Part 1

He was beautiful.

That was the first thing anyone who had better than 1000/20 vision noticed about Britton Waverley. He had always been beautiful, from the crib when his eyes took up about half of his cherubic face, but now that he was in college, Britton Waverley was approaching otherworldly status. He was so handsome that he never had to ask twice for anything. His irises were like sapphires inlaid beneath his eyelids, and when he smiled and they sparkled, Britton got his way.

A face as gorgeous as Britton’s only had full effect if the body attached was suitable, and Britton’s certainly was. Long hours in the gym had carved the muscles on his 6’3" frame into chiseled perfection. His pecs pushed out in a square shelf, his shoulders were broad and rippling, and his arms were constantly testing the limits of his shirt sleeves. Britton loved clothes, and he was still deciding whether he would allow himself to bloom into a full-fledged bodybuilder. 22-inch arms wouldn’t fit in his crisp shirts and expensive blazers. And yet, he kind of wanted 22-inch arms. His present 18-inchers were nice and got him plenty of action, but oh, to be bigger…

Britton was a genuine prep, and came by it honestly. He’d been educated in exclusive, high-priced schools and had spent his summers at his family’s beach house on the East Coast. He knew how to ride horses, play lacrosse and tie a bow tie. His father, Ambassador Waverley, wasn’t crazy about the muscles, saying they made Britton look intimidating and unapproachable, but also too much like a common laborer. Then again, the ambassador always was a bit old-world in his thinking.

When it came time for him to enter college, Britton Waverley had quickly been snapped up by the oldest and most prestigious fraternity on campus: Alpha Alpha Alpha. Officially the Tri-Alphas, but of course everyone just called them ‘The Alphas.’ It was a nickname that fit. There wasn’t a guy in the brotherhood who stood under six feet tall, and there wasn’t a shirt in the house smaller than a snug size large. The body standards were whispered about on campus, but never officially confirmed, because no Alpha man would talk about it. They could occasionally be seen going on shirtless runs – pecs bouncing, abs glistening with sweat – to the campus recreation center, where starry-eyed lifters would follow them around and try to copy their routines.

Even among this pack of top dogs, Britton stood out as a natural leader, but perhaps because he had always found himself to be the automatic object of immediate adoration, he also felt no need to feed his ego and grab the spotlight. This generosity of spirit, combined with an intuitive instinct of charity toward those less fortunate than himself, made him seem just as perfect on the inside as he clearly was on the outside.

Upon his initiation to the Alphas, Britton had learned of the fraternity’s mystery-shrouded legacy, one which was never to be revealed to outsiders. Unlike the other frats on campus which existed primarily as social bonding groups committed to discovering the best way to consume fermented hops, the Alphas took their Greek roots seriously. As it was told to Britton and the other pledges waiting to be inducted, the Alphas could literally be traced back to the ancient Gods of Greece and were the keepers of the Gods’ most incredible secrets. Chief among them was possession of (pause for dramatic effect) the nectar of the Gods! Britton found this all a bit silly, but figured a bit of overwrought showmanship could be expected with any initiation ceremony and was ultimately harmless.

In the basement of the frat house, Britton and his fellow newbies were asked to strip naked and kneel in a circle. Britton felt the urge to chuckle at the absurdly solemn rite, but he knew how seriously the frat took its sacred ceremonies and contained his amusement. He glanced around the circle at the other recruits to see if anyone else was daring to crack a smile, but no one dared. It struck Britton just how handsome and well-built all of these young men were. Clearly the Alphas had exceptionally high standards and only recruited those who measured up. From the looks of it, those criteria included a certain required penis length. Inwardly, Britton took a bit of satisfaction in the realization that, even in that category, he was top of his class.

Two high-ranking officers of the fraternity stepped to the center of the circle wearing red robes with hoods over their heads and sandals on their feet. One carried a crystal bowl filled with a golden goo the consistency and color of honey. The other dipped a glass ladle into the viscous liquid and brought it to the lips of the new pledges one at a time. In turn, everyone who was given a taste closed their eyes in ecstasy and began to rub their bodies slowly and sensually. Britton was impressed by how willing everyone was to play along with the heightened nature of the ritual. He vowed not to get so carried away, but when his own name was spoken in grandiose tones and the ladle was lifted to his lips, the scent alone was enough to knock him for a loop. The nectar may have looked like honey but it had an intoxicating floral scent that matched no flower he had ever come across. The thick ooze passed through his lips and onto his tongue, where the tingling of his taste buds seemed to trigger a simultaneous flash of fireworks across the back of his eyelids. He discovered immediately that his compatriots had not been faking their joy for the sake of any charade. A comfortable burn shot rapidly through his nervous system, invigorating his entire body, sending waves of energy pulsing through every muscle. Britton groped himself unashamedly before collapsing backwards on the floor.

