Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #28 - DIK-Bash
Keywords: MF, mc
Posted: May 1, 2012
Edited: May 1, 2012




			  The Adjusters #28


			       DIK-Bash



Daniel was nervous as he climbed the front steps of the Delta Iota
Kappa fraternity house right behind Jackson. He tugged at the black
scarf with eye holes that he had wrapped over the upper half of his
face in the manner of Zorro, and adjusted the heavy sash that crossed
his chest. He was fidgeting, he knew, but could not really help
it. His main focus was devoted to fighting the sense of dread that was
suffusing him since he had donned this pirate's costume and met up
with Jackson--dressed as Thor from the current Marvel movies.

The mission for the evening was clear: get in, locate Jenn and Kyra,
subdue them with the narcotic-laced needleless syringe he had stashed
away in an inside pocket, then get them out of the house to bring them
to Doctor Cargyle so that he can cure them. They could deal with Biff
and the rest of the sorry bunch afterwards, possibly even saving the
other girls. Like Serena. Daniel cringed at the thought that he would
not be able to do anything for her tonight, but he swore that he would
get her out from under the brothers' thrall before the week was out.

When Jackson was stopped by the bouncer at the door of the house,
Daniel stepped up next to him. The large man asked for tickets, which
Jackson presented promptly. The bouncer took them, glancing at the
fraternity ring on Jackson's finger, and then examined the tickets,
running them under a portable light that illuminated thin concentric
purple circles hidden in the paper. He examined the tickets for a long
time, once in a while glancing up at Jackson and Daniel, sizing them
up. He finally handed them back, asked for the two young men to give
him the back of their hands, and he stamped them with what had to be
an invisible stamp.

Daniel had hoped that they would not be searched. While he might have
been able to explain the syringe--he could claim it was an emergency
insulin shot for an imagined diabetes--it would have been more
difficult to justify the taser he had borrowed from Cindy, the same
taser he had used to subdue the doctor, which was hidden in the folds
of his sash.

They were not searched. Inside, the frat house was full--not
overcrowded, but full--and Daniel could not help a shiver. The last
big party he had been to was that infamous NADA party at the end of
the previous semester, that party that saw Radhu grabbed and
threatened with extreme bodily harm in front of an assembly of
bloodthirsty drunken students. They had been lucky, Radhu's subsequent
post-traumatic agoraphobia notwithstanding. Daniel dearly hoped that
tonight's event would not degenerate quite so dreadfully.

He thought about the small hidden camera he had buttoned to his
costume, the one that was feeding video back to Radhu. At least this
time he had some potential backup in case things really went south. He
thumbed his phone, called his friend for a final check that everything
was working okay. Radhu did not answer.

"What's up?" asked Jackson. The boy seemed anxious.

"It's Rad. He's not answering."

"You sure he's got our backs, right?"

"I trust him with my life."

Jackson grunted.

"What?"

"I dunno. He's weird, that's all. I don't get people without
emotions."

"He's got emotions. If he didn't, he wouldn't be cooped up in his
apartment afraid of the world."

"Yeah, maybe. Whatever. Well, we're in. Where do we start?"

Daniel looked around, noting that there seemed to be two classes of
people milling about. He already knew that tonight's was an
invitation-only event. Several revelers were fully costumed,
some--like a remarkably full-featured Batman complete with rubber-cast
muscles--clearly having gone to great lengths to secure
top-of-the-line outfits. The rest, by far the majority, were older,
the women wearing evening dresses, the men decked in suits and ties,
both only sporting masquerade-style eye masks.

"What's with the dressiness and the masks?"

Jackson looked around. "Alums. Tonight's all about wooing rich alums,
both in the fraternity, and without. Rumor has it that President
Calhoun might even show up. Kevin's been stressed out about this party
for weeks now."

"Does that help us, or not?"

"I don't know. Many of them will be distracted, of course," he said,
nodding meaningfully towards a small group of alumni.

Daniel understood. Circulating amongst the guests were girls,
beautiful girls, and to say they were dressed skimpily was to ridicule
the concept. Every one of them wore a piece of lingerie, from
translucent lacy nightgowns to sheer babydolls and tight corsets, as
well as tall platform heels, large loop silver earrings, and lots of
silver dangles that caught the light. A quick look confirmed that each
girl had a silver bracelet on her wrist. DIK girls, all of them. And
thus programmed to obey orders given by fraternity members.

"So I guess all of those girls are there to serve the guests..."

"Pretty much," nodded Jackson, looking around to make sure that they
were not drawing any unwanted attention. "All the brothers were told
that alums have priority, and that they should be encouraged to use
the girls as much as possible. The idea is to put those alums in a
good mood, and get them to give. Kevin said something about allowing
donating alums to spend a night with a girl when they come and
visit. You know--as a nice thing to do to a generous donor..." His
tone of voice indicated that Jackson thought the idea unpalatable.

Daniel looked at his companion, and wondered whether Jackson would
have reacted that way four months earlier, before he had fallen in
love with Kyra and before she was snatched away from him by Biff using
the exact same tools the fraternity was using to control their girls.

Daniel watched a tall well-dressed man walk up to one of the girls, a
curvy blonde wearing a light green chemise that exposed a generous
expanse of breast flesh, and strike up a conversation. "Wait," said
Daniel, a thought striking him, "do the alums have a ring that lets
them control the girls too?"

Jackson frowned, looked around, then shook his head. "Don't think
so. I remember Kevin nervous about letting the alums know too much
about the girls. I doubt he'd have given them a way to control them."

Jackson followed Daniel's gaze and stared at the well-dressed man and
the curvy blonde. "Ah, there. Look. There's a brother behind
her--Chris, I think. Anyways, I think he's there to control the
girl. I wouldn't be surprised if--" he looked around, finding and
examining a few more girls, "right, there's a brother with every
girl. I bet he's there to tell her what to do, and to make sure she
remains triggered."

Daniel saw for himself that there was a costumed fellow keeping close
to every single DIK girl, staying out of the way but remaining close
at hand. The girls mingled pleasantly, and always made sure to present
their body in the most flattering light. It was as if they were models
on the catwalk, to be seen, admired, desired.

"Okay," said Daniel, shaking his head and taking in the guests as a
whole. "Let's find Kyra and Jenn. I say we split--we'll cover more
ground that way. You got your phone? Good. Let's meet back here--" he
pointed to a statue in the corner of the hall, "in an hour."

Jackson nodded.

"Be careful," added Daniel.

For the next half hour, Daniel strolled about the large house,
surreptitiously watching everyone, striving not to attract any
attention to himself while at the same time trying to spot Biff's bulk
through the costumes, or Jenn or Kyra. He figured that Biff may well
have brought the girls to the party in disguise, perhaps to prevent
having to share them with alums.

He nodded back to the various people that nodded to him, giving silent
thanks to the kind soul that had decreed that tonight's party would be
a costumed party.

His first trip around the house yielded nothing. No Biff, no Jenn, no
Kyra. Serena also was nowhere to be found. He had spotted Kevin at
some point, recognizable in his Roman centurion getup, and he had
seemed deep in discussion with a group of older male alumni.

Daniel had grabbed a drink on his circuit and was nursing it, needing
to keep his head as clear as possible. He mingled with a few groups
when he could not avoid it, trying to stick close to alumni rather
than fraternity brothers to avoid anyone recognizing him.

Much to his surprise, he found himself caught up in conversation with
a high executive of an international corporate consulting firm
specializing in developing economies, and even pocketed a business
card. The executive was soon distracted, however, when a lithe and
toned Asian with a minuscule blue bra and panty set caught his eye,
and Daniel let him go, watching the large man practically swoon before
the much smaller girl when she snuggled up close to him, and noting
that her handler--for lack of a better term--who sported a
surprisingly realistic shark head, was hovering close by.

When the large man's hand slid down the girl's back to cup one of her
cheeks and pull her groin tight against his thigh, Daniel's jaw
clenched, and he watched the man address the young man with the
shark's head, who in turns said something to the girl before the
mismatched couple walked away, the girl engulfed in the larger man's
right arm, towards what was to be undoubtedly a less frequented
room. The young man with the shark head followed several steps behind.

Something must have shown in Daniel's face through his mask because a
young man wearing a Star Fleet uniform from The Next Generation era
looked at him with concern. "You okay, man?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah. Just great. Thanks." He flashed a genial grin to
the bewildered young man, rose his glass in a silent toast, and turned
his heels to continue the search for his fiancee.


