Florida Palm College

From the time you were very little, it was apparent that you liked girls. You took being a lesbian to the next level. Every time you looked at a girl you started getting wet, to the point where you couldn't even buy bras online because of all the boobs. It was hard to focus in class when you were surrounded by cute girls, so you graduated high school with a 2.3 GPA, just barely enough to get a diploma. You were rejected by all six of the colleges you applied to.

Things were starting to look okay as you took a class at the community college during the summer, but you ended up getting placed on academic probation after you commented on a girl's butt. You were starting to get . One day your mom came and told you about Florida Palm College.

Despite a normal-sounding name, the college was anything but normal. Its curriculum revolved completely around sex. Your mom decided that since you couldn't get your mind off sex, at least you could go to a college where you'd be rewarded for it. To make it even better, the college was all women, a perfect playground for lesbians.

The campus was about an hour from Jacksonville, embedded in the coastal swamp. White modern buildings rose up above the palm trees, broken up by paths and green space.

The air was furiously hot and the blue sky only held a few sparse clouds. A perfect day for orientation. As you wandered around campus you couldn't help but wonder where everyone was. It was strangely quiet and empty.

"Morgan!" said someone.

You turned to face a girl who was wearing a green and white dress.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Chenoa," she said. "I'm your mentor. Are you looking for orientation?"

You nodded.

"Do you want me to show you where it is?" she asked.