Britton had no idea how long he was out before he became aware of the excited buzz of chatter throughout the room. His eyes opened slowly and he looked around to discover that he was one of the final few pledges who were still lying on the floor. Most of the rest were standing around, still naked, casually drinking beers and having jovial conversations with the upperclassmen. Britton also noticed that the new initiates were unable to go more than a few seconds without checking out their bodies, which had each gained a solid twenty pounds of muscle. Britton pushed himself onto his knees to do a quick self-inspection and discovered that his body too had been morphed by the nectar into something even more spectacular than good genes and hard work had produced. He rose to his feet and joined his fellow Greek gods for a brewski in the buff.

The Alphas were even more insular than your typical frat, rarely associating with any other Greeks on campus, let alone the common rabble. The nectar and its effects had given them a special bond which most of the Alphas felt elevated them above the other students. Britton was one of the few who retained a strong connection to the rest of the campus, becoming involved in student government, dining frequently at the student union rather than the frat, working as a math tutor, and volunteering three hours a week at the campus free clinic. He met so many students who were intelligent and good spirited but hadn’t gotten the lucky breaks and genetic head-start that he and the other Alphas had, not to mention the mystical boost that had elevated Britton and his fellow frat brothers into almost superhero status.

When Britton was unanimously chosen to lead the search committee for prospective new recruits, he was determined to open the process to guys who didn’t look like they had stepped off an Abercrombie and Fitch bag. This proposal was met with deep skepticism when he suggested it to the Alpha president, Kip Koenig, whose strong preference was to keep the Alphas as they had always been. But Britton argued that, once a suitable new recruit had been located and given a sufficient dose of the nectar, he ought to fit right in. Despite Kip’s serious misgivings, he came onboard with Britton’s experiment with one condition. He could only bring in one prospect who didn’t match the frat’s traditional physical qualifications. If that worked, he might agree to less stringent criteria in the future.

With that, Britton was dispatched to find the student most deserving of an Alpha upgrade. He already had someone in mind.

It was a tightrope walk. Britton didn’t want someone who was going to become a raging, vindictive asshole as soon as they were given the opportunity to walk the world in a more attractive shell. He thought he had found his guinea pig in Jared, a rotund guy in one of his pre-med courses. Jared got high marks in class, was always on time, asked thoughtful questions and seemed astute and eloquent. But when Britton accepted Jared’s Facebook request and looked through Jared’s page, he found lots of rambling posts filled with crass, sexist jokes and complaints about life. That would not do – an Alpha man carried himself with dignity and fixed his own problems instead of complaining about them.

So Jared was out. A little nectar wasn’t going to change a sense of entitlement or a victim complex. At least, Britton was pretty sure it wouldn’t. He and his fellow pledges had slightly different personalities now than before they had joined, but the changes were so minute that it was impossible to tell if they were because of the nectar, or simply due to maturity.

Once Jared was eliminated from contention, Britton honed his requirements a little. He didn’t want someone with a woe-is-me attitude. His search became like a fun game for him, although once, when he caught himself tailing a particularly unfortunate-looking guy hoping to somehow suss out his name, he thought he might be crossing the line from recruiting to stalking. After that, Britton resolved to give himself a day or two in hopes that the perfect prospect might just fall into his lap.

It happened within hours. Britton was killing time at the Academic Achievement Center, absently flexing his chest to watch the button over it strain, then relax, strain, relax. His last two shifts had yielded no math students. Today, he hoped, would be different.

“Britton?”

“Yeah?” Caught in mid-flex with his chest puffed out, Britton swiveled his chair around to face his coordinator.

“I have Alex here for you.”

“Cool, thanks.” Britton stood up, smoothed out his uniform Oxford shirt, and watched as a short, frail-looking boy came around the corner. “Alex?”

“Alex Carmichael, yeah,” the smaller guy said, extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you, man, I’m Britton Waverley.”

“Britton?”

“Like the country. Have a seat, have a seat.” Britton extended his palm to the open chair across his desk, and Alex plopped down.

Britton sized him up, which didn’t take long. He was a small man, probably 5’5” or around there, and couldn’t be more than 140 pounds. His face was hairless and free from blemishes, but bore some acne scarring. Alex’s facial structure was the polar opposite to his new tutor’s, which was so pronounced, it looked like he had extra bones which weren’t allotted to normal folks. Britton’s jawline was a perfect diamond-sharp square; Alex’s was a smooth, round sag of flesh that had no angle to hold up the skin. It gave Alex a vague double-chin, even though he had next to no body fat. Alex’s shoulders weren’t even wide enough to fill his shirt, and the sleeves hung down too low because of this absence. Although only one grade apart, Britton looked almost ten years older than Alex. “Let me just pull up your academic file here,” Britton said in his cheerful baritone, as his muscular fingers clattered against the keyboard. His brow furrowed. “I’m not finding you. You said Carmichael, right? Is that with a ‘C’?”

“It’s probably under Cooper,” Alex said as he pulled a large three-ring binder out of his backpack.

“Alexander Cooper?”

“No, uh, Cooper is my first name. Alex is my middle.”