				* * *


Jackson carved his own circuitous route through the frat house. He was
less taken with the extraordinary sights of the DIK girls walking
around in skimpy outfits and mingling amorously with random men
because he had seen it all before at previous parties, although none
quite at the scale of this one. The house had even been decorated,
someone going to the length of hanging a few paintings that even to
his own not overly cultured eye looked as though they would not be
misplaced in a good museum.

He had been talking about his Thor costume for the past two months,
and therefore his fellow brothers recognized him immediately and
saluted or high-fived him when they saw him. He felt a tug of regret
and shame at seeing them so happy and carefree. Spending time with
Daniel and Cindy--more generally, with outsiders to the
fraternity--had started to affect his perception of his fellow
brothers and of the fraternity as a whole. And, of course, there had
been Kyra. Why don't you face it, Jackson? he admonished himself. The
bunch of them fucked your girlfriend, over and over again, whether she
wanted to or not. Biff snatching Kyra had been merely the last straw,
the forceful reminder he had needed to finally grasp the whole sorry
state of affairs.

Looking across the room, he spotted a friend, easily recognized in his
fireman's costume, acting as handler for a tall brunette with runner's
legs and a shy smile. She was busy sitting on the knees of a slim man
in a dark grey suit that looked like he might break if she squeezed
him too tightly. Her face was buried in his neck, and he was running
the tip of his fingers across her back, pausing once in a while to
play with the strings holding up sheer camisole top.

"Hey Sonny."

Sonny jumped when Jackson spoke to him, and nearly slammed his head
back against the wall. "What? Oh! Jackson, is that you?"

"Yup. Jackson of Asgard, at your service."

Sonny smiled thinly, glancing at the brunette that had shifted on the
thin man's lap to look up at another man in a business suit that had
approached the couple. "Nice costume, Jackson. As good as you said
it'd be."

"Thanks. Yours too. Listen, have you seen Kyra around?"

Sonny, his eyes never leaving the now threesome across from him, shook
his head, never looking into Jackson's eyes. "No. No, haven't seen
her."

"You sure? I think I've seen every other girl around."

Sonny smiled nervously, still avoiding Jackson's eyes. "Well, she's
your girl and all, you know. I bet Kevin thought he'd keep her out of
this one."

Jackson nodded, knowing full well that Kevin would do no such thing,
and Sonny had to know as well. "Yeah, maybe. What about Biff? Seen
Biff around?"

Jackson thought that Sonny would scream and run at Biff's name. The
frightened young man looked left and right like a bird hearing a
cat. "N... No. Haven't seen Biff either. Not tonight. Not here. Can't
say he's here. W... Why?"

Jackson gently chucked his friend on the shoulder. "Relax,
Sonny. What's with you? I just need to ask him a few things. Been a
while I haven't talked to him, that's all."

Sonny chuckled nervously. "Yeah, sure. Okay. No, I haven't seen him."

"Hey Sonny--" The voice startled both of them. Jackson turned around
to see the new arrival, a young man dressed as a superhero--the Green
Arrow, in all likelihood.

Sonny sounded relieved. "Brad!"

Brad looked at Jackson and seemed to recognize him, and then seemed to
redden slightly--it was hard to tell underneath the
mask. "Jackson. Good to see you. Nice costume."

Jackson nodded. "Thanks! Yours too. We should team up." He did not
think his joke was that funny, and Brad seemed to share his
opinion. Sonny laughed, a nervous high-pitched giggle that grated on
Jackson.

"Jackson here was... was asking about Biff," Sonny told Brad.

"Was he?" Brad looked at Jackson. "Haven't seem Biff tonight, sorry."

Jackson heard the unspoken "yet" trailing Brad's sentence, but did not
push. He did not want to seem too eager.

"How about Kyra?" Jackson asked. "Is she around?"

Brad made a face that Jackson could not decipher through the
mask. "Haven't seen her either. What's the matter, lost your
girlfriend?"

There was an odd sort of challenge in Brad's voice, and Jackson almost
asked him what he meant by that. Did he know something about Biff and
Kyra? What if he did not know anything? Asking about it would then
certainly arouse his suspicions. Which may lead Brad to go talk to
Biff and maybe get access to Kyra. Because Jackson knew that Brad had
a soft spot for Kyra--Brad had spent a lot of time with her before she
became Jackson's girlfriend. Jackson glanced at Sonny, who was
shuffling in place, looking like he might wet his pants. Jackson was
willing to bet Sonny could be made to talk, but not as long as Brad
was around.

Putting the information aside and willing to wait until he could
corner Sonny alone, he said goodbye to the young men and resumed his
search, plastering a smile on his face, and mingling with his fellow
brothers along the way.


				* * *


Daniel was in one of the larger reception rooms in which the party had
naturally congregated, listening to a three-way conversation between
two banking executives and what sounded like a finance student from
the fraternity, talking about the European bond markets--one of the
executive was certain that he had found a way to benefit from the
disconnect between the various European Union members' fiscal policies
and the unified Euro, while the other banker gave every sign of being
unconvinced and the student tried to match the first banker's ideas
with various theories he had learned in the past year. A group of
students had gathered around the three men, perhaps in an attempt to
get an inside into the latest quick rich scheme.

Daniel used the assembly as an inconspicuous way to keep an eye on the
rest of the crowd, still looking for either Jenn, Kyra, or
Biff. Around him, the party had kicked into higher gear. The girls,
still walking around like sultry lingerie models, were now freely
groped by the suited men and not a few of the women, giggling and
kissing in response to their touch. Breasts were grabbed and squeezed
and once in a while would spill out in plain view, asses were
caressed, crotches were cupped. The girls, far from discouraging such
attentions, actively invited them by their actions and often their
words. They were actively pressing their bodies into those of the men
around them, rubbing themselves against them, in a wanton display of
sexual availability.

Daniel adjusted his sash to make sure it did not block the miniature
camera that Radhu had given him and that was sown up as a button on
the puffy shirt of his pirate costume. He wondered what Radhu thought
of the party.

Daniel had just seen Jackson winding his way through the hallway down
towards one of the other reception rooms when he spotted a figure he
thought he recognized from the corner of his eye. His senses
immediately on alert, he stepped away from the group--apologizing to
one of the fraternity brothers that was practically leaning into his
shoulder to get a better view of the discoursing trio--and tried to
get a clearer view. There--the girl in the black slip, perfect body,
looking very much like...

He winced when he recognized the long blonde locks. It was not
Jenn. But he knew her. When she turned around, he confirmed it--Jenn's
friend from her English classes, the cheerleader. Trish. The catholic
girl who despaired of ever finding a nice boy to marry.

He approached the blonde, who seemed to be flirting with a rotund
little man whose mask kept threatening to slide off his sweaty
reddened face. Daniel pegged the man as a prime candidate for an early
heart attack. Trish was standing close to him, fully half a head
taller than the shorter man in her platform heels, and she was running
her hand lightly over his jacket sleeve. Daniel noted the man's
wheezing breath, and was tempted to step up to him and gently guide
him to the exit, advising him towards a proper diet and eventually
some exercise. With a stab of guilt he wondered whether the man was
sick--but whatever sense of empathy Daniel might have experienced
quickly dissipated once he saw Trish grab the man's hand and put it on
her breast, whereupon the man's eyes widened underneath his mask and
his wheezing increased.

The man blurted something that Daniel could not hear, and he turned to
someone dressed as a typical robot straight out of a fifties sci-fi
flick--Trish's handler, no doubt--and talked for a long time before
pulling something out of his pocket and passing it on to Robot
Boy. After a last longing look at Trish, he reached inside his jacket
for an inhaler, and waddled away.

Daniel saw Trish follow the retreating man with her eyes, her
expression neutral, and Robot Boy stepped up to her and said
something. Trish nodded, leaning into him, holding on to his arm,
snuggling close to him, before scanning the crowd with her eyes. She
caught Daniel's eye and held his gaze, smiling. If she recognized him,
she gave no indication, and Daniel was bothered by this until he
remembered that he was in fact meant to be unrecognizable in his
disguise. On an impulse, he walked up to Robot Boy. Trish smiled at
him.

"Time for your break, Robby."

The handler turned to him. "What's that you say?"

