Chapter 35: Heather’s Window of Opportunity

While Tracy was absent dealing with the affairs of the newest resident of the Four-Beta house, Lisa found out the hard way what it was like not to be under her protection. Sergeant-at-Arms Heather perceived a small window of opportunity to force Lisa to quit the sorority, and had every intention of pursuing it. Lisa was going to get out of class early that day, which would give the Sergeant-at-Arms some time to try to break her.

That morning, as Heather and the pledges neared the Economics Building, the Sergeant-at-Arms had something ominous to say:

“Pledge, I have some real problems with your performance. We can deal with it this afternoon, when I pick you up. I’ll have you to myself for a while, so that’ll give you something to look forward to.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At 3:00 p.m. the Four-Beta Sergeant-at-Arms returned to retrieve Lisa. As she went to her knees, Lisa remembered Heather’s promise of “dealing with” the problems she had the day before due to her fatigue. A quick glimpse of Heather’s face indicated that no, she had nor forgotten what she had said earlier in the day.

The first detail that worried Lisa was what Heather was wearing. Heather normally dressed in cargo pants and Four-Beta blouses whenever on campus, but that afternoon she was wearing a light T-shirt, old jogging shorts, and a pair of beach sandals. She carried neither a purse nor a backpack. Instead, she was carrying an umbrella. Lisa realized that she had dressed with the expectation of getting wet. Lisa’s concern mounted when Heather told her to leave her backpack and books in Burnside’s office.

Lisa reluctantly followed Heather out of the Economics Building and onto a sidewalk leading to the old part of campus. Without saying a word, the Sergeant-at-Arms abruptly walked into a grassy area that was used for impromptu rugby games, and thus very muddy.

Heather suddenly screamed at Lisa to get into the front-leaning-rest position. Lisa quickly complied, realizing with horror that the sorority officer’s shouting had just drawn the attention of several dozen students who happened to be walking around the area. As a growing audience of young people stood watching, Heather’s voice snarled:

“ONE ... TWO ... THREE...”

“One!”

“ONE ... TWO ... THREE...”

“Two!”

“ONE ... TWO ... THREE...”

“Three!”

“ONE ... TWO ... THREE...”

When Lisa became too tired to continue doing pushups, Heather ordered her on her back to do sit-ups, apparently not in the least concerned that it was quite obvious that Lisa’s thong had pushed to one side, leaving her crotch partially exposed every time she sat up. Lisa struggled to do the exercises and tried to ignore the guys staring at her with incredulous, aroused expressions. There were yet more push-ups and then more sit-ups, and finally a horrible exercise called “the dying cockroach” which required Lisa to lie on her back, put her feet in the air, and move her legs as though she were pedaling an invisible bicycle.

When Lisa’s body gave out the unhappy session ended, but now her uniform was filthy and covered with grass stains. Her skin was saturated with sweat and her body stunk because she had not been allowed to use deodorant. In front of the spectators, Heather got in her face and snarled:

“You’re a disgrace, Pledge! An absolute fucking disgrace! What’s this shit with your uniform? You call yourself a Four-Beta looking like that? Come-on, Pledge, let’s get some answers! What gives you the fucking right to disgrace your uniform with this filth?”

Heather punctuated her last sentence with several vicious pokes to Lisa’s chest.

“I was exercising, ma’am! That’s why I got dirty, ma’am!”

“So we have a little piggie who likes to roll in the dirt, don’t we? OK, little piggie who likes to roll in the dirt, how about some low-crawling?”

Lisa looked at Heather in horror. Low-crawling?

“Come-on little piggie, LOW-CRAWL! NOW!”

Lisa, still dismayed at how quickly Heather’s fury had escalated, did as she was told. In the hot afternoon sun she lay down on the wet ground and began dragging herself towards the sidewalk. Before she had gone very far her entire front was covered with mud and grass stains that would be almost impossible to get out. Her hair clips came undone and grass blades worked their way into her hair. More grass worked its way into her shirt and under her thong. Her white tennis shoes were covered with mud, along with her hands and knees.

“Not low enough, Pledge! Not low enough! You’d better show me some real low crawling, just like that butch Tracy would do in the Army! Imagine you got people shooting at you from the tree line! Come-on soldier, let’s see some REAL low-crawling!”

“REAL low-crawling” actually meant dragging herself on the ground. The minutes dragged by as Lisa worked her way towards the sidewalk. The entire perspective of her world changed, given that she was at eye level with the grass and her spectators seemed to tower in the distance.

Suddenly she heard a hiss and noticed everyone quickly moving away towards the sidewalk. Heather calmly opened her umbrella. The automatic sprinklers were coming on. In a voice mocking Tracy’s manner of talking she shouted:

“Keep moving, Pledge! You know the deal! It’s just mind over matter! If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!”

Within seconds Lisa’s clothing was soaked and clung tightly to her skin. Her shirt was getting pulled out of shape and she had difficulty keeping her thong up. Her movement became even more difficult because she had to grab her thong with one hand to keep it from coming off completely. Heather, in spite her umbrella, was soaked as well, but at least she was not covered in mud.

“On your back, Pledge!” As Lisa rolled on her back, Heather suddenly folded her umbrella and threw it to her. Again mocking Tracy’s voice she shouted: “Here’s your weapon, soldier! Both hands on the weapon!”

Lisa’s shoulders ground into the mud, now that she no longer could use her arms to support herself. The water from the sprinklers hit her in the face and went up her nose, making her cough. Worst of all, she felt her thong working its way down her hips. She let go of the umbrella to pull it up, only to have Heather get in her face and scream:

“DO NOT LET GO OF YOUR WEAPON, SOLDIER! DO NOT LET GO OF YOUR WEAPON!”

Lisa gritted her teeth and thought to herself: OK, fine, you nasty bitch! If my thong comes off and we get arrested, it’s your fault!

As she moved through the mud and the water continued hitting her in the face, the soggy ground grabbed Lisa’s thong and pulled it down her thighs. There were a few whistles from the spectators, but Lisa ignored them. She kicked off the garment and continued moving. Heather yelled at Lisa to roll on her stomach and keep moving. Lisa was now bottomless, but she was so completely covered in mud that it was hard to tell what she was or was not wearing. Heather grabbed the thong off the ground and followed her as the sprinklers continued to saturate both of them.

Finally Lisa made it to the sidewalk and Heather ordered her to “recover”. She handed over the thong and with difficulty Lisa managed to pull it up over her muddy legs. She knelt, assuming the “position of submission and respect”, although at that moment she hated Heather more than she had ever hated anyone in her life. Heather calmly stripped off her shirt (she was wearing a sports-bra underneath), wrung it out over Lisa’s head, and put it back on. She kicked the mud out of her sandals and ordered Lisa to stand up and continue following her back to the sorority.

Lisa’s body shook from muscle fatigue and the horrible stress and embarrassment she had endured over the last hour. However, there was more humiliation coming, because Heather casually led her pledge along the crowded sidewalks past several blocks of businesses. Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes as hundreds of people stared at her. Heather’s wet clothing drew some attention as well, but not nearly as much as her mud-covered companion. The worst part of the walk was having to hold up her thong with one hand, because the elastic waistband was stretched and ruined.