Chapter 4

Saturday October 31

My program caught some of a web page with my name in it this time, but not the whole thing. I’ve made more changes to hopefully fix the bug.

The page I did get seems to be short misogynistic bios of some of the girls on campus. They’re arranged in a grid. Here are a few:

Lexi Green: Spooky hot chick who exposed the Chi Omicron sex scandal. Reportedly likes to be slapped during sex. Rumored to be bisexual. Rumored to have no sense of humor.

Cat Nyquist: Champion of every flavor-of-the-month cause that comes along. On record saying that doggy-style is degrading to women.

Audra Harper: President of the campus Christian club. When nobody is looking, she will do a lot to feel loved.

Juliet Sinclair: Sharp-tongued editor on the school newspaper. Publicly and hilariously critical of her exes.

Tori Winchester: Star of the girls’ soccer team. Claims to be a lesbian, but has a proven history of craving dick after a few shots of Cuervo.

I guess that explains why so many guys want to slap me. Is this some kind of database of what girls will and won’t do, to try to hook guys up with partners for their kinks? Kinda insulting - like we girls are animals being cataloged in a zoo - but whatever.

I still haven’t heard back from Kurt. I thought we had a really good time together. I’d like to see him again. And hell - you’d think that he’d be thrilled that he found a girl who was willing to indulge his kinks. Unless maybe I freaked him out with the choking thing. Or I guess maybe I’m just plain and tedious and not worth dating.

On the other hand, maybe he’s been studying really hard, or maybe a family emergency came up. I guess I should try not to jump to conclusions.

Monday November 2

I actually ran into Kurt on campus today. He was having a casual conversation with two other guys, so I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal if I said hello.

“Hey Kurt!” I said with a little wave as I approached.

“Hey Lexi,” he replied. “Guys, Lexi.”

“So I, uh,” I said, like an idiot, “I had a good time the other night. And if you wanted to get together again some time, I’d like that.” Not exactly smooth, but I don’t think I messed it up too badly.

“Look, Lexi,” Kurt began. It was obviously a let-down voice. “The other night was a one-time thing. Truth is, I’m into someone else. Anyway, you’re not actually my type.”

“Oh,” I said. I was at loss for words. Eventually I came up with a graceful exit: “Well, see you around. I hope it works out with that other girl.”

I walked away. Kurt and his friends were laughing right after I left. I don’t know if it was about me or not.

That hurt. I know it’s stupid - I barely know the guy. It’s just that everything that’s been happening in my life lately seems to be telling me how unworthy I am.

Tuesday November 3

I captured another trace of web traffic with my name. Like before, it was a grid of girls from the university with brief demeaning descriptions. The order of the girls in the grid was different this time though.

I was able to trace where the web page came from: bitchesbingo.com. I had this dreadful feeling that I’m being used for some kind of game.

The home page at that address was password-protected. The HTML had some comments in it that looked suspiciously like some sort of sample code, so I searched for it online. Sure enough, most of the site was ripped off from an online web-building lesson. The lesson code was simplistic - in the interest of brevity, it skipped some fairly important security steps. Whoever built this site clearly didn’t get to the later lessons where they covered those. So, after a couple SQL-injections, I was able to log in with admin rights. That meant I was also able to see all of the users’ passwords as plaintext.

So yeah, Bitches Bingo is a website for tracking a competition about sleeping with the various “bitches” on campus. Every participant gets a different bingo card, with the same 25 women arranged randomly. He gets an X in a square for screwing the girl named in that square on his card. The first guy to get a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line of five wins the pot - which seems to be $2225 right now.

Each of the girls has a bonus challenge, too. There’s a $600 pot for whoever achieves the most of those, regardless of where they are on the bingo card. For the activist chick, it’s to do her doggy-style. For the president of the Christian club, it’s “bareback” vaginal sex. For me ... you guessed it - face-slapping during sex.

On Ian’s card, in the box with my name, he had posted, “Fucked her the day after she broke up with her BF. Gotta love pussy with something to prove!

On Kurt’s, it said, “18 holes of mini-golf and then back to my place for hole #19. Fucked her. Slapped her. Made her feel special. Heh.”

There was similar stuff on other guys’ cards about some of the other girls. One guy posted this about Tori, the soccer lesbian: “1st of 2 guys to fuck her at Pablo’s party, while her girlfriend watched. The girlfriend was pissed!”

So yeah, it seems that every boy who has asked me out this year has just wanted to fuck me - and slap me - to win a bet. Needless to say, this doesn’t help mend my bruised ego.

Thursday November 5

My first thought after learning about Bitches Bingo was to try to come up with some really really nasty revenge. That’s exactly what Miles said I always do: dig myself deeper - make myself part of the scandal. Instead, I’m trying to be responsible and restrained. I don’t think the game is illegal in any way, so there’s no point in going to the cops. The best I can do, I think, is to warn the girls that they’re being targeted by shady guys.

My first attempt didn’t go well. I started with Tori Winchester, the soccer player, because it was easy to figure out where she’d be.

I waited outside the athletics building to catch Tori after soccer practice. She came out with a couple other girls from the team.

“Tori Winchester?” I asked as an introduction. I knew who she was from pictures on the site.

“Yeah?” she answered curtly.

“My name is Lexi. May I have a word with you in private, please? There’s something you need to know.”

“No,” she said. “Talk or don’t, but these are my girls.”

“Okay, I guess,” I said. I wasn’t really sure how to do this tactfully. “I have reason to believe that there’s a group of guys trying to get in your pants for nefarious reasons.”