Alex missed Britton’s eyes flashing excitedly. “Your name is Cooper Carmichael? That’s a cool name, bro. Why don’t you go by it?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno, I’ve always just been Alex. Cooper doesn’t really fit me. My mom named me it because she wanted people to think I was rich,” he said with a laugh, and Britton returned a smile. “I’ve just always felt like an Alex. You look more like a Cooper Carmichael than I do.”

Britton had to stop himself from smiling like the Grinch. “Now why do you say that?”

“I dunno,” Alex said with another shrug, a gesture Britton could tell Alex made often. Clearly, Alex actually did know, but just didn’t want to verbalize it. “I’m just a regular dude, and Alex is a regular dude name.”

“Cooooper Alexanderrrr,” Britton said, putting on a haughty accent he’d heard on his father’s associates, “is not a regular dude name. Trust me, I would know. My parents named me after the country I was conceived in.”

Alex chuckled. “Well, maybe I’ll live up to it someday. I dunno.” Shrug. “It’s very Vineyard Vines.” Alex quickly looked at Britton’s shirt to make sure it wasn’t the brand he had just insulted. “No offense or anything.”

“None taken. I’m more of a Ralph Lauren man. It says here your major is undecided?”

“Yeah, I’m not quite sure what I want to do with my life yet. I have time.”

“True,” Britton nodded. “Ever play any sports?”

Alex smiled wryly. He didn’t look down, though, and Britton liked that. “No.” He didn’t make any excuses. Britton liked that, too.

Britton could press that issue later. “Alright, Alex,” he said, leaning forward, pecs resting on top of his desk. “What do you need help with today?”

“Dude, we’re playing football in the quad, you wanna come?”

Britton turned around and looked at Kip in his maroon tank and Alpha running shorts. Kip, Britton always thought. Couldn’t have a frattier name if he tried. “No, man, I’m doing some research on my big pledge.”

“Are yoouuu?” Kip whispered, grinning. “Well, I look forward to hearing your briefing.”

“I look forward to giving it.”

Britton swiveled to face his laptop screen. He was going through Alex’s Facebook profile pictures – the public ones – and Googling him.

There wasn’t a lot about Alex in his hometown paper. Most searches just pulled up the usual honor roll placements, which were high. Britton found an article about the Boys & Girls Club in which Alex was quoted. “It’s really nice to have a place to go,” Alex had said in seventh grade, “because my mom works a lot and isn’t home.” There was never any mention of a dad, not even in the high school graduation announcement. “C. Alex Carmichael, son of Lori Williams, 3.98 GPA.”

Britton leaned back in his chair and rested the back of his head in his palms as he stared up at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna call him Coop,” he smiled.

At Starbucks, Alex ordered his usual latte from the cute brunette behind the counter, then shuffled away to pick up his drink. He felt oddly nervous as he took a seat at a small table and waited for Britton to arrive. It would be an understatement to say that Alex was shocked to get a phone call from his math tutor Britton, asking if they could meet for coffee. Besides his mom, Alex never got phone calls from anyone. He was so self-conscious about the fact that he was going to be seen in public with one of the biggest men on campus (by reputation and by muscle mass) that he even put on a dress shirt and the only tie he owned.

Alex immediately felt laughably overdressed when Britton casually strolled into the shop in a white polo with three Alpha symbols on the left breast, olive drab shorts and leather sandals. Britton deposited himself in the chair opposite Alex and quickly put him at ease with a friendly smile. After a volley of polite “heys”, Britton wasted no time getting to his pitch. He spoke in hushed tones.

“How would you like to become an Alpha?”

Alex laughed reflexively, spewing latte foam across the tabletop. “Sorry about that, but I don’t think I’m quite Alpha material.”

“Well, I’m in charge of recruitment and I think you are.”

“I’ve seen you guys around campus and I am not an Alpha. What is it, you need a token nerd to meet some diversity quota or something?”

Britton leaned forward on the table and spoke softly so he wouldn’t be overheard. “The Alphas stand for excellence. I’ve reviewed your records. You’re a hard worker and, aside from a little shakiness in calculus that your tutor is helping you with, a high achiever. I think you could only benefit from what the Alphas could provide you, and we would all be richer from having you join us.”

The thought of joining a frat had never even entered Alex’s mind, but Britton was so earnest, he agreed that he would at least drop by the frat for a tour someday. Britton said, “Let’s go there now.”

For Alex, setting foot in the Alpha House was a bit like Gulliver arriving in Brobdingnag, the home of giants. Every guy here was at least eight inches taller than him and built like they had been doing bench presses since kindergarten. Alex felt like he belonged to a different species than these exemplars of physical perfection. They certainly didn’t conform to all of his worst preconceptions. Alex had anticipated a ramshackle old building full of booze-soaked fratboys up to zany shenanigans, but throughout the stately building with its dark wood walls and well-maintained fireplaces, the Alphas were either studying, preparing the evening meal or working out in the fully equipped gym.

