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On the recreational fields near the University, on a sunny day that was warm and pleasant, a group of fraternity gentlemen accompanied by many a fair lady gathered together in a philanthropic celebration, hoping to accrue funds in order to assist their chosen beneficiary. The celebration was rousing and enthusiasm for the cause was high.
“CANCER’S FUCKING GAY!” shouted one of the fraternity members as the crowd roared with approval while he shotgunned a beer.
“No man, this is for like retarded babies that didn’t get all the way killed by Plan B or something,” replied a nearby brother. “That’s why all the pledges are wearing diapers and helmets.”
“Oh, well…LET’S GET RETARDED SO THE BABIES DON’T HAVE TO!” the first brother shouted to correct himself before he raised another beer. Again his cry was met with thunderous approval.
Nearby the fraternity pledges were indeed clad in Depends Diapers and various bicycle helmets, offensively yet affectionately portraying the children the philanthropy intended to benefit. While all across the field the celebration raged, a variety of alcohols were being consumed so voraciously that any sorority girls in attendance who were unknowingly with child, of which there were seven, would soon be finding themselves as beneficiaries of the philanthropy at which they were currently drinking their future children’s minds into a simplistic oblivion.
At the far end of the field sat a small building that housed the park’s restrooms. Inside the lavatory it was dark and damp, like a cave, but with more puddles of urine. On most days it served as a place for the town’s homeless population to relieve themselves, sleep, and bathe. It was also regularly the site of many a romantic, hepatitis laden rendezvous between various hobos who were neither concerned with the gender nor the consent of their partner, whether they be another equally filthy hobo desperate for any human contact or a park jogger too exhausted from their run to fight off their knapsack wielding attacker, and too winded to blow into their rape whistle that, considering the outdoor setting, most passersby would assume was just a bird anyway.
But today the lavatory did not echo with the grizzly, passionate grunts of vagrants transferring both herpes from mouth to genitals and gordita scraps from beard to pubes. Instead it was the cries of a young woman, in the throes of passion with a tall, dashing fraternity man who was drunker than any of those homeless men could have ever hoped to be.
“Yes! Darren! Yes! Have me! I am yours!” screeched Sophie, the petite brunette sorority girl whom Darren held in his arms as he thrust into her with the care of an apathetic mover loading boxes full of glass and china into a moving truck.
Darren slowed his pace as he neared climax, having no concern for whether or not Sophie had reached orgasm at all. She had, of course, orgasmed multiple times. For she was so aroused by Darren’s unrelenting masculinity that not even the two monstrous toilet spiders she had had to fight off, or the sight of a single abandoned shoe that rested underneath the stall divider and inexplicably held a log of feces which was protruding halfway out of it, could distract her from his ravishing though vacant lovemaking.
Once Darren was finished he released a flustered Sophie from his grasp and moved to exit the stall.
“That was…incredible,” gasped Sophie. “You sir, are a skilled romancer. I could let you indulge in me for an entire day and not grow tired of it.”
“Yeah, no, we should probably get back to the philanthropy though,” Darren suggested.
“Yes, of course. Our personal desires shouldn’t get in the way of a worthy cause,” Sophie quickly agreed, though her words trailed off with a tinge of disappointment.
For as Sophie admired Darren from behind, as he was now out the lavatory door, a solid fifteen paces in front of her and gaining speed, she could only imagine being with Darren again, lain across the mattress in his fraternity house room, one which was likely only slightly cleaner than the urine and hobo sperm soaked chamber within which they had just overly consummated their no doubt soon to be awkward acquaintanceship.
Across the field Sophie noticed a strange group angrily conversing with several members of the fraternity, Darren was now among them. As she neared the heated confrontation the strange group became familiar to her, and she became nervous.
“Relent sirs! This is OUR field!” shouted the leader of the group, which was clad in armor fashioned from cardboard and carrying foam weaponry.
“The Dungeons and Dragons meeting got moved out into the street over there, so, uh, go play in traffic,” Darren replied, to hearty laughter from his fraternity cohorts.
The group’s leader scoffed at Darren’s mislabeling of their club.
“We do not limit our adventures to pen and paper!” the leader laughed. “We LARP. Live Action Role Playing is for the truly brave. We battle each other in medieval combat on this field. Our realm is THIS world. THIS place!”
“Your realm is a lonely, vagina-less dorm room,” Darren stated flatly.
Sophie laughed at Darren’s insult, but quickly tried to stifle her outburst. It was too late. The group’s leader turned and spotted Sophie. His eyes widened at the sight of her.
“Sophie! Sophie my love! What are you doing amongst these savages? Has your sisterhood forced you to be here?” the leader asked.
“I am here of my own accord, Xavier,” Sophie said quietly.
“How many times have I told you! It is pronounced ZAH-VEE-AY!” the leader, Xavier, roared at Sophie, stepping towards her.
