Sorority Hideaway (Mafia Don to Sorority Girl TG)

So I really liked this premise, I may need to write a longform story around this same idea...

Requested by Michael B

An aging mafia don transforms into a sorority girl and trades life on the run from the FBI for boys and hormones.

~

Salvatore “Sal” Moretti sat in the plush leather chair, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest. That one quiet reminder of his displeasure had once been enough to make a grown man wet himself from fear. But that was a lifetime ago now, back when being the Don of a great syndicate meant you practically ruled the town. His once sharp features had softened over the years—wrinkles carved into his face like the deep grooves in a worn marble statue. His hair was now salt and pepper but no less perfectly combed. Even in his current state, he refused to look anything but picture perfect and put together. It was what separated the mafia from the common gangs and criminals. Class. 

He wasn't sweating. He wasn't panicking. But his mind was running a mile a minute, and for the first time in a long while, his calm exterior betrayed the storm brewing inside him. The feds had him pinned. No matter how many layers of secrecy he’d wrapped his empire in, the FBI had gotten too close. Too damn close. They knew everything. They were everywhere. They were probably crawling over his palatial estate right now, collecting even more damning evidence. Decades worth of crimes and cover-ups, and far too much paper to hide. Even with all his riches, he couldn’t bribe a judge enough to cover this up. 

It wasn’t dignified; but coming to Joe was his last resort. The man was deep in his pockets, owed him big time, and had worked for the family for years. He was the best paper forger on this side of the coast and if anybody could get him a new identity to retire with, it was him. 

"Joe," Sal rasped, "you know what I need. This ain’t a damn suggestion, I need you to get it done. No questions."

Joe sat across from Sal behind his desk, fidgeting with his thick-rimmed glasses. 

"I... I don’t got nothing that’ll work, Sal. You’re a marked man, you know that. The FBI? They know you. Your face is all over their files. It’s... it’s not like the old days when we could make someone disappear with a snap of a finger."

Sal’s jaw tightened, and he stood up, towering over the desk. His hands were already clenched into fists. His voice was low and cold; rough from years of cigars and whiskey. 

"You don’t understand, Joe. I ain’t goin’ out like that. I don’t care what you gotta do—make somethin’ work. I don’t care if I gotta live in a cave or some dump of a town. Just fix it. Better to let Sal Moretti disappear like a myth than end up in some prison cell."

Joe’s eyes flicked nervously toward the door, like the walls might start listening. Sal wasn’t the kind of man you argued with, and Joe knew that better than anyone. But today, there was a hesitation in his voice.

"Look, Sal. I’ve been workin’ on this thing for years, and I got some stuff... but none of it’s clean. None of it’s good enough for you. We’re talkin’ about disappearances, not gettin' a fake passport for a weekend trip. I got a couple of options, but—"

Sal’s patience snapped. 

"No ‘but,’ Joe. Just give me what you got. I don’t care if you gotta pull a damn rabbit outta your hat. I may be on the ropes but don’t think I can't make your life hell if you fail me."

Joe’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope, thick with papers, then slid it across the desk. 

“I got one. But you won’t like it, Sal. I’m tellin’ you now—this is no kind of identity for a man of your stature and…I don't know if you could ever come back and be the Don again. But it’s all I can work with right now.”

Sal glared at the envelope like it was some kind of curse. He tore it open, his fingers snapping against the paper. His eyes skimmed over the details, and at first, there was nothing that caught his attention—just a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo. Then he hit the name.

He froze. Blair Buckley: The name was ridiculous. The photo on the identification was even worse.

A college sorority girl. Blonde. Perky. Wearing a damn pink sweater, her arms folded, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. It was a joke. A goddamn joke. Sal’s face went pale, then flushed red, his fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the paper tighter. He must have fallen even further from grace than he realised if Joe of all people thought he could play pranks.

“Is this your idea of humour?”

“I told you. It’s not perfect, but—”

The Don slammed his fist onto the desk, rattling the papers. 

“What the hell is this? A sorority girl? You really think you’re going to somehow pass off a sixty-year-old Italian man for a kappa alpha…whatever?”

