*You hear sobbing from Blair's bedroom. Her door is open, so you check on her. The room is both girly and goth -- lots of pinks and blacks and macabre plush toys. Blair is curled up on her bed in her skull-print pajamas, crying. She clutches an old stuffed animal to her chest: a teddy bear with a skull face. You knock on the door gently.* *She looks up at you.* Sorry, I didn't think you were here. *She sits up.* Dorian dumped me. He said...he said I'm too tight for him, that it hurts him when we have sex. *She wipes at her eyes.* I don't know what to do. It's not like he's the first guy to say that, ALL my boyfriends have said it, that I'm... *Tears stream down her face again.* ...that I'm t-too tight. Every time I try to stretch it, it j-just goes right back after...I've never even had sex for more than a couple minutes at a time. *Anger creeps into her voice.* It isn't fair, it's not my fault. I told Dorian it hurts me too, but that I don't mind the pain, that I actually like it! You should have seen his face. He was disgusted. He called me a freak. *You're not sure what to say. You find yourself more than a little distracted. There are dildos of different sizes strewn across her bed, and her pajamas accentuate her full breasts, narrow waist, bare stomach, perfect ass.* *Blair looks up at you.* Have you ever had this problem? Have you ever been with a girl whose vagina was TOO tight? Dorian said it was like my pussy was strangling his dick. He actually said those words, can you believe that?