“Whoa there motherfucker,” Darren said, stepping in between Xavier and Sophie.
“Stand back!” Xavier shouted at Darren. “Sophie is mine! She is bound to me!”
“I am not yours!” Sophie declared. “Not anymore!”
“Hate to break it to you, chief, but we just banged one out like a couple of drunk chimps in that bathroom over there,” Darren said.
Xavier became enraged. He drew his foam sword and moved against Darren, who did not flinch at the water noodle converted to weapon now being pointed in his face. Darren stared down the length of the foam sword and into Xavier’s eyes. Xavier glared back, an inferno of rage exploding out of his gaze. The thought of Darren defiling Sophie infuriated him. The knowledge that the couple’s sordid act happened within the walls of an outdoor public restroom, let alone the very same public restroom in which Xavier had been sexually assaulted by homeless men three times while taking bathroom breaks during previous LARP sessions, only added insult to injury. Though Xavier’s weaponry had failed to fend off the hobos prowling in the bathroom who, at the sight of his flush face and bathed body, became every bit as hard as Xavier’s foam sword was soft, he believed that his weapon would not fail him for such a righteous crusade as this. Besides, thought Xavier, I was totally asking to be assaulted by those hobos just by being in the bathroom and looking so handsome in my armor. It’s my fault. I’m SO stupid.
Affirmed in his sense of righteousness, Xavier drew back his sword and prepared to strike. However, while Xavier had been having a momentary bout of posttraumatic stress disorder, Darren had already begun to swing. Darren’s fist met Xavier’s face with great force, and Xavier’s cardboard helmet did literally absolutely nothing to soften the blow. Xavier let out a soft cry as he crumpled to the ground. The rest of the LARPers recoiled in horror, and their tears began to soak their cardboard armor, making it damp, and somehow more useless than it already was. The band of LARPers began to withdraw. Xavier too scurried away. Once out of Darren’s reach he pulled himself up and pointed towards Darren.
“This is not decided! Not yet! We will be meeting again! You have not met the most fearsome of us either!” Xavier declared.
As Sophie watched Darren stand and laugh at her vanquished ex-lover, who now sprinted away from the field, she became more aroused than she ever had been before. She had never seen a man so complete in his dominance of all aspects of life. Sophie could feel a tingling in her thighs and her toes curled into the grass.
Sophie wanted nothing more than to mount Darren, right then and there, and make loud, vicious love to him as the crowd of her sisters and his brothers watched and applauded, like Olympic spectators observing a truly great athletic achievement. She yearned to be pleased so completely by the towering fraternity man that her screams of passion would cause the surrounding trees to bow, acknowledging that no wood in the land was mightier than Darren’s. Sophie longed to shriek her unfathomable pleasure until her cries ripped a hole in space and time so that all of humanity in the past, present, and future, from her unborn descendants, to George Washington, to the cavemen painting ancient beasts on the cavern walls, could know what true carnal passion was, and know that no woman had ever known, nor would ever know, such vigorous and satisfying love making that was so totally euphoric that heaven itself could have been sprung into existence solely from the force of Sophie’s exploding orgasms. Sophie wanted to get fucked, really, really hard.
On the way back to the frat castle Sophie explained her history with Xavier to Darren, who had actually not asked about it and insisted that he did not care, at all. Nonetheless Sophie felt compelled to explain, though again, Darren did not find the explanation the least bit compelling. Sophie told Darren that she and Xavier had met in a medieval history class, and that after having been spurned by a series a Greek lovers Sophie had decided to pursue gentlemen outside of the fraternities, seeking a more sensitive lover. However Sophie terribly regretted the decision, for Xavier was jealous and weak, and consumed with becoming the LARP king of the university, a goal he later achieved. She remembered his love making, which she described as timid and at times emotional. She recalled one particular instance in which she had mounted Xavier, who closed his eyes ever so tight, immediately began to weep, and shout, “I don’t care if you’re a veteran! Leave me alone mister! I’m just trying to pee!” Eventually Sophie could take no more, and abandoned Xavier, but he could not accept the loss of Sophie, so he pursued her still, to this day even. Darren, again, did not care.
When Darren and Sophie returned to the frat castle a party was thrown, and the two drank well into the night. Sophie fought the nearly uncontrollable urge to pull Darren into the nearest room and make what only one of them would consider unforgettable love. She was still indescribably aroused, and the only things more tragically wet and empty than her loins were the streets of the New Jersey towns ravaged by Hurricane Sandy.
Eventually Sophie’s wish was granted, after Darren leaned into her and whispered, “You wanna take shots in my room?”
Sophie and Darren retreated back to Darren’s room, and before Darren could pour even one shot of Taaka vodka, Sophie was on top of him. Sophie pushed Darren onto his bed, straddled him, and requested that he lay still, and let her please him like he had never been pleased before.