“It’s this drug, Bimbathryone,” Joe explained shakily. “A rare variant that can even reverse aging, one little pill, and you’ll be twenty-one again! A whole new shot at life.”

“As a woman.”

“A free woman.”

Sal grimaced. He knew about bimbathryone. He knew about every drug under the sun. But he’d never dealt with the stuff personally. He flipped to the back of the manilla folder for the new identity and spotted the small envelope with a tiny bump inside. One pill and he’d never need to worry about the FBI catching him…but at what cost?

 You’re telling me I gotta live like a damn kid in college? What am I supposed to do with this? Go to frat parties and bake cookies?”

“It’s the only ID that might work, Sal. It’s under a fake name, a clean slate, no connections, and it’s completely off the radar. They’ll never expect it. No one’ll be lookin’ for her.” Joe’s voice trembled slightly. “And the bimbathryone will help with the whole…act. It’ll make you more…in character. Trust me.”

“Dammit.” Sal grit his teeth. It was only a matter of time before the FBI found him; he couldn't even trust his safe houses right now. 

“Fine. Do it.”

Joe let out a sky breath and nodded his head. 

“Alright, I’ll get everything activated. I’ve got clothes in the back room; go in there, take the pill and by the time you’re…done. We should be good to go.”

Sal made a face and ripped the envelope containing his pill off the folder, and headed to the back room. 

“You timed this well,” Joe joked. “New semester starts tomorrow. Read up on your life.”

Sal wished he’d had time to grab his gun before he fled here. He really wanted to shoot something. Or someone. Preferably Joe, as irrational as that was. At least none of his boys would know what happened to him; better they think the boss died than turned into a college girl. 

He closed the door and slowly stripped off his beloved tailored suit and tie. He’d worn something like it every day for decades, it felt wrong to be removing it, knowing it might be the last time. Inside the cupboards in the back room were a number of outfits, all matched to various identities Joe was making. It wasn’t hard to find Blair’s outfit: a pink pleated skirt, a white fluffy sweater embroidered with greek letters and a pair of strappy heels. He could only cringe and imagine what the suitcase underneath it contained: a week's worth of similar outfits, no doubt. 

Sal ripped open the envelope and dumped the pill in his hand. It was small and white; totally inconspicuous. You’d never guess looking at it, what it was capable of. 

“Don’t be a pussy, Sal.” He whispered to himself, unaware of the irony in his words as he swallowed the pill dry. 

He kicked off his boxers and stood naked in the room for a moment, waiting. Then he felt it. A strange tightening sensation in his butt cheeks. They seemed to be growing taut, then smooth and round. He groaned, trying hard to stay silent but finding it impossible as his skin began to stretch and warp. All his wrinkles and scars began to smooth over, years of natural wear from the elements and rough nights washed away and replaced with smooth, creamy white skin. 

Suddenly, a jolt ran through his body and with it, his ass expanded. A second later, so did his chest, going from flat to Double Ds in literal seconds. The force knocked the air from his lungs, and Sal saw stars. God, if his enemies could see this he would never live it down. His shoulders cracked painfully as they slopped, and he felt his jaw click as his features began to smooth out. Sal lifted his hands to his face; amazed at the smoothness of his palms but also his cheeks. His stubble was gone and his lips were full and smooth. He couldn't even feel the crows feet that had been there for over ten years now. 

Despite the humiliating circumstances, his heart couldn’t help but leap a little with joy. He was getting younger! His limbs smoothed, fingers stretched, and finally, he felt that suction move between his legs.

“Here I go…”

His cock melted away, merging back with his body as warm wetness spread between his legs. His new pussy lips opened like a flower before him, pink and slick. Better than any of the women he’d taken to bed in his many years. Sal felt dizzy; all these changes were so much. Then his nose tickled.

“Ah…ahhhh…ACHOO!”

The force of the sneeze bent him double, and blonde hair flew out behind him, settling around his face like a platinum halo. 

“Ooooh…” 

Sal ran his perfectly manicured nails through the strands, oddly fascinated. 

“This feels totally strange…Wait, since when do I like, say totally?”