Alex looked at one Alpha curled up on a couch, reading his textbook and taking notes. He looked earnest, with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. This, Alex assumed, was what the Alphas thought a nerd was. A guy who wore glasses. It didn’t matter that this “nerd” had a bicep about five times thicker than his generously-sized textbook, or that radiant grass-green eyes stared through his lenses. Sure, his glass frames were on his nose, but they also had to rest on cliff-like cheekbones.

On the second floor, Britton rapped on the door of the Alphas’ president, Kip, who opened the door wearing only sweatpants and deck shoes. Kip extended his hand, which enveloped Alex’s slender hand and shook it vigorously. “Nice to meet you. Come on in. Britton can’t shut up about you.” Behind Alex’s back, Kip shot a glance at Britton which eloquently conveyed the sentiment, “This guy? You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Britton merely smiled back with confidence.

Alex took a seat on a wooden chair and Kip sat with perfect posture in a leather chair opposite him, somehow seeming formal and businesslike despite his almost non-existent wardrobe. Alex followed his example, sitting straight up and adjusting his tie.

“Britton has filled me in on your background, your GPA, your extra-curriculars. It’s all very impressive. But there’s more to life than school, and the Alphas are, as much as anything, a social organization. How well do you think you would fit in with the other guys?”

Alex’s shoulders slumped in his roomy Oxford shirt. “Honestly? Like a platypus in a cage full of saber-toothed tigers.”

Kip laughed. He could already tell why Britton liked the kid, but he still didn’t see Alpha potential. His eyes roved across Alex’s unremarkable face and flimsy body. Finally, more out of scientific curiosity than anything else, Kip looked to Britton. “Why don’t you get our friend here a drink?”

Britton was surprised to get the request so quickly. Alex shifted uneasily in his chair and cringed. “Actually, I don’t drink booze. It gives me migraines.”

“Oh, this isn’t booze,” Britton said reassuringly as he poured the elixir from a crystal pitcher. “It’s a special concoction, exclusive to the Alphas. I think you’ll like it.”

Kip added, “You should especially like the hangover.”

Britton handed Alex a goblet full of a thick amber substance. Alex sniffed it to make sure they weren’t trying to haze him by making him drink rubber cement, but discovered that the scent was actually very pleasant. His dick hardened in his pants, and his heart began to race. “What is this stuff?”

“Take a sip and see.”

“I’m not sure if I should…” Alex hadn’t expected to have to make a choice this quickly, and he began to visibly tremble. His leg bobbed nervously and he tried to keep still.

“Alex,” Kip said, “this is a gentleman’s fraternity. We’re not going to serve you anything repulsive. You’re our guest. We want you to join us, remember?”

“That’s true,” Alex conceded. He took an experimental sip and nearly came in his pants. “Oh my god…”

“Go ahead, chug it,” Kip encouraged him, leaning forward with intense curiosity about what the nectar would do when administered to such an undeveloped specimen.

As Alex took another sip, Britton leaned down and whispered into Kip’s ear, “Shouldn’t we get him to undress? He’s going to ruin his clothes.”

Kip muttered back, "If this works like you’re hoping, those clothes won’t fit him any more anyway. How much did you give him?”

“One regular serving as an experiment. We’ll see how far it takes him, then he can decide for himself.”

Alex was already becoming calmer as the nectar slid across his tongue and down his throat. The feeling was intoxicating. The more he drank, the more he wanted to drink. His skin began to feel like a warm cocoon, perspiration gushing from every pore. His muscles were beginning to feel like…well, like muscles, growing and shifting upon his rickety frame. He loosened his necktie to keep it from choking him. A gloomy fog was lifting from Alex’s brain, replaced by a feeling of clarity, as if he was suddenly seeing the world as full of opportunities instead of obstacles. His leg stopped bouncing and he sat calmly, feeling content and satisfied with his beverage, and yet still uneasy with the situation.

From Kip and Britton’s perspective, Alex’s changes were subtle, but numerous. His hair gained a new luster and began to shine in the light beaming through the window. His jaw looked a little more square and a lot firmer, and a bump on the right side of his nose straightened itself out with a soft crunch. Slowly, his shoulders rose up and squared off, filling in his shirt like they were supposed to. Soon, the garment was a little snug on him. New, small biceps pushed against the sleeves and pulled up his cuffs too high. He yanked off his tie completely and began to unbutton the sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his widening chest. He struggled to extricate himself from his constricting shirtsleeves, finally tearing them to shreds as the pressure became unbearable. “Britton?!” Alex squeaked out as he stared down at his expanding body. “What have you done to me?!”

Kip and Britton didn’t answer, but Alex heard Kip whisper, “How much do you think he’s gained?”

Britton whispered back, “I’d estimate forty.”

The goblet clattered on the floor as Alex launched to his feet, inspecting all his changes. It took him a few moments to gather himself and realize that the throbbing in his body had stopped and he was done changing. He hadn’t grown in height, but his muscles and facial features were more masculine now, as if he’d been working out and taking testosterone supplements for the last year. He was not nearly spectacular enough to be a true Alpha, not yet, but the change was already dramatic.

