Dippie (Patreon)

My heart was pounding like a hammer when I slammed the door. I made it home, in and out of alpha alpha alpha frat house without anyone seeing me. I look at the small bottle I’ve clutched in my hand the whole sprint. “Masculinity Warning: Toxic” it read. What fucking douchebags. When I overheard some of the frats talking about their magic bottles I knew I’d found a way to get rid of them. It took some convincing, but I managed to get my cousin to release one of the field kits they use when they find suspected doping drugs. I can’t believe those dickheads have access to anything more advanced than the kit can detect, so it shouldn’t take long to prove it’s illegal. Then I call the police about a bottle I “found”, probable cause, house search, mass expulsion, and hopefully criminal charges. Then women all over campus can breathe sigh of relief. No more half naked bros tanning outside building C, grading passing women 1 through 10.

Dammit! Of course they would screw the cap on as hard as they could. Of course I would spill some on me, trying to open it. What the fuck! This smells like that obnoxious Abercrombie & Fitch cologne they drench their stores in. Fierce, is it? Did they just punk people by putting after shave in the sports medicine box? And it burns. How strong is the alcohol this fucking thing is mixed with?

I hurry into the bathroom to shower my hands. I sway like a drunk. The shit must permeate my skin somehow. I see, as I reach for the tap, that my hands are swollen. That went fast. Perhaps some allergic reaction. I soak my hands, but no improvement. In fact, the feeling is spreading up my arms. No, those are not swollen hands. Those are man hands.

I quickly unbutton my blouse and tear it off. It’s not quite as fast so you can see them change, but now compared to a few minutes ago my arms have definitively gained some muscle. I’m starting to freak out. Who can I call? Ambulance? CDC? My whole chest now burns and it is creeping both up my neck and down the torso. I can feel my heart racing.

- Tyler.
- Hi… I think I have something of yours..
My voice sounds funny. Hoarse, sort of.
- You the bitch that broke in? We got webcams.
- I… I got some on me.
- Yo, don’t touch anything else. Sit tight and we’ll be right there.

Everything was burning now. I had a fever, a headache, and started to get an itch all over. I barely managed to give Tyler the address before I passed out.

Yo, Tripp’s the name. Tripp Dipshit, but everyone calls me Dippie. Got the name Dipshit when I stole and huffed some chemicals that apparently messed me up a bit. Can’t remember past a few months ago. My mate Tyler, to the right, has been the best bro. I can stay here at triple alpha as long as I need, to sort myself out, he said. As long as I do my chores. He is even helping me get my memory back. Every Thursday the house takes a vote on something I should do to see if it jigs my memory. Lot’s of different kinds of sports so far. That’s also how I got the tat and piercing. This week it’s wrestling.