I looked around at the other faces.

I looked back at Blair and smiled.

No fucking way was I going to be the first. No way was I going to puke before Tommy or Ted. Uh-uh, no way. Not going to happen.

From somewhere, I summoned the will to keep the beer down.

I turned to face the brothers and bowed my head slightly. "Not me!" I shouted as I got my stomach under control. "IT WON'T BE ME!" My stomach seemed to settle, and I raised my hands over my head like a boxer who's just knocked out his opponent. "More beer! Bring me more beer!"

Man, was I drunk.

The brothers let out a cheer.

And just as I shouted the words, Ted Norris made a gagging noise and a stream of foamy beer launched out of his mouth on to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees, and even after everything had stopped coming up, he had the dry heaves. Dave Pittenger just shook his head and went for a mop. He slapped the mop handle down in front of Ted. "When you're done, you can mop up that mess." Dave stood up rolling his eyes, and walked over to the keg.

Blair smiled at me proudly, and the relay started up again like it had never stopped.

I only had one more turn at the trough before the brothers won. Instead of drinking, I just stuck my face down there and pretended to swallow while breathing through my nose-but the smell of the beer didn't help my stomach any. It was all over me, and my fingers were even beginning to wrinkle. My hair reeked of beer and was completely soaked. Once the brothers were pronounced the winners, drinking games started up at the tables set up throughout the Great Room-Mexicali, Quarters, Cardinal Puff, every conceivable drinking game was going on, including some I'd never heard of. Blair grabbed me. "Come on, let's get you out of here for a minute," he said, and steered me to his room, shutting and locking the door behind us.

"Little bro," he said, throwing his arms around me. I put mine around him and picked him up, hugging him hard in my drunken stupor. "You're hurting me!" he laughed, pushing me away. "Let me down, you big drunk prairie boy!"

I put him down and sat down on the bed. "I'm so wasted." I looked up at him in wonder. The posters on his wall were all blurry. "Oooohhhh-I don't think I've ever been this drunk. Ever." The room began to spin a bit, and I closed my eyes. Deep breaths, take lots of deep breaths.

"Well, if you need to puke, make sure the coast is clear and do it out the window into the bushes." Blair replied, getting the dragon out and loading the bowl. "You know they keep track of every pledge who pukes and write it on the chalkboard. The goal is for every pledge to puke-but I wanted you to take a break from the drinking for a while, spend some quality time with your big brother, and get a little stoned. Besides, all the games are rigged, if you didn't notice. You boys are outnumbered, and the brothers are going to gang up on you all until you puke." He grinned at me. "Besides, you need to be ready for pledge wrestling later."

"Pledge wrestling? What's that?"

He handed me the dragon. "Around midnight, the pledges who haven't puked yet are gathered in the Great Room, drenched in beer and have to wrestle each other." He shook his head. "Wrestling will make you puke, trust me. Any pledge who makes it through the night without puking earns the respect of the brotherhood though-especially since the whole purpose of the night is to make the pledges puke." He inclined his head toward the window. "So, you might want to go ahead and do it now-in secret-so later when it comes to the wrestling, not only will you not puke, you'll win." He grinned at me. "Sure, it's cheating, but who cares? I want everyone to be jealous of my little brother."

The room started spinning again when I sat up. Nausea swept over me, and I felt hot. "Maybe ... I ... should ..."

Blair walked over to the window and looked out. He slid the window open. "Go for it."

I stuck my head out the window, opened my mouth, and a stream of foamy beer spewed out. I wiped my mouth with my hand, and immediately felt a lot better. I turned around and said, "Thanks, Blair." I sat down again on the bed.

"What are big brothers for?" He sat down at his desk and took a hit off the bong.

We got stoned and cuddled for a little while, and then he said we needed to get back to the Great Room. As we passed the chalkboard, I noticed that every pledge's name was up there except mine and Eric's. "Hmmm," Blair said, looking at the board. "Looks like you and Eric might be wrestling. Unless, of course we can make Eric puke before midnight."

I winked at him. "Sounds like a plan."

We walked back into the Great Room, and joined a game of Quarters that Eric and his big brother, Marc Kearney, were also playing. It didn't take long to figure out what was going on. Every time a brother got a quarter in the cup, either Eric or I had to drink. Eric was looking pretty drunk. I was buzzing pretty hard myself, but since I'd puked up most of the beer I'd already drunk, it was mostly from the pot, so being forced to drink during the game wasn't bothering me. I kept looking at Eric. Every time I made a quar ter in the cup, I made Eric drink. The brothers, though, soon figured out what I was up to, so they started ganging up on me. Eric was hopeless. Whenever it was his turn to bounce the quarter, it didn't even come remotely close to going into the cup.

His eyelids were drooping, and even though he was sitting down, he was weaving from side to side. His usually curly hair was drenched in beer and plastered to the side of his head. The hair on his chest was also wet and stuck to his skin. He had a nice tan, and an even nicer body. His shoulders were broad, his chest and arms thickly muscled. His waist was narrow and his stomach flat. His white underwear was also soaked through, and I could see the dark pubic hair and his thick cock and balls clearly. He was hot, and he looked strong. If we had to wrestle sometime with him sober, he'd probably wipe the floor with me. Drunk as he was, though, I could probably take him if it came down to that.

And it did. Somehow, he made it through another half hour of the game without either passing out or throwing up.

He'd just taken another drink when Marc suddenly stood up and blew the whistle. All sound ceased, and everyone turned to look at him. He climbed up on his chair. He was pretty drunk himself, and I looked at Blair, who winked. "Brothers!" Marc shouted. He was weaving on the chair, and looked like he might fall off any minute. "We have two pledges left who have not yet tossed their cookies. You know what that means?"

"PLEDGE WRESTLING!" someone shouted in response, and everyone cheered.

Blair leaned over to me, "Okay, little bro, are you ready for this?"

"I think so." I put my hands down on the table and pushed myself up. I wobbled a little bit once I was on my feet, but at least I was able to get up by myself. Two brothers had to help Eric up, and even then they had to stay with him.

That was a very good sign.

Some brothers moved the sofas off the carpeted area in the Great Room, leaving a big clearing. Some brothers jumped up on the hearth, and all the others crowded around. A couple of other brothers spread a tarp over the rug, and then beer was dumped all over me-as if I wasn't already soaked in it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric being similarly drenched. "Just remember," Blair whispered, "whenever you can, try to squeeze his stomach. If you can, land on it. He'll puke, you'll be the winner, and that's the end of it." "Okay," I replied, leaning on him heavily.