Sam needed a female guest for his taste-test video. Every girl he asked said no. So he came to me, the friend he routinely mocks for being feminine, and convinced me to appear as “Michelle.” I’m in lipstick, kneeling in front of him, posed way too close from his junk, eyes covered and headphones on. I can’t see, I can’t hear, and I already feel humiliated. This is exactly the kind of joke he makes at my expense. But he’s my best friend, and he said he really needed this. So I agreed. Then the “taste test” starts. Sam feeds me things one at a time, no biting, just licking, and narrates it in a way that makes my skin crawl. Every second, I’m telling myself it’s almost over. That I’m helping him out. That this is just Sam being Sam. What I don't realize is that Sam isn’t even filming a taste-test video. He’s setting me up for a prank he knows I’d never agree to, and I’m blindfolded, kneeling, and completely unaware of what’s actually about to happen.