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Professor Gerald Hughes of the Baltimore University of Inflation was busy packing up his notes when there was a rap on his office door. He sighed, not looking forward to more students, but got up and went to the door anyways. When he peeked out the window of the door, his disappointment increased even more. Outside was Anna Grable, a less than admirable student at the Unversity. She was a slacker, the worst he had seen in many years, and the worst part of it was that she wasn't lazy. She worked hard, but just wasn't smart enough to keep up all the time.

"It's really silly, my fetish," I say, making significant effort to allow embarrassment into my voice. I drop my eyes from his as if ashamed, though I've had this conversation a dozen times before.

"Nonsense," he counters, smiling patronizingly. It's there to read in his face: already he is fantasizing that it must be something predictably male. His imagination takes hold of him and he surmises I must be dreaming of a threesome with him and another woman. Uninspired. The truth is far more perverse.

Carry awoke with a strong groggy feeling overwhelming her. She couldn't remember exactly what had happened before she passed out. She was at a frat party with the rest of her sorority, and she recalls her leader being the first to follow one of the frat boys into the basement. They closed the doors and then...Then... From then its all just a haze. Carry got herself up on her feet and looked around. The room was medium large, with a small bed behind her, and an entertainment center in front of her. To her left was a doorway and a closed door.