. And he felt Jack’s body reacting. They pulled apart instantly, stepping back to opposite sides of the room. The air was suddenly thick with awkward tension.

“So,” Jack coughed, adjusting his shorts. “That was wild.”

“Yeah,” Philip said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wild.”

“We should probably set some ground rules?” Jack suggested, not meeting his eyes.

“Definitely,” Philip agreed quickly. “What happens in Theta house, stays in Theta house. When we’re guys, we’re guys. Platonic. Bros.”

“Right. Bros,” Jack nodded. “But when we’re girls…”

A grin tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth.

“When we’re girls,” Philip finished, feeling a spark of that borrowed excitement flare up again, “We play.”

“Good,” Jack said. He picked up his coffee again, leaning back against the doorframe. “Because I was thinking about next time.”

He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small Ziploc bag. Inside, two distinct clumps of hair were visible. One dark and silky. One brown with blonde highlights.

“I grabbed a few extra souvenirs,” Jack said, his eyes glittering. “And I was thinking maybe we switch next time? You seemed to really like Katy’s ass.”

Philip looked at the bag. He remembered the feeling of Katy’s hair brushing his face. He remembered the power in her legs.

“Next time,” Philip said, a smile spreading across his face. “I call Katy.”

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