Fifi sounds quite convincing and so you relax too. In fact it is quite some time before you realize that Fifi still has not moved and is still loafing by the pool. She has been taking so long that you begin to fear you are half digested. "Fifi!"

"Yes my dear."

"Shouldn't you get taking me to the nurse now?" The worry is clear on your voice.

"I think I will send you to the nurse instead. I am enjoying my little snack too much to move."

"But I'll digest if you don't let me out soon!"

"Well, of course. That's how I will send you to the nurse."

"What?! I'll die! You can't do this to me!"

"Don't be silly my lunch. I am doing it to you, and no, you are not going to die. You'll just reform in the nurse's office."

You have heard statements like this, but they are hard enough to believe even when you are not in somebody's stomach about to dissolve into nutrition. Frantically, you try to get out. Probably a futile task on the best of days, but now you found you have waited too long and you are about as strong as a rubber doll. Your most powerful blows are harmless. You keep trying even as you become softer and softer, eventually not even able to keep your arms up. You slump down, and then start to puddle down. Soon you are nothing but a pool of liquid. Just what happens next you don't know as you finally lose consciousness.

You do wake in a nurse's office, rather to your shock. As you try to recover, you see a fantastic blond dressed in a pink nurse’s outfit – well sorta dressed in it. It looks like it might have fit her when she was about 10, but she has grown, a lot, since then, and the outfit has shrunk. You have no idea how she could possibly get into it, but with the strain her massive set is putting on it you would not be surprised if she was out of it at any time. One button has already yielded to the strain and you stare at two others that surely are unable to take up the slack.

“A new student, eh. Well, I’m Nurse Cassandra.” You jerk your attention upward to see her looking at you over her glasses with a disapproving expression. Can’t really say you blame her. You can get upset when somebody stares at your rack. “1st thing, drink this.” She continues as she hands you a small glass of something. It looks ok, tho to be honest, you are paying more attention to her skirt, which also is about half as much cloth as regulations call for. Downing the drink quickly, you wonder if she would be willing to mix business with pleasure. Nobody could be dressed like this without being interested. But you didn't make the best of first impressions, and that bulge in her belly might be the remains of the last student to make a pass at her.