"Nils has me going 'round and relieving every guy for fifteen minutes,
giving you all a chance to relax and mingle a bit, maybe catch a
bathroom or something. I just relieved--What's his name? Guy with the
shark's head? Anyway, you're next."

Robot Boy hesitated. "Didn't know we got breaks... I thought we were
supposed to go till eleven."

Daniel shrugged, making a gesture to signify that the wishes of people
in charge are always impenetrable. "Can't tell you. All I know's that
Nils asked me to do this, and I know better than argue with the
guy--you know what I mean." Jackson had given Daniel the rundown on
the people in the fraternity, and had pointed out how the
vice-president was the hands-on officer, implementing Kevin Cusker's
edicts. And Nils, with his calm efficiency that was rumored to come
from deadly training with some Northern European special forces,
tended to frighten the fraternity in a deeper and subtler way than
Biff with his brute strength.

Robot Boy nodded. "Yeah, I know. Still..."

Daniel gently bumped him on the shoulder, in a friendly gesture. "Come
on--head out to the bar--they got out some of the good stuff. Some
amazing imports. You like microbrews? There should be some left, if
you hurry."

Robot Boy's eyes flashed at the thought, and he
hesitated. "Oh--Right. Sure... Okay..." He took a step, hesitated
again, and Daniel reassured him.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on the cheerleader chick. I don't wanna
get in trouble either."

Robot Boy nodded, reassured, looked around, then leaned in closer to
Daniel. "Thanks. Listen: make sure no one else snags her before
fatso--you know, the guy that was just here?--comes back. He's really
sweet on Trish here, and I sorta promised him that she'd spend a bit
of time one-on-one with him." He looked at Daniel meaningfully.

Daniel nodded noncommittally. "Sure..."

Robot Boy might have mistaken Daniel's own hesitation for suspicion,
because he looked around once more before whispering. "I know we're
not supposed to let the alums do that just yet... Not until later this
evening. But fatso gave me--let's just say he gave me a bit of an
incentive. Keep her close by until he gets back, and half of it is
yours. Okay?"

"Sure."

Robot Boy grinned and skittered away, while Daniel shivered, his gaze
going from the disappearing form of Robot Boy to Trish. A bit of time
one-on-one, Robot Boy had said. Trish was looking at Daniel, a gentle
smile on her face. Daniel knew exactly what he had meant. Jackson had
given him an outline of how the evening activities would be going. For
the next two hours, until ten, it was conversation and mingling and
generally social time, and the guests were allowed to be familiar with
the girls, get to know them, touch them, kiss them, but nothing
more. At ten, things would get more serious, and the guests will then
be allowed to spend time alone with the girls in rooms provided for
that purpose. With those girls programmed to obey any sort of
instruction, it did not take a genius to understand what would
happen. The short man from earlier had evidently decided he could not
wait a few hours to get Trish alone.

He looked at her, trying to mesh the vision before him with the girl
he remembered from a few outings with Jenn, the girl that was too shy
and self-conscious to show much skin, the girl that wore tights with
her cheerleading costume, the girl that saved herself for marriage
despite the pressure from her occasional boyfriends to put out. And
here she was, dressed in a thin black slip that clung to her body like
a second skin and showcased every curve of her body and exposed her
long legs and an ass tightened by years of gymnastics, perched on
heels so high that a single misstep would probably sideline her from
cheerleading and ruin her scholarship. And Daniel was sure that she
was a virgin no longer, her purity having been ripped away by the
fraternity long ago.

Trish took a step towards him, a smile on her pink-painted lips. "Hi,"
she said, her voice low, "you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're looking at me," continued Trish, looking down, almost
demure. "And it makes my nipples tingle and get hard when you look at
me." She looked up at him, innocent and eager. "Do you want to feel
them?" She thrust her chest out, proving that she was correct in her
assessment. Two very hard bumps topped the stretched black silk.

"Huh, maybe later, thanks." Daniel thought fast. He felt horrible for
the girl. He was here to save Jenn and Kyra, perhaps Serena--but every
girl here was a victim, someone that had hopes and dreams and deserved
to live their lives unimpeded. He had to try to save them too. But
how? "Listen--Trish, right?"

"You can call me whatever you want... Trish... girl... cunt..."

Daniel shook his head. "Listen to me, Trish. I want you to get dressed
and leave. Be quiet, try not to be seen, but grab your coat or
whatever clothes you had coming here, and leave this house and don't
come back." It was worth a shot.

Trish looked at him, blinking twice. "I'm sorry, I can't do
that. Scott told me to stay here and mingle with the guests. You are a
guest. I am mingling. I should do what the guests ask me, but within
the limits of my instructions. And leaving is outside of those. So I
can't leave. I'm sorry. Because I would really like to please you..."
She emphasized please, putting her hand on Daniel's chest and playing
with a dangling thread on his sash.

Scott must be Robot Boy, Daniel thought, the brother that triggered
her. According to Jackson and Cindy, a girl will only respond to
whomever triggered her, or whomever that person instructs the girl to
obey in turn--like Jackson had done with Cindy back at Radhu's place
earlier that evening. Maybe if I trigger her?

"Trish, I am your DIK brother," he said, looking her in the eyes.

The blonde looked down at his hands, and frowned before giggling
softly. "You're funny," she said, "and I do find funny sexy."

"Trish, I want you to get dressed and leave."

She shook her head softly. "I can't do that, I told you. And now I'm
thinking you don't like me because you want me to go away. Is there
anything--anything--I can do to make you want me to stay? I can be
very... accommodating..." She ran her fingers up to his neck, up the
sides of his face, her fingertips dancing softly on his skin.

As expected, the trigger had not worked. Her glance down at his hands
confirmed what he already knew, that he needed a fraternity
ring. Maybe he could steal one from someone, or borrow Jackson's?
Maybe. Focus, Daniel, he admonished himself. You got a job to
do. Don't get distracted.

"Okay, I understand. Do you mind if we talk a bit then?"

Trish made a sad face, and snuggled up closer. Daniel could feel the
heat of her body through his costume. "You just want to talk? I could
think of so many better things to do with our mouths..."

Daniel swallowed. Between Serena earlier and Trish now, this was
getting ridiculous. He felt like he was in a bad porn movie.

"Just talk for now, yes. Have you seen Jenn or Kyra around?"

"Who?" asked Trish, blowing gently into his neck. Her crotch was
pressed into his thigh, and she was rubbing it up and down slowly.

"Jenn? My fiancee? Your friend from English? Remember?"

"Oh yeah, Jenn, of course. She's a real dish. You must have a lot of
fun fucking her. I always thought she must be a real wildcat in
bed. I'd let her do me in a heartbeat--with a big strap-on, pumping in
and out, pulling my hair, making me scream. Mmm!..." Her rubbing
picked up, and her hands clenched on Daniel's back.

He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. "Have
you seen her tonight?"

"No, haven't seen her in... in a long time, really. Why? Do you want
to have a threesome? Is that what it'd take for you to run your hands
over my body? For me to join you and your fiancee in a long fuck
session? I'd do it--any time. We'd put on such a show for you you'd
come in your pants just watching us making out..."

"What about Kyra? Redhead Kyra? Have you seen her tonight?"

"No, haven't seen Kyra since last week. You hard for her too? She's
cute, and she's sub, did you know that? She loves being told what to
do. Makes her juice up like crazy. Tastiest honeyed pussy juice you've
ever had. And wanna know a secret?" She stepped into Daniel's arms,
pressing in close, her crotch against his hardening cock, and
whispered in his ear. "I juice up easy too. Fact is, I'm getting so
wet just speaking to you that I'm messing up my thong. Wanna feel?
Just slide your hand down there. But watch out--my pussy's gonna suck
your fingers right up. Fact is, she's liable to suck up anything that
gets close. Do you have anything my pussy and I can suck on?"

"How about Biff, Trish? Have you seen him?"

Daniel thought he saw Trish flinch slightly. It was subtle, but it was
there, in the back of her eyes. But she was pressing her breasts into
him again, practically purring, before he could ponder what he saw.

"You wanna double-team me with Biff? You are a naughty boy, aren't
you? Are you going to do me in the butt while Biff plows my pussy?
That'd be soooo hot!"

There was no discussing with her. Jackson had warned him. Cindy had
warned him. He thought Serena earlier had been bad, but this was
worse. Anything he said, anything he asked, was turned to innuendo and
flirty material by the blonde cheerleader. He realized he was
disappointed--he had wanted to probe her, ask her about her life as a
programmed slave, investigate whether she was happy, all in the
perhaps vain hope of learning more about what Jenn might be going
through. But it was hopeless.