“What did you guys…” Alex’s voice hadn’t dropped in pitch, but had gained a rich timbre that had been absent before. He clutched his thicker neck as he continued speaking. “What did you guys do to me?!”

“That was the nectar of the Gods, Alex,” Kip said, completely serious.

“The nectar of the…” Alex sat back down and put his head in his hands. His fingers rested in his hair, and the light hit it just right to reveal that he had blond roots poking out of his scalp. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You just took the first step on a journey,” Britton said, in an effort to reassure Alex. “We all drink the nectar in our initiation ritual. It’s the agent that bonds us and helps make us who we are. Think of this as a booster shot to help you on your way, since you didn’t have all of the benefits that men like Kip had growing up.”. “What the hell,” Alex breathed, looking at his chest, which his shirt hugged tightly. He’d never even had a chest before – nothing more than a flat board.

Britton said. “I’m giving you 24 hours to decide if you want to complete your initiation. If you do, your life as you know it will completely change. Your body will transform. You may even develop new tastes, new interests and new personality traits. We’ve never given more than one dose of nectar before.”

“Oh great, I’m a guinea pig,” Alex said. “What if it kills me?”

“It won’t kill you,” Kip said reassuringly, although he honestly had no clue what giving more nectar would do to a non-Alpha.

“We can’t be sure how dramatically you’ll change. The nectar can be mercurial. However, your resilience to this first dose is impressive.” Britton said encouragingly.

Kip smiled wryly. “Britton blacked out when he drank his dose, you know.”

Alex’s wide eyes had flecks of blue that hadn’t been there when he walked into the building. “I’m going to think about it. Can I talk to my mom about it?”

“No. And if you attempt to, the nectar will mute you and garble your words," Kip said in an ominous tone.

“Be back here at the same time tomorrow with your decision. But fair warning, the ritual is not for the faint of heart,” Britton said.

Alex gulped. “Can I at least get a change of clothes to walk back to my dorm? Please?”

“Of course,” Britton said, gesturing. “Follow me.”

Alex wasn’t sure what was making him more aroused: the startling changes to his body or the fact that he was wearing some of the Alphas’ fashionable hand-me-downs. The purple polo with the popped collar was a size or two too large, and they needed to punch a new hole in his belt to hold up the baggy chinos he’d been given. Even so, he had never looked so stylish. He couldn’t resist checking his reflection in every window he passed. Compared to the Alphas, he was still a skinny runt, but compared to who he was when he woke up this morning, he was the friggin’ Hulk.

When he entered his dorm, Alex figured his changes would draw immediate attention, but since his dorm mates had never noticed him much in the first place, they weren’t likely to realize how much he had changed. He snaked his way toward his room, keeping his head down as always, trying not to interfere with the Nerf football game that seemed to be in progress 24/7 in the hallway. He unlocked his room and discovered his roommate Roach on his bed, his arms wrapped tight around his girlfriend Rachel and his hands firmly gripping a bong. Roach’s real name was Rich, but he’d earned his nickname honestly due to his prodigious consumption of marijuana. Roach stared through bleary pink eyes as his roommate crossed to his own bed. “Hey, you get a haircut or something?”

Alex turned to Roach and said, “Or something, yeah.”

Roach nodded and his attention drifted. That was the typical length of any conversation with Roach. Rachel kept staring at Alex and smiled. “It looks cute.”

“Thanks,” said Alex, blushing immediately. It may have been the first compliment he’d ever received from a female who was not his mother.

As Roach and Rachel returned their attention to each other and their pipe, Alex grabbed a bathrobe, toothbrush and toothpaste and walked down to the community bathroom. There, he got his first chance to do a complete inspection of all the ways he had changed. His face seemed largely the same, only refined, as if a talented sculptor had chiseled away the less flattering features. Unless the fluorescent lights in here were playing tricks on him, his hair seemed to have taken on a golden glow and his hazel eyes had a slight blue tinge. Even the scars from his zits seemed to have smoothed out somewhat.

Pulling the borrowed polo over his head, he marveled at the muscles that now gave his body some actual heft. He was still slim, along the lines of a long-distance runner, but a far cry from his former skeletal self. He couldn’t help but wonder what was really in that so-called “nectar” and whether he should be worried about imbibing something that could generate such immediate changes to his body. He decided to go to the free clinic tomorrow and get his blood tested, to make sure he hadn’t been slipped something toxic.

Alex returned to his room, where Roach and Rachel had dozed off. Alex removed the bong from Roach’s hand to prevent the pungent water from spilling onto the carpet. Alex slipped into bed, wearing only boxers and a white tee that Britton and Kip had given him. Alex chuckled at the notion that he even knew people whose names were “Britton” and “Kip”. Then again, he had a roommate named “Roach”, so having friends with preppy names would definitely be a step up. And that elegant Alpha House sure was a far more appealing place to live than the cinder-block prison cells of his uninspiring dormitory. Too bad he couldn’t imagine ever living up to the demanding standards of the Alphas. He drifted to sleep, absent-mindedly pushing up the bottom of his t-shirt and brushing his fingertips across the faint beginnings of ab muscles. All night he dreamt of being in ancient Greece, watching the Olympics and listening to orations by some of the great names of history. Plato, Aristotle…and was there a Kip?