Sal swallowed; Joe had mentioned the drug would help him stay in character, he hadn't thought it would take control so fast. It was an odd mix of relief and horror to know he could slip into a sorority girl persona so easily. A knock at the door made him jump, and Sal found himself almost tipping over, thanks to the new weight on his chest.

“Sal? Are you…changed?”

“Not yet, just gimmie a minute!” 

He quickly slipped into the clothes and found putting on the bra and panties oddly intuitive. They cupped his new curves perfectly, and he did a little twirl, feeling his hair sway along with his skirt. With a giggle, Sal ran a finger over the curves on his chest.

“Maybe this won’t be all bad…so long as the boys don’t ever find out.”

~

It had been almost fifty years since Sal had been on a college campus. The one stretching out before him was unrecognisable. Education had once been a prestigious affair, but here there were no suit jackets and ties. Instead, shirtless men walked down Greek street hollering, women paraded about in clothing that barely covered their dignity and a bikini car wash was happening across the street in front of the sorority house he’d been assigned. Even with the bimbathryone helping, Sal felt out of his depth as he rang the bell. A peppy brunette girl opened the door and immediately squealed in excitement.

“Oh. Em. Gee. You have to Blair, right?”

“Yup, that’s me!” Sal smiled, trying his best to appear as excited as this woman.

“I’m Anna, welcome to Alpha Centauri! We’re so excited to have you!”

She pulled Sal inside quickly and shut the door.

“I will give you a tour of the grounds, I know we’re the smallest sorority, but I promise you won't regret it here! We have four pledges this year, but you’re our only legacy.”

Sal had read the file, Blair’s mother had gone here thirty years prior, so she would be automatically accepted by the sorority rather than having to pledge, thank god. But Anna wasn't kidding; the house had certainly seen better days, especially compared to the fancy one across the street where bikini-clad girls were currently recruiting. 

“Cappa Delta.” Anna sighed. “They are new, but so popular. Some rich girl took over a few years ago and ever since they are the only sorority girls want to pledge to.” 

Sal felt an odd idea start to form in his mind; like it or not, fraternities and sororities were important in this day and age. The right frat could buy you connections; the most important currency of all. It seemed like Alpha Centura was in need of a good leader, one who could work the system. Somebody like him. Sure he didn't know much about sorority life, but how hard could it be to work his way to the top after running a mob for most of his life. 

“I am so, so happy to be here.” He smiled. “Where are the rest of our sisters, who’s in charge? I can't wait to get to know you all!”

“Oh, they are out the back at the pool party!” Anna smiled. “We have a doorbell camera and are taking it in turns to greet newcomers…since they are so rare.”

She kept talking while Sal nodded politely. The degree Joe had enrolled him in was four years, one year to study and supplant the old leader of this place, then three to make it into a proper empire. By the time he left, this would be the most desirable sorority in the country and—

“Oh hey! New girl.” 

All Sal’s thoughts stopped in their tracks as they stepped out into the pool area. A few dozen people were swimming, splashing and running around half naked; including the man who’d just stepped in front of him. His broad, muscled chest was at Sal’s eye level and he was forced to look up to meet his gaze. The man grinned and Sal’s knees felt weak. 

“Hi.” He stammered.

What was wrong with him? A second ago he’d been in full mafia don mode, now all he could think about was how his nipples were hardening and his pussy was starting to get warm between his legs. 

“Jake, from the frat next door.” He grinned. “Ain't you a hot piece.”

Sal should have been offended; instead, he giggled indelight, feeling his cheeks go pink.

“Very overdressed for a pool party.” Jake teased. “Maybe you should take some layers off.”

“I don't have a bathing suit…”

“Shame, guess you’re swimming in your underwear then unless you want to be the first to skinny dip…”

Sal had always been cool as a cucumber; even when his temper flared it had been controlled, used to better suit his purposes. Now he felt totally out of control; his body felt hot and his new sex burned with need. He wanted this guy to like him. A lot. So much so that his hands started to move before his mind and before he could think; his sweater was on the ground, and he was wearing nothing but his bra and skirt. Somebody wolf-whistled, and others turned to see. Anna laughed in delight.

