Out of the frying pan

Dropping into a squat and dashing for the door, you somehow just manage to avoid a trio of giants who instead grab a frightened young girl. Ignoring your chivalrous side for self preservation, you quickly leave the auditorium and it’s growing sounds of pleasure and sex.

You try to catch a breath at the top of the stone steps leading towards the main quad, hands on your knees as you pant visibly. Will all year be like this? What the hell have you gotten yourself into, and how the hell will you survive. You can’t contemplate long, as you realize the peril is far from over.

Out on the quad between where you stand and the freshmen male dorms are multiple groups of upperclassmen. Some are just two or three people, others seem to be whole clubs worth. This must be an annual tradition of picking off freshmen... one you walked blindly into. You really have only three options at this point, and none sound promising. You could try to run for it, but that seems bleak. You could try to sneak and hide, laying low until it’s dark enough to get back without being caught, but who knows how long that would take. The final option, the one you are most **** to think about, is you could head for a group of your choice, and chance that a willing prey would have an easier time than a captured one.