Alex woke in the morning, energized and clear-headed. His first glance in the mirror took him by surprise, as the events at Alpha House seemed like they had been part of his odd Greek dreams. His hair looked even blonder as beams of sunlight caught it through the window, and his cheeks were coated with a slight amount of stubble which his baby face had never previously been able to grow. He quickly pulled on his borrowed clothes and rushed to Starbucks.

While waiting, he saw a tall, handsome jock enter and edge his way subtly into the front of the line with his buddies rather than taking his proper place at the end of the queue. “End of the line’s back here,” Alex heard someone say in a firm confident voice, becoming aware as the words rolled out that they were actually coming from his own mouth. He could feel the rest of the line collectively inhale as the jock pivoted slowly. Alex’s eyes darted about, as if he too were looking for the dimwit who unwisely said those words.

The jock zeroed in on Alex and walked toward him. His eyes glared down darkly from their perch a foot above Alex’s. “You got something to say to me, shorty?”

Alex felt an instinct to cower and cringe, but a comfortable feeling spread through his body as he realized he was in the right, goddammit. “You got a problem with taking your turn like the rest of us ordinary humans? Or are you just an entitled prick?”

Alex honestly didn’t know where this was coming from, but he was warming to it. He stood to his full height, such as it was, and squared his meager shoulders in defiance. The tall guy looked at him disdainfully, but then noticed other eyes in the shop glancing at him to see what he would do next. If he continued to argue or raised a hand in anger to this little guy, he knew that he WOULD look like an entitled prick, and a bully on top of it. He decided to laugh it off and swaggered to the end of the line as if he had won something.

When Alex reached the front of the line and ordered his latte, the cute brunette barista refused to take his money. She whispered with a grin, “That a-hole Devin comes in here every day and does that. You’re the first person who was ever brave enough to tell him off.” Alex shrugged sheepishly, noticing the name “Jennifer” on her nametag, then looked up and got sucked in by her deep brown eyes. He had no idea what to say to her. Jennifer noticed the restlessness of the waiting customers and whispered to Alex, smiling sweetly, “You better step aside, you entitled prick.”

Alex moved along and got his coffee, with his name and a heart written on the side, and another heart shape formed in the foam. As he walked to the exit, he raised his cup victoriously at the jock, who was still steaming at the rear of the line. Alex didn’t notice the front door swinging toward his face, but his reflexes kicked in at the last second and he managed not to spill a drop.

Throughout the day, Alex felt a growing sense of well-being and self-worth. Problems that had previously baffled him in calculus class were now easier to work through. He felt much more fluent in first-semester French and actually raised his hand twice to offer opinions in his American Literature class. On top of that, he could swear that women were looking at him more than ever, although maybe he just noticed them because he was actually holding his head up more confidently today, rather than slumping and staring at his notebook.

On his way out of Lit, Alex felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around to discover Jennifer, the cute barista from that morning, grinning down at him, making both of them acutely aware that she was a good three inches taller than him.

“Hey, you. I never noticed you were in my Lit class,” she said, playfully punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m not surprised. There’s not much to notice,” Alex said, more to his shoes than to her face. He peered up at her through hanging bangs, realizing she was more pretty than cute.

“I thought what you said in there about ‘The Great Gatsby’ was really insightful. You must be a big reader.”

Alex shrugged. “No bigger than most. I guess I just felt inspired today.”

Jennifer shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, waiting for Alex to say something. When he didn’t, she said, “Maybe we could study together sometime.”

Alex found this suggestion astounding. “Uh, yeah, sure. Or maybe we could get together and grab a…”

“Please don’t say coffee,” she laughed. “I used to love coffee until I got that job. Now I can’t stand the smell of it.”

“Okay, no coffee.” Alex felt his face rising, his eyes connecting with hers. He might have to upgrade his categorization of her to “beautiful”.

She asked for his number, which she typed into her phone. “And your name is… Alex, right?” Her lopsided grin made Alex’s chest feel tight.

“Yeah, wow, I’m amazed you remembered.”

“Well, it helps that you say the same name every day.”

“I suppose. And you,” Alex said with certainty, “are Jennifer. I noticed it on your…” He attempted to point to where she usually wore her nametag and accidentally poked a finger into her left breast. Alex turned crimson with embarrassment and lowered his head, but Jennifer merely stifled a chuckle.

Still too flustered to look Jennifer in the eye, Alex felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and discovered a text from Jennifer. It read: “I like your eyes, Alex.” He looked up and saw her smiling brightly.

Jennifer noticed the time. “Oh, crap, I gotta get back to work for my afternoon shift. Promise you’ll text me, okay?” With a grin, she turned and dashed down the hall. Alex’s eyes stayed riveted to her long tan legs until she disappeared around the corner. No way would a girl like that want to date a shrimp like me, thought Alex. Today was just getting weirder and weirder.