He was contemplating ways of dragging Trish away from the party
without causing undue trouble when the decision was taken out of his
hands by the return of the short rotund man.

"Hello?" the man asked, looking at Trish in Daniel's arms, a slight
frown on his face. He had a hint of a foreign accent, something
vaguely British, and his voice was tinny, hitting notes on both high
and low harmonics simultaneously, which lent an odd uncertain effect
to his speech. He seemed to have rushed back from somewhere, as he was
out of breath and sweating more severely than earlier.

Trish did not seem to mind. "Lawrence!" she laughed, and moving away
from Daniel hugged the shorter man, who looked at Daniel curiously.

"Where is Scott?" asked the man.

Daniel shrugged. "He had to go somewhere. I'm his replacement. I think
he went to get something for Trish here. She's... huh... she's not
feeling very well."

"I am?" wondered Trish, who was rubbing herself against the man she
had called Lawrence. Daniel figured that she had been instructed to
favor alumni over students for the evening, a move consistent with the
intent of the party.

"Yeah, you were telling me you were feeling a bit feverish. Perhaps
you should lie down for a bit..."

Trish turned to Lawrence, who looked at her askance. "I guess I am
feeling a bit feverish. But that's just because I'm so hot for you,
Lawrence." She rubbed her face against his, and he dropped one of his
hands to her ass and squeezed it, making her squeal in delight.

"Perhaps this fellow is right," Lawrence replied, almost
giggling. "Perhaps you should lie down until you feel better. I shall
come with you to make sure you are taken care of."

Daniel shivered. The man was smarmy, and not in a good way.

"You gonna take my temperature, right? To make sure?" Trish asked,
twirling Lawrence tie around her finger while she pushed her right
knee between his legs. "You gonna put your thermometer in my mouth?
Unless you prefer to put it up my butt?"

Lawrence giggled again, as Daniel struggled to find a way to get Trish
away from the man. Unfortunately, Scott--Robot Boy--reappeared,
looking satisfied and surprised and happy to see Lawrence again.

"Ha! You're back," he said.  "Excellent! Thanks for keeping an eye,
man, appreciate it", he told Daniel. "As for you," he turned to
Lawrence, after looking around to make sure no one else was looking,
"here's the key to my room. Up the stairs, turn right, fifth door on
the right. There's a 2001 poster on the door." He handed a key to
Lawrence, who pocketed it and put an envelope back in Scott's
hand. "Thanks. And now," he turned to the blonde girl that was still
wiggling in Lawrence's arms, landing kisses all over the man's neck,
"Trish, I want you to listen to me. You are going to follow Lawrence
here and for the next half hour you are going to do everything he
tells you to do--except you cannot leave the frat house. And once the
half hour has elapsed, I want you to forget everything that has
happened, and come back here. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Scott," she replied, shivering slightly.

Cindy had told Daniel of the thrill of obeying the orders of a brother
that had you under his thrall--she described it as a thirsty sensation
down in her crotch, one that she knew full well could only be quenched
by a hard dick, the hard dick of the boy that uttered the trigger
sentence. For Cindy, who was in control of her actions even when she
was in the thrall of a brother, the drive were resistible. But for the
rest of the girls, it was a powerful overwhelming force, heightened by
every act of obedience that increased the level of arousal and its
attendant desire. Daniel read it all in Trish's eyes as she
internalized what Scott said.

Lawrence smiled widely, nodding to Scott. He offered his arm to Trish
before heading out towards the stairs, the blonde girl hanging on to
his arm with her hips swaying wildly as she tried to maintain as close
a contact with the short round man as she could. His hand had gone
back down to her ass, pawing her restlessly the whole way, pushing the
hem of her slip upwards to access more flesh.

"Here," said Scott, handing the envelope to Daniel after having
carefully removed several bills. "That's for you. Thanks for keeping
an eye on her."

Daniel hesitated, then grabbed the money. It would have looked
suspicious to do otherwise. "No problem," he said, trying to match
Scott's tone. "Easiest gig ever."

He patted Scott on the back and left, claiming other brothers to
relieve. He stared at the envelope again once he was out of sight. It
seemed to stare back at him, full of reproach. He had not only stood
there, powerless, watching Trish disappear with a man that he knew
would take advantage of her--the look in his eyes had been
unmistakable--but he had also been paid for it. Blood money. He did
not know what to do with it.

He shook his head. This was not a good way to start the evening. He
needed to focus. Jenn and Kyra. Everything else is secondary. He still
did not know what he would do if he saw Serena.

That was when he realized that he had been stupid. Really, really
stupid. Back at Radhu's apartment, he could have simply had Jackson
order Serena to stay at home for the evening, turn her phone off, and
not answer the door. If the Delta Iota Kappa boys had not been able to
get in touch with her, they would have been unable to trigger her and
order her to come to the party. Daniel felt so dumb he wanted to slam
his head against the wall. Why did he not think of that then? And now
it was probably too late. Serena was probably right here, at the
party, compelled to strut her body and flirt shamelessly with horny
frat boys and lecherous alumni.

He took a second to compose himself, to clear his head, before going
back to his search. He needed to find the girls and get out of there.


				* * *


Lawrence Biggby unlocked the door with the 2001 A Space Odyssey
poster, fighting with all of his might to maintain some semblance of
calm and composure. That little minx Trish had clung to him the whole
trip up the stairs, and the press of her big tits against his arm had
made concentrating on the steps difficult. The girl was hot, so much
better looking than those used-up tramps he usually found himself
with, there was no contest. Incredibly, he felt his prick try to swell
in his pants.

The room itself was pretty much as he had expected. Small, with a
single bed along one wall, a desk and a small bookshelf along another,
a recessed area with a sitting chair, and a closet. In typical
dormitory fashion, the room was a mess, with clothes strewn about
haphazardly, and the walls were covered with posters from old
science-fiction movies with the odd popular female singer in a
come-hither pose mixed in. Lawrence did not know whether to chuckle or
to hurl.

He let Trish walk in after him, admiring the sway of her ass in her
thin slip as she did. Jesus, is she fine or what? he groaned inside.

He closed the door behind him, locking it.

Trish turned to him, looking expectant. For a moment, he
hesitated. This was so different than all the other times, he almost
did not know how to proceed. Usually, the girl would ask him what he
wanted, all business, hashing out the terms of the deal. Not this
time. Trish just stood there, looking at him, waiting.

Waiting for me to tell her what to do, he thought, still unable to
fully comprehend what the boy, Scott, had told him. That Trish here
would do anything he wanted, anything he asked, anything he ordered,
with enthusiasm, eagerness, pleasure. No matter how vile or degrading,
this gorgeous tall blonde would submit to whatever desires Lawrence
had with nary a complaint.

He took a step towards the blonde--who was taller than he was with her
slut heels, something he was used to but which still galled him
somewhat--and Trish understood correctly. She leaned into him and
kissed him, her lips parting in the same movement. Her kiss was wet,
very wet, as she moaned and rubbed herself against him like a pussy in
heat. Her hands were on his back, and he self-consciously felt his
sweat, pooled underneath his shirt and jacket, clammy against his
skin. To distract himself, he ran his own hands down her back, down to
her ass, her incredibly tight ass, perky and round and soft and
practically naked underneath her slip.

"Jesus Christ, girl," he panted, breaking the kiss. "How do you get an
ass like that?"

Trish smiled, pressing her groin against his hipbone, as if she was
trying to rub her clit to get herself off. She did not look him in the
eye. "Cheerleading's great for the body."

"A cheerleader? You are a bloody cheerleader? Seriously?" He looked
her up and down--he had noticed that she was athletic and toned, but
would not have guessed cheerleading. It was
so... stereotypical. Blonde, hot, with long legs and big tits.

Trish nodded. "I am. Since sophomore year."

Lawrence pawed her ass some more, unable to get his mind off the feel
of her flesh. "A bloody cheerleader! Complete with short skirt and
tight top and shaking your ass for the pleasure of those American
Football animals, I wager?" He slipped his hands underneath the thin
string of what he imagined what her thong, pressing his sweaty palms
against the impossibly soft flesh and running a finger up her ass
crack.

Trish shivered, and rubbed her crotch harder against his hipbone,
practically humping him. "I do have a complete uniform that boys seem
to like."

