No Homo | zaylor ✓

hazing

warning that this chapter gets a lil gross. more so just for comic relief and to make the book longer i guess. but nonetheless, enjoy!

For Taylor, the next few weeks were mostly filled with bonding with his future frat brothers. He didn't realize that he wouldn't just be hazed and go through a scarring initiation process, but he had to bond with the others so they could be sure he was "right" for the fraternity. What did he need to do other than drink and fuck? That's all fraternity brothers do, right?

The scariest part was in the beginning when he had to meet individually with various older members of the frat who would guide him through the process of pledging and would support him through it. This person would be called his "big brother". This big brother would be an upperclassman who would essentially be his mentor until one of them left either the school or the frat.

His big brother ended up being a senior by the name of Jon who he luckily had plenty in common with. Both of them enjoyed similar music and were attending the school for similar majors, both played guitar. What else could Taylor want?

Luckily, all of this didn't take too long. By early October, it was time for him to officially be initiated. If he could take it, that is.

Jon, his "big brother", promised him that it wouldn't be so bad, that the hazing experience would be completely worth it. But Taylor didn't believe that for a second. He didn't know what he'd be forced to go through, but he really hoped that he wouldn't be branded. Just the thought of that made him feel uneasy.

"Alright, pledges," one of the seniors who was in charge of the cult — I mean the frat — said. "We've decided what you will need to do to prove your allegiance. Get the milk," the senior said to several of the younger fraternity brothers. Proving their allegiance? Definitely sounded like a cult.

Out came several gallons of milk, one for each of the new pledges. This didn't seem so bad in Taylor's eyes. So what? It's just milk. Not the best beverage in the world but he'd rather be drinking a gallon of milk than that much alcohol. Death didn't sound fun. Not yet. Maybe later.

"All of you will be finishing your own gallons of milk. And if you don't? Well, we will be saying goodbye to you. Pledges, come on."

"What if we throw up?" Someone asked.

"All I'll say is that you really don't want to throw up. I'm sure that some of you will and you will see the consequence when the time comes."

That was not very reassuring.

All of the new pledges stepped forward and each of them were given a large gallon of milk. Once Taylor held the drink in his hand and realized the weight of it, he realized maybe it wouldn't be so easy.

Taylor removed the cap and started drinking. One of the other pledges quietly said, "I'm lactose intolerant." But the older brothers had no pity, still demanding that he drink the entire gallon.

Taylor usually didn't even drink that much water throughout the course of an entire day. But he went on.

After around twenty seconds, he pulled the large gallon away from his lips and held it up. Less than halfway done. His stomach already ached.

He continued drinking until he was halfway done, that half being a living hell. He had no idea how he would finish it. He leaned over, hand on his stomach. A loud burp left his lips, which caused the older members — all of whom had already gone through their own grueling initiation processes during the years prior — to laugh. Sounds of coughing and gagging filled the frat house, even one person begging for them to let him do something else.

But they were ruthless, forcing the weak freshman to continue drinking.

The first guy to throw up held his stomach with both hands, his body shaking as the milk came back up. Taylor couldn't even watch.

The older frat members laughed over this, one of them walking up and punching the younger male right in the stomach. He collapsed onto the floor, dry heaving.

Taylor's eyes went wide but he didn't say anything. He was determined to finish.

So Taylor took small sips at a time. He was sure that there was no way he'd be able to drink milk ever again after this night.

He placed the gallon of milk on the ground at a certain point. By then, he had drank at least two-thirds of the milk. He bent over, his mouth open. As if the feeling of drinking all that milk wasn't terrible enough, the sound and smell of everything going on was enough. Taylor vomited on the floor, facing the pain of a punch in the gut shortly after. He winced, hands on his stomach. He wasn't sure what hurt the most, the torturous feeling of the beverage filling his stomach, the disgusting feeling of throwing up, or the gut punch.

Even though Taylor felt disgusting, he forced himself to continue. He was determined now. He drank more and more until just under one-fourth was left. Of course, he threw up a second time, was punished with another punch to the gut, and somehow continued.

He was the third of all of the new pledges to finish the milk, joining the two others in throwing up all of it. Once he stood up, his stomach emptied, Jon approached him. He gave Taylor a firm pat on the back and said, "Good job, man. Welcome to the frat."

That pat on the back wasn't a great idea. Taylor leaned over, threw up on his own shoes, and then stood up straight with his hands on his stomach. Maybe his stomach wasn't as empty as he had thought. A milk mustache mingled with Taylor's stubble, which was not a great look for him.

"I think I'm gonna go back to my dorm now," he said groggily, almost passing out before he could even make it out the door of the frat house. Suddenly, he wished he was given alcohol instead of milk. Not even death seemed to be as bad as this.

He took a bus back to the building he and Zac lived in and made his way back to his dorm room, where he found Zac eating a cup of ramen noodles and watching an old rerun of Friends. Just the thought of food made Taylor gag. He climbed into his bed, his back turned to Zac.

"How was it?" Zac asked his roommate, even though he knew full well that part of being in a frat meant being sworn into secrecy when it came to the hazing experience.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Taylor mumbled, curling up into a ball on his bed and pushing his face into his pillow.