From Shack to Shack Out
The sign read “Future Home of ΔCL – Dizzum Cum Large” but the building looked more condemned than collegiate. A line of nervous recruits stood outside, clutching duffel bags like they were reporting for punishment. From the shadows of the porch, Miss Dizzum watched them with the slow grin of someone who had already planned every step of their transformation. If these girls thought sorority life meant pillow fights and glitter, they were about to meet the squat rack version of hell.
Drill Sergeant Dizzum
Day one of bootcamp hit harder than a double shot of espresso. Dizzum stormed into the training hall in neon spandex, mirrored aviators, and a whistle that could cut glass. Her clipboard was less for notes and more for pointing at targets. “Drop it lower! Tighten it up! No carb left behind!” she barked, stalking between push-ups and balance drills. Even the air seemed scared to slack off. In this sorority, sisterhood came with sore quads.
The Victory Lap
Weeks later, the transformation was complete. The creaky old shack had given way to a gleaming white mansion crowned with a giant ΔCL banner. Miss Dizzum led the victory parade in hot pink shorts and a glare that said she owned the block. Behind her, a squad of glittering cheerleaders popped champagne and tossed pom-poms in the air. From flabbergasted recruits to a full-on glam army, Dizzum hadn’t just built a sorority—she had staged a takeover.