“Thanks, I kinda got the spins anyway,” Darren replied.
Sophie rode Darren into the night, like Paul Revere on his steed, though unlike Revere she was not riding and shouting to inform those nearby about regulars coming, but rather that she was coming, and that it was anything but regular.
After an intense hour of thorough, acrobatic, and quite simply terrifying love making, which as Darren described was like “being milked by a banshee,” he exited his bedroom to thunderous applause, for the entire party had heard Sophie’s cries. Sophie as well was greeted with enthusiasm, and enjoyed what was not a walk of shame, but in her mind a walk of glory, but really it was actually a walk of shame. The celebration, though, was cut short.
“WHERE IS MY WOMAN!” a voice cried from the lawn. “WHERE IS SOPHIE!”
Sophie immediately recognized the voice. It was Xavier. Darren, Sophie, and many of the brothers walked to the front windows to observe the angry GDI on the lawn. Xavier, however, was far from alone. Five dozen GDIs stood on the fraternity’s front lawn, all dressed in their cardboard armor, all wielding a variety of medieval foam weapons.
“We will lay siege to your ‘frat castle’ until you return to me what is mine!” shouted Xavier.
“Fuck these fucking geeds,” Darren exclaimed. “Every other time I get pussy some GDI motherfucker tries to cockblock me! I’m in my GODDAMN FRATERNITY HOUSE! This is my dick’s sanctuary!”
Darren opened the window and shouted, “SANCTUARY! THIS IS MY DICK’S SANCTUARY! I can’t be cockblocked here!”
The LARPers did not budge.
“Fine, fuck it,” Darren decided, “Let’s fuck these assholes up.”
Darren turned to his brothers and began to shout orders. He commanded the pledges to stand near the front door and to be prepared to sacrifice their bodies as human shields at a moment’s notice. Darren then told the several brothers he knew to own paintball guns to man the third floor windows and fire upon the sieging LARPers. The rest of the brothers he ordered into the foyer, they were to storm the front lawn and, as Darren put it, “beat the ever loving shit out of these GDI queers.”
Darren and the brothers moved into the foyer as the actives on the third floor opened fire with their paintball guns. The LARPers, however, having no lives but virginities en masse, were well trained in faux ancient warfare and moved into a testudo formation with their shields, rendering the paintball barrage useless. Thinking quickly, Darren ordered the pledges to get all the fireworks that the fraternity had stolen from the French club over the summer in order to prevent Bastille Day from being celebrated on campus, as it was a travesty to the school and America to celebrate a French holiday. Once the pledges returned with the stolen fireworks Darren gave the order to unleash hell. The plan worked, and the LARPers cardboard armor went up in flames. The LARPers scattered, desperately trying to rip off their burning armor. Darren ordered the brothers out onto the lawn to engage the flaming LARPers, a description of his foes which he immediately realized was accurate, yet redundant.
Once out on the lawn Darren moved towards Xavier, who was laughing maniacally.
“You think you’ve won?” Xavier asked.
“Yes, look around you, we are literally beating the shit out of you,” Darren replied, pointing to the LARPer who had crapped his pants.
“Oh not all of us,” Xavier cackled. “There is still one more.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Darren asked.
“The dragon. BRING THE DRAGON!” Xavier roared.
Suddenly, from behind parked cars in the street, an obese man in a dragon costume arose and screeched into the night air.
“Behold our friend Steve! DRAGON STEVE!” Xavier shouted for all to hear.
The front lawn erupted in laughter. Dragon Steve screeched again, but his dragon calls had no effect on normal men who weren’t dressed as knights and total pussies. Dragon Steve did not care for the mockery of the fraternity men though, and moved towards them, ready to attack. However, Dragon Steve had trouble navigating between the cars parked so closely to each other on the street, for his dragon costume was bulky, and stupid. Before he could get out of the street a fire engine came speeding around the corner and clipped Dragon Steve, whose dragon screeches immediately turned to painful crying. Firefighters exited the engine and began to spray all the LARPers with fire extinguishers. The LARPers choked on the fumes and several vomited on themselves. They had been defeated completely. The crew chief explained to Darren that the neighboring sorority’s house mother had called the fire department after observing several dozen people combust on the house’s lawn.
After a brief conversation with the firefighters, and a call to the city prosecutor, who was an alumnus of the fraternity, all of the LARPers were arrested for trespassing, disorderly conduct, and assault. Unable to pay their bonds, the LARPers were imprisoned in what they referred to as a dungeon, but all the accused felons they were imprisoned with simply called “county lockup.” During their imprisonment several LARPers were stabbed, and unfortunately for them none of the weapons with which they were stabbed were fashioned from foam, mostly sharpened toothbrushes instead.
Darren, meanwhile, returned to the fraternity house and made love to Sophie once more before making her leave forever, because she was loud and weird and she had sprained Darren’s penis, which hurt very much.