Crossing the campus, Alex heard someone bellow, “Hey, you little asshole!” Without even looking, he knew it was Devin, his nemesis from the coffee shop. Alex kept walking, eyes straight ahead, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He felt the pounding of sneaker-clad feet on the cement behind him, which slowed as an absurdly long shadow stretched down the sidewalk beside him. A monumental hand tapped on his shoulder, then wrapped around Alex’s still spindly forearm and yanked him between two brick buildings. Alex noticed that the jock was now wearing sweatpants and what looked like an official basketball jersey. Could this dick actually be on the varsity basketball team?

Devin bent down, nose-to-nose with Alex, his spittle flying from his lips as he spoke. “Listen, you little shit. I don’t ever want to look like an idiot again.”

Once again, words emerged unexpectedly from Alex’s mouth. “That’s kinda up to you, isn’t it? I can’t really be blamed for your idiocy.”

Alex tried to take the edge off with a belated “just kidding” grin, but Devin had already placed a strong hand on Alex’s right shoulder to hold him in place. He pulled his right arm back and pounded it into Alex’s left temple. Alex was dazed, but began to thrash at his assailant erratically, his stumpy arms flailing in the air, unable to make contact. Devin dismissively shoved Alex backwards into a thorny hedge and sauntered away, satisfied that he had gotten his revenge.

When Alex straggled into the campus free clinic, the bump around his left eye was already inflating and deepening to purple. His face and arms were scratched and bloody from the hedge, with many snags in his borrowed polo shirt. As he walked to check in, he felt yet another tap on his shoulder and turned around warily, unsure what to expect this time. There stood Britton, on one of his three hours of weekly volunteer work at the clinic.

“Jesus, man, what happened to you?” Britton asked.

“Some giant prick punched me out, and it’s all your fault.”

Britton pulled Alex over to a plastic chair and sat beside him, speaking softly. “How is this my fault?”

“That shit you gave me last night,” Alex whispered. “I want to get a blood test to find out what it’s doing to me. It made me act all weird today.”

“Weird how?”

“Like weird…ly confident.”

Britton smiled. “Don’t you like feeling confident?”

“Not as much as I dislike getting my ass whooped.”

Britton pulled some strings to get Alex seen next. His black eye was bandaged, his scratches daubed, his blood sample taken. Enough of the Alphas were on the football team and underwent regular drug testing that Britton was confident the nectar would not show up as a foreign substance in Alex’s blood test.

Britton waited beside Alex while the blood sample was evaluated. As they waited in silence, Alex’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw that Jennifer had sent him a photo. She had drawn a revolver on a Starbucks cup and was holding it next to her head with a “please kill me” expression on her face, her tongue hanging dopily out of her mouth. Alex chuckled and Britton glanced down to check out the picture.

“She’s cute,” Britton said. “Your girlfriend?”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, right.” Despite the changes he had undergone last night, he still acutely felt the difference between himself and the Platonic ideal of manliness seated beside him. Jennifer deserved better than Alex. She deserved an Alpha. She deserved a Cooper.

A doctor emerged from the lab with the results of Alex’s blood test. Alex waited nervously, but was relieved to hear that everything looked fine. “Better than fine, I’d say,” the doctor said. “Ideal.”

When Britton’s shift ended, he and Alex walked out of the clinic. “You wanna go get a pizza or something?” he asked Alex.

“Actually,” said Alex, “you got any more of that nectar?”

Britton raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch. “You’ve got a few more hours, buckaroo.”

“No one under the age of seventy uses that word,” Alex snarked.

Britton stopped dead in his tracks. “How did you know?”

Alex turned around, suddenly nervous. “Know what?”

“How did you know I’m ninety-two years old? Shit, did ‘buckaroo’ really give it away?” Alex looked for a hint of sarcasm, but Britton’s expression was completely genuine. “Alex, I haven’t told you everything. That nectar is more powerful than you could possibly imagine. I’ve been an Alpha for more than seventy years.”

Alex took two steps backward. The blood drained from his face, and even his black eye looked paler. “Wha-what?”

Britton’s voice was an eerie whisper. “And I’m the youngest Alpha. Kip is more than two hundred years old. Hell, we have one guy who fought in the Civil War. For the Union, don’t worry.”

“Jesus Christ…” Alex had a far-away look as he contemplated this stunning new information.

Britton stood still for a moment, then exploded with laughter. “Your face! You shoulda seen your FACE!” He doubled over and put his hands on his knees, laughing to the point of tears. “Oh MAN, that was good. I totally had you!”

“Asshole!” Alex stomped his foot petulantly. “C’mon, man, today’s already been confusing enough for me! With everything you’ve thrown at me already, immortality didn’t seem that weird.”

Britton was still wiping tears from his eyes. “Whooo, I should do that more often.”

Alex eyed the gleaming timepiece on Britton’s wrist. “How much did that watch cost, ya jerk?”

“An Alpha would never ask such a question, it’s unbecoming,” Britton scolded, half-sincere. “But to be honest, I actually don’t know. It was a gift from my parents for high school graduation.”