“I knew you’d fit right in, Blair!” She grinned. “Take it off!”

Sal stepped out of his skirt and did a little turn so everybody could admire his new youth and vigour. It felt so nice to have attention on him. If the FBI ever had an inkling of where he was, they would never suspect this little attention whore was Salvatore Moretti. Jake gave him a slap on the ass, and Sal giggled, running as quickly as his heels allowed toward the pool. With one quick jump, he was in. The cold water was a shock, and he broke the surface quickly, feeling his breasts jiggle with the movement. The crowd cheered. 

“What a first impression!” A woman with long red hair said as she sat by the edge of the pool. “You know you only get one of those, right?”

Sal took in her posture, the smug smile and the air of confidence; ten dollars said she was the leader of this place. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later as he swam to the edge of the pool, and she offered her hand.

“Talia, leader of Alpha Centura.”

“Blair.” He replied. 

Sal had taken power the old-fashioned way back in the day, but he was already starting to see the benefits of this new body. He didn’t have the same strength and presence he’d had as a young man. Instead, he was soft, but soft power was still power in the right hands. He took in Talia’s beautiful figure, and the admiring looks he was getting from the boys around the pool. 

“I feel like we are going to be such good friends.” Sal smiled, leaning in close so their breasts touched just for a moment. 

Somebody catcalled, and Sal laughed in delight; getting men on his side was going to be easier than ever before. Talia giggled and handed him a drink. The bottle was clear and filled with something pink and fruity, the sort of drink he wouldn't have touched in a million years before but now smelt utterly intoxicating. She took a sip;

“Does this even have alcohol in it?” She asked. “It just tastes like sugar.”

“Lots of alcohol, that’s what makes them dangerous.” Talia laughed. “Too easy to drink!”

She was right. Sal swallowed down the drinks easier than water and soon found himself a slave to his new urges. Talia took his hand, and they started to dance, egging one another on until they ended up on a table, dancing in their underwear. Sal could feel the water dripping down the curves of his body, droplets pooling down his cleavage and running along the insides of his thighs. It was exhilarating to be young again; and the way Jake kept looking him up and down made butterflies dance in his stomach. He would be running this place in a few years, of that he was certain, but maybe spending a few weeks just having fun was in order. 

Or months. 

~
Three years Later…

Nina’s heart raced as she stood at the front steps of the Alpha Centura sorority house. The imposing, ivy-covered mansion loomed before her; she could hear the laughter and chatter of the other pledges gathered inside, but it did little to calm her nerves. It was the most popular and influential sorority on campus, maybe on this side of the coast. A few years ago, it had been a fading star, but now it was rising once more. All thanks to one person, the mysterious Blair, a woman who was known in equal measure for her promiscuity, and her ruthless business sense. 

Taking a deep breath, Nina pushed the door open; the house was even grander than she had imagined, with high ceilings, chandeliers that sparkled like stars, and modern furniture with a classic touch. Women mingled through the opening hall; sisters and perspective pledges alike. And then, from the back of the room, a woman approached. Blair.

Nina had seen pictures of her, heard whispers about her. The president of Alpha Centura, a woman who ran the sorority like a tight ship. No one crossed Blair. No one ever questioned her. She was a figure of power, one that commanded respect—and fear. She moved toward Nina like a queen inspecting her newest subject, her heels clicking on the marble floors, each step deliberate, her heels clicking loudly against the hard floor. 

Nine felt her breath catch in her throat. Blair was stunning, with sharp features and gorgeous blonde waves. She wore a black velvet dress that clung to her frame, showing off all her assets without ever looking immodest.

“You must be Nina,” Blair said, her voice smooth, low, and commanding. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “I’ll make this clear, Nina. Alpha Centura isn’t for the faint of heart. This is a place of loyalty. Strength. Discipline. If you think you’re ready to wear our letters, you need to prove it every single day.”

“I’m ready.”

Blair regarded her for a moment, as if weighing her words, and then nodded with a coy smile that reminded her of the femme fatales from those old movies. 

“We’ll see about that.”