Lawrence grinned. "I'm sure they do at that. Bloody hell--I've never
had a real cheerleader! I watch you on the tube sometimes, you know,
in your tight little outfits, those little skirts that rise up so
easily, exposing your undies to everyone that cares to look. Do you
like it when every man has his eyes on you, watching your big titties
bounce around when you jump, waiting to get a peek under your skirt,
imagining they're sliding between your legs and shoving their prick
into your well-used fuck hole? Do you? Is it true what they say, that
all cheerleaders are sluts that gives themselves up to all the players
on the team? Is it? Are you a slut? Are you a blonde cheerleading
slut?" Lawrence was sweating profusely now, between getting worked up
at the image he was conjuring up in his own mind and the sensations of
Trish rubbing her body against his, thrusting her big tits into his
face. She was so warm, so soft, and the pressure of those big orbs
against his skin was so tantalizing that he clenched his hands on her
ass, pulling her forward against him and making her gasp.

She ground herself against his crotch, looking at him in the eyes. "I
can be as slutty as you want, Lawrence. I can be your blonde
cheerleading slut tonight, if that's your wish. What do you want me to
do? What fantasy do you have, Lawrence? What can this slutty blonde
cheerleader do to make your dreams come true?"

She still managed to look demure, he thought--wholesome, innocent,
despite her words and despite the undulations of her hips against
him. If it was an act, it was an incredible act. Maybe what the boy
Scott said was true--she was going to obey his every wish? This was
turning out so differently from his usual encounters that he was
almost lost.

Almost. "How about we start with a nice cheerleader blow job, like you
give to your jock friends, huh?"

Trish smiled. "Of course. One slutty blonde cheerleader blow job,
coming right up."

She sank to her knees, making sure her tits rubbed against him the
whole way down.

Lawrence groaned. "Too bad you don't have your uniform with you. I
wager you must be sexy on your knees with your slutty cheerleading
skirt running up your thighs," he said, as Trish unfastened his belt
and pulled down his pants.

She did not answer. Instead. she took his semi-hard prick in her hand
and slurped it into her mouth.

Lawrence clenched his hand in her long blonde hair. She did not give
him any time to get used to the sensations, and started bobbing her
head up and down forcefully, sucking him in deep and using her tongue
and lips to great effect.

The feel of her big tits bumping against his thighs as she sucked, of
her hands on the back of his legs traveling up to his butt, of her
forehead thumping against his flabby stomach as she bobbed down, all
of it served to arouse his passion.

It felt good, amazingly good. And incredibly, he felt his prick
getting even harder. The girl was really phenomenal to get such a rise
out of him. He did not remember ever being so erect without... without
extra stimulation. He was maybe three-quarters stiff, and it was easy
for the blonde cheerleader to take his whole prick in her mouth, which
made it even better for Lawrence.

Trish did a wondrous job on his prick, giving some of the best head he
had ever received. She slurped, drooled, jacked his prick with one
hand while the other wandered off to caress his balls or his butt. At
some point she pulled down the top of her black slip and her big tits
sprang free, and Lawrence freely pawed them, fascinated with the hard
nipples.

His initial excitement faded somewhat though, and after five minutes
his three-quarters erect prick softened to half mast. Lawrence sighed,
his frustration welling up for a moment deep inside him. Maybe tonight
would not be so different than usual, then.

Trish had let him slide out of her mouth, slowly jacking him off with
a hand, a slightly puzzled look on her face. Lawrence had seen such a
look before, many times, and he repressed a wave of frustration. She
did not understand. She could not understand. It was okay. It was not
her fault. And she was a cheerleader. A real bona fide cheerleader,
and she was sucking him off. That had gotten him harder than he ever
had without special help. She had done better than could be hoped for.

He took a deep breath. "Get on the bed."

Trish smiled up at him, still stroking his half-flaccid prick. "You
gonna fuck your little cheerleader now?"

The way she said that, her beautiful face framed by her blonde hair,
her pink lips, the young unblemished skin, was surreal, and his prick
jerked once.

Lawrence watched her stand up and head towards the bed, which had not
been made. He stepped out of his pants pooled around his ankles, and
took off his jacket, which he folded on the back of the chair after
pulling out from the right pocket a small switchblade knife and a pair
of handcuffs, those items that he had gone out to grab from his car
earlier. He took off his shirt and his tie, laying them over his
jacket. Naked, he brushed his fingers along the long line of small
parallel scars running up his right forearm like tiny notches on a
bedpost. The feeling reassured him. He was loved. Tonight would go
well after all.

He watched Trish discard her shoes and pull her slip over her head,
leaving her clad in a ridiculously small black thong that matched the
slip. Without pausing, she slid the diminutive material down her long
legs. Her ass was fantastic, looking as good as it had felt
earlier. When she turned around, he saw the thin strip of blonde hair
on her pussy, trimmed close. A pristine blonde cheerleader twat, he
thought, and his prick jerked once again, although less than
before. Time for some help.

While she was climbing on the bed, on all fours, he quietly flicked
the switch on the knife and the blade sprung out. Just as quietly, he
ran it over his right forearm, adding another parallel line to those
already there, this one turning a bright crimson as blood flowed
out. He watched with calm, and he could feel his prick respond,
hardening almost to full mast. He folded the knife and watched the
blonde girl flip onto her back, her legs spread wide. She had not seen
him. He had become good at camouflage. The sting in his arm kept
sending pleasurable waves throughout his body. He was loved.

Trish was softly running her hands up her thighs all the way to her
pussy, looking at him with her mixture of innocence and
flirtation. She eyed his erection, now standing up proudly, and
smiled, licking her lips.

"How about we play a game?" asked Lawrence.

"A game?"

"Yes, a game. How about, `slutty cheerleader has to submit to nasty
coach to keep her place in the team?' " He lifted his handcuffs, half
expecting the girl to bolt.

She did not. Trish shivered--Lawrence saw her pussy pulse from where
he was standing--and lifted her arms over her head, joined at the
wrist. "Please, sir," she cooed, in a little girl's voice, "I really
want to be on the team. You can have me if you
want. Anytime. Anywhere. I'm a real good fuck." She shook her hips on
the bed, slowly, mimicking coitus.

Lawrence grinned and snapped her wrists together with the handcuffs,
running the short chain through the headboard. He reached down to pick
up Trish's thong from the floor, and inhaled deeply. The smell of her
arousal hit him hard. He grunted. "You even smell like a slut. You
can't wait to get your little cheerleading twat filled, can't you?"

Trish undulated on the bed, spreading her legs even wider. Her eyes
were on his, hungry. He had never seen a girl react like her
before. The girls he paid were utterly unable to convey any real
emotion. Not this girl. The sting on his arm throbbed, and his prick
followed suit.

"Can't have you bother your teammates with your cries of pleasure, can
we? They'd know you put out to win a spot on the team. Here," and he
presented the thong to her mouth.

Trish knew what he wanted, and did not resist--in fact she opened her
mouth wide to accept the material, which Lawrence pushed through deep
enough to gag her, but not enough to impede her breathing. The thong
was too wispy for that in any case.

He scrambled between her spread legs, his prick softening slightly
despite the vision of loveliness before him--a naked blonde
cheerleader, legs open wide and exposing a ravishing snatch damp with
moisture, tits defying gravity and begging to be pawed, a beautiful
face looking at him with desire in her eyes. Switching out the blade
of his knife, he nicked his right arm again, the delicious stab of
pain quickly followed by another surge of blood which made his prick
jerk and rise up at attention.

He looked carefully at Trish--this was usually the time when a girl
would panic, and when he would have to take more drastic steps--but
she did not react in any way. She looked at the knife but did not show
any hint of curiosity, even after he slashed his forearm. She twisted
her hip upwards to try to move her snatch closer to his prick, and
looked at him with desire still in her eyes. She moaned through the
makeshift gag.

With his renewed erection, Lawrence leaned over the blonde cheerleader
and as if guided by an invisible hand his prick slid between the
girl's slicked pussy lips and deep into her gash. He sunk in without
any difficulty, the girl's lust sucking him in forcefully. While she
could not wrap her arms around him because of the handcuffs, she
hooked her legs in the back of his and using them as leverage press
him harder inside of her, pushing her groin upwards in
counterpoint. She moaned.