“Your parents got you a Rolex for your high school graduation?”, Alex grumbled. “My mom took me to Applebee’s.”

“Hey.” Britton took a large step and put himself in Alex’s path, stopping them both. Britton’s jaw locked and he squared his shoulders. It emphasized how much bigger than Alex he was. “I don’t want to hear any more of that, you understand?”

“What?” Alex leaned back, surprised.

“Jealousy. Jealousy is bullshit. It fucks with your head and ruins friendships. I’ve dealt with it before, from both sides, and it’s painful, and it’s sad. Don’t let it in. Don’t let it mess with you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alex, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “I was just kidding.”

“I know you were, but I saw a seed of something, and I’m stamping it out right now. Once we go inside that house, you’re going to change. You’re going to change a lot. Not even I know how radical it’s going to be. And if all parts of you get magnified, that’s one thing that shouldn’t be.”

Alex felt embarrassed, and he didn’t like being scolded by a person he now considered a friend and, he hoped, a peer. But he did understand Britton’s point. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, buddy.” Britton moved back next to Alex and they started walking again. “The Alphas have to keep each other in check. I expect you to do the same for me one day. That’s what brotherhood is all about.”

“I never had a brother.”

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with one now.”

They walked a block and took a right. It was only when they rounded the corner that Alex realized they were en route to the Alpha house. His heart began to race. It was really happening.

“So,” said Britton, “what made your mind up?”

“I don’t think it was one thing. It was a lot of things,” Alex mused. “I just felt like if I say ‘no’ now, I’d go the rest of my life wondering “what if?”, while I watched you become a Senator or win a Nobel Prize or whatever.” He sighed. “I know it’s not something to take lightly, but I think this is really the only choice. A man should do his best to be a success in all things, and now that I have this option…why would I turn it down?”

Britton nodded. “I thought you were going to say because of the Starbucks hottie on your phone.”

“Her too,” Alex smiled boyishly. “A girl like that has never given me the time of day before.”

“Isn’t that funny?” Britton said. “You don’t even look THAT different yet. It must just have been the way you carried yourself that made her take notice of you.”

“You’re super inspiring today, man. You’re a preppy male Oprah.”

“Thanks, I try.” They walked into the yard of the Alpha house and up the steps. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” Just the question made Alex even more twitchy. He could hear the implication in Britton’s question: you should be nervous.

They opened the front door and walked in. Britton checked his hair in a mirror on the wall. “I’m going to go get Kip. You can just hang out here for a little bit.” He bounded up the stairs two at a time and went around the corner. Alex heard him knock on Kip’s door, but after that, silence.

Alex looked at the grand front hall of the Alpha house. It was painstakingly maintained, with ornate carvings in the wood and a beautiful chandelier. This place was pure opulence, like something out of a movie. Alex tried to keep himself calm, but he was growing more scared by the moment. Scared of what he was doing, scared of what he could become, scared of the unknown. He thought about sprinting through the door and never coming back. Part of him said running away would be a good idea, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

He looked at pictures of Alpha classes throughout the years. Each year’s portrait was like a model convention. All the brothers had perfect faces, smiles, hair, bodies. Broad shoulders lined up in rows, clad in the clothes of the era. Alex was amazed that the Alpha men of the 1920s looked just as handsome and buff as the brothers now. The men in the more recent photos were huge and handsome, but at least bodybuilding wasn’t uncommon these days. A hundred years ago, though, the Alphas must have been seen as genuine freaks of nature.

A brother walked through the main hallway, wearing nothing but Alpha-emblazoned sweat shorts that clung to his thighs. Alex reached out to get his attention. “’Scuse me?”

The guy looked up. He looked like a GQ model. “Yeah?”

Alex was tongue-tied. “Uh, I, uh…where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s one down that hall,” the guy motioned, flicking his head to move a lock of glossy hair off his forehead.

“Thanks.” Alex tried to lock the guy’s face in his mind. They were going to be frat brothers. He couldn’t believe it.

Alex’s stomach was in knots. It was a single bathroom, no stall, so he locked the door and looked at the toilet. Then he lurched forward, fell onto his knees and vomited into it. His hands gripped the toilet seat and made it shake. He barely got his mouth wiped before he heard a rap on the door.

“Alex?” Britton said through the door. “That you in there?”

Alex gulped so he could talk. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you throwing up?”

Too long of a pause. “No.”

“Yes, you are, man, I heard you. Let me in.”

Alex shuffled over to the door and sheepishly unlocked it. On the other side stood Britton, and behind him, Kip, in a beautiful shirt and tie. “I’m fine,” Alex maintained.

“Really? ‘Cause you have vomit on your face.”

Alex quickly walked to the sink and washed his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said once more.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this today,” Kip said. His lip curled when he looked at Alex and saw the black eye and scratches. “What the hell happened to you? Britton, he looks like hell.”

“No, please, I want to do it. I want to do it now. I’m just scared, okay? I’m really scared, but I know it’s what I want to do.”

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