“So it’s decided, then?” said the president of the Delta Sigma Nu fraternity, peering out the window of their frathouse office at the twerp standing on their manicured lawn, pissing on their grass. The rest of the officers were sitting in a semicircle around his desk, faces impassive, but clearly irritated.
“Well, he’s been evaluated,” said the secretary, waving around a sheaf of papers that had arrived from their biggest sponsor, Hierarch Industries, just this morning. “We know what he is. It’s just a matter of whether we want to teach him his place.”
“If you ask me,” said the treasurer, “for the sake of the Cause, we shouldn’t just pluck any random omega from the streets and educate them.” He rose from his seat and walked to the window. He stopped just behind the president and clenched his jaw. “But that little fucker is really getting on my nerves.”
The president turned around and winked at his partner, copping a feel of his treasurer’s Alpha ass. “You look cute when you’re angry, babe,” he said. The treasurer rolled his eyes. “But you know where my vote lies. So… How do we want to do this?”
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