Lawrence grunted--he was sinking his prick into molten lava. He was
burning. The way she was clasping him down there, it was unlike
anything he had ever experienced. He rocked back and forth a few
times, overwhelmed by the sensations, and then let himself collapse on
top of the cheerleader, his face coming to rest by one of her big fat
tits that he grabbed with a hand and squeezed.

He fucked her like that for a few minutes, grasping her tits, licking
the side of her face, panting over her, while she twisted and bucked
underneath him, trying to rub herself against him as much as
possible. She came at some point, Lawrence was pretty sure, again a
completely new experience for him. The prostitutes he had lain with
before had never come.

Predictably, he felt his erection grow slack, the novelty of having a
pliant and hungry twat squeezing his prick fading. He faced up to the
blonde cheerleader, his breath ragged, the exertion making his
gasp. "I love you," he said, and she looked at him with an enigmatic
look in her eyes, as if she did not understand, or did not care, but
was happy he looked happy. "And I will show you how much I love
you..." He lifted his knife to her face for her to see. The blade
caught the light. Trish looked at the blade without reaction, before
returning her eyes to him and pressing her groin against his.

He put the edge of the blade against her cheek, pressing softly, and
drew the knife down. A line appeared on her skin, filling in rapidly
with deep red blood. Trish gasped, but did not move, except for
shifting her hips and trying to drive his prick deeper into her. At
the sight of his love for her, Lawrence grew hard again, and pushed
into her with all of his weight. He felt her twat squeeze him
rhythmically, a steady pulse of pleasure ripping through him.

He pressed himself against the blonde cheerleader, his head beside
hers, turning his face towards her untouched cheek. The feel of her
big tits against his chest was amazing, the feel of her legs around
his waist incredible, the feel of her twat squeezing him
extraordinary. She was so beautiful. So lovable. Rutting into her, he
raised the knife and softly but firmly ran it down the bridge of her
nose, cutting through the soft skin. "I love you," he whispered. His
prick stiffened at the renewed sight of her blood.

Trish did not answer. She was shivering, her body gripped in the
pleasure of doing what he wanted her to do. But a tear pearled at the
corner of the eye that Lawrence could see.

He raised himself up and looked deep into her eyes. Her body was
reacting one way, squirming in pleasure against his, her pelvis
thrusting up to rub her clit against the base of his prick deeply
embedded into her, but her eyes--her eyes told a different
story. Where he had seen love and lust and desire earlier he now saw
fear--he saw the same fear that all the girls he had ever loved always
displayed, the same terror, the same revulsion. He loved them, and
they hated him back. He thought this one would be different--but she
was not. Yet her body danced underneath his like she was. It was
confusing.

Lawrence followed the blood dripping from the two cuts on the girl's
face, feeling his prick react, and feeling her twat react to his
reaction. If he got rid of her look of terror, he could convince
himself she was as she was before, willing and happy to receive his
love. The thought of gouging out her eyes with the knife in his hand
flashed unbidden in his mind, before he rejected it in a wave of
disgust. It was a sickening thought--he closed his eyes and took a
deep breath to assuage the nausea that had gripped him.

Trish was still staring at him, while her hands caressed his back and
her legs urged him to keep on fucking her. With an effort, he slid out
of the girl and stood up. He went to the chair and grabbed his
tie. Returning to the bed, he watched the blonde cheerleader
whimpering on the bed while twisting her hips into another simulacrum
of sex. He wrapped his tie around her head as a blindfold.

He climbed back on the bed, and lay down between her legs to resume
fucking her. She accepted him back inside her with a loud
moan. Without her eyes looking at him in horror, he could bask in the
astonishing feelings of mounting a girl that wanted to be mounted,
whose body cried for his like his cried for hers--who loved him like
he loved her.

For he did love her, and he proved it to her repeatedly, sliding his
knife over her face, her chest, her stomach, cutting the beautiful
pale skin in crisscrossing patterns. He ran the blade over her
breasts, dipping here and there, carving long lines that cried his
love. Blood ran freely, pooling underneath her on the bed. He knew
what he was doing; the cuts were not deep enough to kill her--he did
not want her to die, he did not want anyone to die--but they would
scar over like his own on his arms, a lasting tribute to his yearning
and his passion.

And throughout, he rutted deep into the blonde cheerleader, his prick
pulsing with every incision, his excitement mounting with every kiss
of the blade. Trish writhed with his every thrust, trying to pull him
in close, pull him in deeper, pull him in harder. She was moaning
through her gag, seeking his lips when his face leaned close, trying
to kiss him but unable to do so correctly with her thong in her
mouth. Her twat was milking him forcefully, as it spasmed and spasmed
in a long continuous orgasm.

When Lawrence felt he was approaching his own climax, as the pressure
in his groin increased and he knew that he could not prevent his
release even if he wanted to, he thrust deeply into the welcoming
blonde, slid the blade of his knife over one of her hardened nipples,
and pressed. As the fleshy nubbin split open, Trish stiffened and
screamed in her gag--whether in pain or ecstasy Lawrence did not know
and would not find out, because at that same instant he came hard,
emptying himself into the cheerleader that had given him her body so
freely. Trish clutched him, pulling her body up against his body,
rubbing her face against his face, squeezing his butt cheeks with her
hands. Lawrence knew, just knew, in his coital haze, that she would
have been giving him a scorching mind-blowing soul kiss at that
instant had she been able to.

He collapsed on top of her, his body soaking in her slowly coagulating
blood, catching his breath. He looked at her, coming down from her own
high, her face smeared with red turning to brown. He wanted to run the
knife over her perfect lips, to add to their perfection, but he was
too drained for a second round.

"I love you," he whispered, caressing her forehead and one of the many
deep gashes he had drawn there as a token.

Trish shivered at his words, and clutched him close, moaning. She
seemed ready for a second round even if he was not.

"It's true what they say about cheerleaders, then," he said with a
slight chuckle. "They're insatiable."

She was still writhing against him when he left the ruined bed. He
looked at her, handcuffed to the headboard, blindfolded, gagged, body
etched with love lines. She was rubbing her thighs together as though
she needed to soothe a deep itch, moaning softly. She was beautiful.

He pulled the covers of the bed out from underneath her, and wrapped
them around her, leaving her head clear so she could breathe. Grabbing
her discarded black slip from the floor, he wiped his body of the
layer of blood he had acquired, then put his clothes back on. He had
to forgo the tie, but it was an acceptable loss. He cleaned his knife
and pocketed it.

Searching through drawers, he found a tube of instant glue. Looking at
the girl wrapped up in bed, still moaning with desire, he felt his
prick twitch, and debated whether he did have the energy for a second
round. He finally shook his head and left the room.

Locking the door behind him, he squeezed half the tube of glue into
the locking mechanism. Stopping by the restroom further down on the
floor, he checked himself in the mirror, wiped a stray line of blood
from his forehead, and tossed the key to Scott's room into the toilet
before flushing.


				* * *


Over at Daniel's apartment--the apartment he used to share with Jenn,
she kept reminding herself--Cindy twirled the USB key that Radhu had
given her between her fingers. She was frustrated. She was stuck at
home, while the boys went to do their boy thing. She knew she was
being unfair, knew the risks involved in trying to infiltrate the
fraternity party, but knowledge did not make inactivity any easier to
stomach. Perhaps she should have stayed with Radhu, helped him keep an
eye on Daniel and Jackson from a distance. Perhaps...

She eyed her phone on the coffee table. She was trying hard not to
call Daniel every five minutes to check up on him. I'm acting like a
mothering girlfriend, she thought, shaking her head at the situation
she found herself in, not entirely displeased with it.

Of course, she had to keep in mind that one of the reasons--if not the
only reason--Daniel was at the fraternity party was to get his fiancee
back. What if he did come back with her, what if he did get her out
from under Biff's clutches? Cindy was torn. On the one hand, she
wanted that for him. He and Jenn loved each other, and they were
perfect for each other. On the other hand, were Jenn to come back,
Cindy knew that she would lose Daniel, even though she did not really
have him in any sense of the word, for he did not love her the way he
loved Jenn. What's a girl to do? she wondered.

She sighed, ever the pragmatic. We'll cross that bridge when we get
there, won't we?

She stared at the USB key. The data from the Delta Iota Kappa
computers. Radhu had mentioned that some of the data was encrypted and
he had not cracked the encryption yet. What better way to while away
the time than by losing oneself in a difficult technical problem? Her
cryptanalysis skills were pretty basic, but she had nothing else to do
except sit and worry.

She fired up Daniel's computer, inserted the USB key, and settled down
to work. She kept her cell phone nearby, in case Daniel called.


				* * *


Near the entrance hall of the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity, his back to
the statue of a faceless woman bearing a Roman toga and carrying a
covered basket, Daniel watched Jackson walk back towards him. From the
look of anxiety in the young man's face, Daniel figured his search had
been as fruitless as his own.

Jackson confirmed it as soon as he was near. "Nothing."

Daniel nodded. "Same here. No one's seen Jenn, Kyra, or Biff, or know
of their whereabouts."

Jackson stared at the statue for a second before turning around and
facing the crowd, like Daniel was doing. The tone of the party had
shifted somehow, early formality having been replaced by a relaxed
bonhomie--for alums, ties had been loosened, shirt collars unbuttoned,
jackets discarded, while the girls where even more demonstrative,
pressing against them without being prompted, touching, kissing, often
having half slipped out of their lingerie and presenting their bare
chests to the men, who caressed and played with the proffered breasts
freely, almost offhandedly. Even the brothers took advantage of the
flesh on display and ran their hands over the girls' bodies. There
were more women around as well, Daniel noticed, still dressed
skimpily, although costumed, and he figured that those were dates and
girlfriends and the likes. How they could justify to themselves what
was happening to their fellow sisters was a bit of a mystery to him.

"Something's off," said Jackson, out of the blue.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. Some of the guys are... nervous. On edge. Remind me a
bit of a scrimmage line before the snap, you know? Especially when I
asked about Biff."

Daniel looked at Jackson, trying to understand what the young man was
saying. "I noticed them reacting weird when I asked about Biff, but I
thought that's just because he wasn't really liked..."

"Well, that's true, he's not liked, but the reaction is usually either
annoyance or apprehension. This time, it's more like... I don't
know. That's the thing. I don't know what's going on. I don't think I
like it."

Daniel grunted. "I'm sure I like it even less."

His eyes fell on a man coming down the stairs at the far end of the
entrance hall. It was the man that Trish had called Lawrence, the
pudgy man that she had left with earlier, the one whose money burned a
hole in Daniel's shirt. The short man looked satisfied with himself,
and Daniel grimaced at the thought of what he must have been doing to
poor Trish upstairs. He should go and check that she was fine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the front door of the fraternity
house opening abruptly and a loud voice ringing over the background
music. "Police! Quiet down! Who's in charge?"

A police officer, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, face
hard, stood in the entryway, hands on her hips. She looked fierce,
despite her delicate latina features and her thin frame. Her eyes told
much of the story, looking like they could snap you in two before you
could do more than snicker at her stature.

She let those same eyes range over the guests that had naturally
formed a semicircle away from her. "I said, who's in charge here?"

"That would be me, officer," said Kevin Cusker, stepping into the
space around the police officer. "How can I help you?"

"We've had reports of an unscheduled party with illegal activity, and
I'm here to check it out." She let her eyes roam around the round once
more, and Daniel picked up on a certain level of nervousness from the
guests. With their masks, of course, their expressions were mostly
unreadable, but their body language suggested they were getting ready
to do something. What exactly was unclear.

"Please, Officer...?"

"Gonzales."

"Please, Officer Gonzales, no need to be so harsh. I can assure you,
as president of this fraternity," and at that point Kevin made a grand
gesture encompassing the hall and the guests and the rest of the
house, "that there is no illegal activity on the premises. At least,
not yet. But your arrival is the prelude to your evening more
interesting activities." He stepped towards Officer Gonzales and
raised his hand, palm facing in. "Sonya," he said, his voice low, "I
am your DIK brother."

Officer Sonya Gonzales stiffened as her gaze shifted to the ring on
Kevin's hand, and her forceful stance relaxed and her face
softened. "Vivo para servir," she replied in a quiet voice.

"I know you do," said Kevin. He leaned over and whispered something in
her ear. She nodded in response, her face glowing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Kevin, turning and addressing the
guests. "I shall let Officer Sonya Gonzales, of the North Alexandria
Police Force, have the honor of opening the second part of the evening
festivities. Sonya, take it away."

With a flourish, Kevin gestured, and the lights dimmed and a deep
thrumming beat started up on the sound system. The guests immediately
shushed as they watched Officer Sonya Gonzales, of the North
Alexandria Police Force, start to sway her body to the music, bumping
her hips and thrusting her chest out.

The guests cheered when she undid her bun and her long black hair fell
down over her shoulders, and cheered some more when she danced around
the semicircle formed around her, unbuttoning her regulation blouse
before tossing it towards a small group of costumed Delta Iota Kappa
boys that shouted encouragements in response. Her flimsy bra went in a
similar way, and soon the latina officer was clad in only her pants
and boots, shaking a pair of breasts that seemed too large for her
frame to the vocal delight of the frat boys surrounding her, and the
tamer but no less appreciative looks of the older alumni. The women in
the audience looked at her with a mixture of amusement and
superiority, while the DIK girls paid her no mind, directing their
attention and their affection to the guest they were with.

Jackson elbowed Daniel. "Is she real?"

"A real cop you mean?"

"Yeah."

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. She looks real enough. I think I've
seen her around. Cindy said that some of the police were in on the
whole girl-programming thing, for protection most likely, and I guess
one way to ensure their cooperation is to provide them with girls. Not
sure if that's what's going on here, but hey, wouldn't put it past
your brothers to do just that." He could not help the bitterness seep
into his voice. Jackson was a big guy, he figured. He could take the
implied criticism.

Jackson did not respond, returning his attention to the half-naked
police officer shaking her assets before an increasingly lively
crowd. A big smile on her face, hands on her breasts pressing them
upwards, she eyed one of the alumni and made a gesture to call him
over. He looked surprised as she nodded, and he stepped into the
circle after handing over his glass to a friend.

He stood still as Officer Gonzales danced around him, and ended up
pressing her back to his chest and moving her rear end to and fro,
rubbing her ass against his crotch. The guests cheered when he finally
reached over with his hands and grabbed her breasts, a move that
seemed to delight the policewoman who rubbed her ass harder against
him.

In one smooth motion, she slid to the ground at the man's feet, and
twisted onto her back to lift her feet to his chest. She mouthed
something to him that Daniel did not catch from where he was standing,
but the man unlaced the boots that Officer Gonzales was wearing and
pulled them off her feet along with her socks. Meanwhile, Gonzales had
unsnapped her pants and rather fetchingly slid them off partly by
raising her ass off the ground, and the man pulled them off after
discarding the boots.

Clad in only a pair of thin panties, Officer Gonzales twisted her way
back up and danced almost naked around the man and then around the
group of guests cheering her on, thrusting her chest in the face of
the ones closest to her, letting them grope for a second before moving
on. Somewhere along the way her panties had managed to slide down her
legs and were tossed into the crowd, and she was left completely
naked, whirling to the music, pressing on and off against the man that
was still left standing in the middle of the circle.

When the music came to a close, Officer Gonzales jumped onto the man,
and ground herself against him, kissing him deeply and
passionately. They both collapsed down together, and she ended up on
top of him, still kissing him hungrily, humping against him as he put
his arms around her to press his hands against her ass.

Kevin's voice rose up at that point, with the music picking up again
and the lights turning a strange mixture of red and blue, "Ladies and
Gentlemen, a big cheer for Officer Sonya Gonzales! She will be
available the rest of the day for your pleasure. May I suggest you go
find her if you have some issues with authority--she will do her best
to address those." The crowd laughed at the joke, but Daniel could see
many of the older alumni glance at each other.

Kevin continued. "And now let the real party begin! Rooms are
available for you upstairs if you want privacy, every other room down
here also available. Our girls are now at your complete disposal, to
do with as you please. I suggest you let them tell you what they can
do, they can do so much more interestingly than I can. Ecstasy and
viagra can be found at any of the bars, feel free to partake. Other
drugs are on hand as well, just as our bartenders for what's
available. Have a good time, folks!"

Here we go, thought Daniel, watching the party devolve into an orgy
right before his eyes. The guests, which had been snuggling up to the
girls up until that point, all at once became more enterprising,
seemingly feeling no restraint against diving in and grasping breasts
and asses and pawing them and kissing them and running their hands all
over the girls' bodies, stripping them. The girls, in turn, were
rubbing the crotches of the guests more openly, sometimes even
unbuttoning them and sliding their hands down pants. Fraternity
brothers in bright costumes walked around and distributed pills to
couples as well as drinks and other party favors, and everyone,
including the girls that had arrived as dates or just as guests
partook of the offerings.

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Officer Sonya Gonzales was
getting fucked, riding hard on top of the man she had singled out
earlier.

Daniel turned to Jackson, shaking his head. "This is turning out even
worse than I thought. We're never gonna find them now."

"I wouldn't be so sure," replied Jackson. There was barely controlled
anger in his voice. He pointed to one end of the hallway.

It took Daniel a few minutes before he saw what Jackson had
seen. Recognizing Kyra was the tip-off. She was down on the floor on
her hands and knees, a chain around her neck, dressed in the widely
recognizable metallic gold bikini of Princess Leia. The chain was held
by a tall and broad-shouldered man in a costume meant to represent
Jabba the Hutt. Biff, recognized Daniel. Clinging to his arm was a
tall slim girl with a perfectly toned and generously oiled body fully
exposed by a tiny metallic blue bra and an indecently short metallic
blue skirt and perched on precarious blue spike heels. Even though her
face was hidden by an equally recognizable Bobba Fett helmet, every
line of Jenn's body was seared into Daniel's brain.

Daniel put a restraining arm on Jackson, who seemed ready to spring at
the trio. "Calm down--not now. We know they're here, that's
good. Let's just make sure we don't lose track of them, and wait until
they're in a corner by themselves." He reassured himself that the
taser was still hidden in his sash.

Jackson made an effort to control himself. Daniel watched him
carefully. He would not allow himself to give way to his own anger and
he was not about to let Jackson give way to his.

They stood by the statue, drinks in hand, trying to appear
inconspicuous, as they watched Biff, flanked by Jenn and leading Kyra
by her chain, slowly make their way up the hall. Once in a while, Biff
would stop and talk to a brother, or to an alumnus, one arm
protectively wrapped around Jenn. He let some of the men reach out and
touch Jenn's chest, sometimes even parting the blue bra so they could
paw a naked breast. Jenn would pose to present herself at her best,
thrusting her chest out, inviting the attention and the touch.

When they walked, Biff would often jerk on Kyra's chain to make her go
faster, something that was clearly difficult for the crawling
redhead. Eventually, evidently tired of the effort, Biff pulled her
upright and allowed her walk behind him, although she still had the
chain around her neck and she kept her head bowed. She was very
popular with the fraternity brothers, who seemed delighted with her
costume, and she was touched and pinched and kissed left and right,
something that Biff clearly encouraged.

Daniel heard Jackson gasp when a young man dressed up as Green Arrow
approached Biff and the two girls and after a quick look around
grabbed Kyra by the waist and pulled her to him for a deep kiss.

"The fucking bastard..." growled Jackson, and Daniel had to pull him
hard to keep him from bouncing out.

"Jackson--calm down!" A few guests close to them eyed them curiously.

In the distance, Green Arrow was talking to Biff, while Kyra was
rubbing herself against the newcomer's leather clad body. Jenn was
still clinging to Biff's arm, posing, but not otherwise engaged.

"That fucking bastard!" repeated Jackson, his voice wavering, trying
to escape Daniel's grasp.

"Jackson! Fuck! Stop it! What's wrong with you?"

Jackson was furious. "What do you mean what's wrong with me? Are you
fucking blind? That... that piece of shit Brad's had his eye on Kyra
since forever, and he lied to my face before--he wants her for
himself, and I'm gonna bet my ass that that fucker Biff is going to
let him have her! So I'm gonna go down there and fuck him up!"

"Jesus, calm down! Do you want to help Kyra or not?"

Jackson, overflowing with undirected anger, shook his arm free. "Look,
man, I'm not like you, all cool and collected and shit, okay? Maybe
you can take seeing your girl pawed like a fuckin' whore, but I can't,
okay? I just can't!"

Daniel slammed Jackson into the wall, which definitely got the
attention of several more guests. "Listen to me!" he hissed. "I'm
going to let that one go because I know exactly how you feel, how much
it burns inside. But I also know that if we go down there, yeah, maybe
we're going to get a few punches in, maybe we're going to take one of
those guys down, but the rest of the gang are going to turn on us
presto, and at the end of it all we'll have missed our chance of
getting Jenn and Kyra out of here. And that's our only goal, you hear
me? To get them out of here! Anything else is secondary--revenge,
payback, anything. We get them out of here! Got it?"

Jackson had struggled for the first half of Daniel's tirade, but was
calmer by the end of it, holding Daniel's gaze
uncomfortably. "Yeah... got it." He took a deep breath. "Sorry, it's
just that..."

Daniel nodded. He understood. But they had to stay focused. Once they
got Jenn and Kyra out, they could decide the form their revenge would
take. But until then, there was only one goal.

Daniel glared at one of the guests who was staring at them, and the
man, wearing a silver suit, looked away quickly. Turning his attention
back to Jenn, he saw Biff and Brad talking to each other, their heads
close together. Brad pointed, and Biff looked in that
direction. Daniel tried to figure where they were looking, and all he
could see was Kevin, surrounded by a group of guests that included the
president of the university, James Calhoun.

Brad, after a few more exchanges with Kevin and another long deep kiss
with Kyra, left the small group and edged his way towards Kevin. Biff,
followed by Jenn and Kyra, headed into the crowd of guests. Daniel
nodded to Jackson, who had been following the action as well, and they
trailed the trio.

Biff was moving quickly through the crowd, with Jenn keeping pace
easily with long strides, and Kyra struggling to keep up--why was not
clear until Daniel was close enough to see the chain linking her
ankles together. Biff yanked on Kyra's neck chain every few minutes to
pull her forward, and Jackson growled every time that happened.

The trio headed for the stairs, and Biff did not stop for anyone
despite both guests and brothers casting admiring glances at the two
girls with him and asking him if they could play with them too. Jenn
smiled happily to every such request, while Kyra kept her head down
and shuffled on trying not to trip.

Daniel and Jackson followed them up the stairs. The trio made their
way towards a quieter area in the back of the house that forced
Daniel and Jackson to stay back further than Daniel would have
wanted.

Biff finally stopped before an arch, leaning over to say something to
Jenn and Kyra. Daniel saw his chance. He told Jackson to keep an eye
out for anyone coming in behind them, and then took out the taser from
his sash after checking that the syringe was still in his inside
pocket. Step one, incapacitate Biff. Step two, knock out Jenn and
Kyra. Step three, leave. He wondered whether Radhu found the action
exciting on his video feed.

Keeping close to the wall, he approached the trio. Jenn and Kyra were
a few feet away from Biff, who seemed to be concentrating on something
as if he were getting mentally ready, Jenn having a hold of Kyra's
chain and running her hand in the back of the redhead. The two girls
walked into the archway, and disappeared.

Daniel stepped closer. He wanted to be close enough that he could
shoot the taser without missing, but not so close as to be seen. The
taser had a range of maybe five yards. When he was four yards away,
Daniel had his chance. He aimed the taser, and fired.

Everything happened quickly, yet in slow motion. Daniel heard the
shout a fraction of a second before pressing the trigger. "There he
is!" rang a voice from behind him. Serena? He turned his head to see
the black girl pointing at him while standing over a Jackson sprawled
at the feet of a tall blonde man.

Whether the shout distracted Daniel at just the wrong moment, or
whether it warned Biff in time, the end effect was the same--Biff had
turned around and the taser probes, rather than connect squarely into
his back, merely glanced off his arm ineffectively.

Biff wasted no time in reacting, taking a step towards Daniel and
smacking the taser out of his hands.

Daniel sent a fist in Biff's general direction, and it connected with
the larger man's hardened stomach. Biff laughed the blow off and
grabbed Daniel into a chokehold. "I was sorta waiting for Kevin, but
you're an unexpected bonus. Still, we gotta take care of you before
the cousin shows up. Guys!" he shouted towards the room where Jenn and
Kyra had disappeared. Five large fraternity brothers came out and
stopped short, looking at Biff wonderingly. He nodded towards the
taser on the ground. "Get me that. Then grab Nils before he runs
away."

Daniel had no time to speculate over what was going on before Biff
took the proffered taser and jammed it into his ribs, letting him go
while he pressed the trigger. Daniel's world ignited and he collapsed
to the ground, unable to control his limbs. And then everything went
black.