Cybersissy 2070

Sissyboi Sadmann’s back hurt.

His back hurt because his posture was poor.

His posture was poor because in school he learned how the pilgrims unfairly treated the native Americans but he did not learn how to stand upright.

This was amplified by his addiction to video games and pornography, which was easily adopted with his ample amount of free time from not playing any sports or belonging to any clubs.

This is all okay, because ideal male posture is horrifyingly close to sexual harassment. Walking with your legs leading horrifyingly exposes your pelvic region. It’s better to keep your head down like the dog-man that you are. Don’t horrifyingly offend or challenge anyone with your physical presence. Don’t even have a physical presence.

If you’re walking with your head up and chest out in 2070, you’re ASKING for it.

Sissyboi’s best friend Chad never complains about back pain.

Sissyboi wonders why.

It must be because he has good genetics. Genetics determine everything except the intelligence of minorities, and Chad DEFINITELY has good genetics.

Sissyboi and Chad got drunk one night and sucked each other off. They kissed, too. Chad sometimes makes lewd jokes about fucking him.

Sometimes Sissyboi wonders what life would be like just letting Chad take care of him financially in exchange for letting him smash his boipussy every night. It can’t possibly hurt that much. It can’t possibly hurt as much as his back does.

It’d be even easier if he were a girl. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about his asshole stretching out. Is Chad even gay? “Am I?” ponders Sissyboi. Does it matter?

Sissyboi logs on to Twitter.

“I know I’m a RICH, WHITE, MALE, so my life is BASICALLY EASY MODE XD” tweets the Blue Checkmark. LMAO! Good one! As a gamer, Sissyboi gets the joke. But being white and male, Sissyboi also wonders if his life really is “Easy Mode”, or if there’s maybe something else in the equation, some kind of tangible, objective benefit that Blue Checkmark has. Maybe something in coin-or-paper form that could be represented on a screen with some kind of $ymbol. And maybe this something is so important that having it makes your race and sex irrelevant. What could it be???

“Hang yourself, husk-man. Pretender. Theatrical drama-qu33n, emotional predator. You’re dead if I ever see you in public, Wil, you fucking idiot.” Sissyboi tweets at Blue Checkmark. Sissyboi is banned from Twitter soon after. It actually upsets him, even though he knew it was going to happen. A part of his identity has been buried, violently, by a website’s automated moderating system.

“On all levels except physical, I am a cumslut,” he sighs as he begins texting Chad.

>Hey sexy.
>Oh hai. Sup?
>Wanna fuck?
>Srs?
>Come over

Chad wasn’t gay and there was no chance that this was going to be parlayed into a meaningful relationship, or the “Easy Mode” life that Sissyboi yearned for. But at least he wouldn’t get HIV from Chad.

Chad is safe. There is safety with him and only with him. In his arms. On his lap. Underneath him.

“Hideous degeneracy,” spat Sissyboi, cursing his lapse of judgment.

Imagine getting horny because you threatened Wil Wheaton and then inviting your best friend over to fuck you. Would this ruin their friendship?

“I can’t let this happen,” Sissyboi sobs.

Chad arrives and asks him what’s wrong, even though he already knows the answer. Chad knows he won’t be getting Sissyboi’s ass tonight, and even though he’s upset that he wasted fifteen minutes tearing apart his apartment looking for lubricant, he still cares about Sissyboi enough to tell him to cheer up and invite him to go out for a beer.

At the bar, Sissyboi sees the most beautiful girl in the entire world, but the micro-second he makes eye-contact with her, the corporate-government’s friendly nanomachines inside his skull recognize a problem and projects porn directly into his mind’s eye, distracting him.

“She was out of your league anyway, kid,” reports his Friendly Federal Assistant into his earpiece. “Her PVP level is 39. She’d tear your dick off and then punch it back up into you. Her cyber-augments are off the chain.”

“Thanks for saving me, Dan.” mumbles Sissyboi.

“What’s wrong?” asks Chad.

Sissyboi points at his earpiece.

“I keep telling you to take that shit out.”

“It’s going to be mandatory eventually, I might as well get used to it,” repeats Sissyboi for the millionth time.

The gorgeous girl at the bar smiles at him and Dan zaps some more porn into his face to calm him down. Calm down, don’t get any ideas kid. Kid. Son. Sonny boy. Sonny boi.

“On all levels except physical, I am a cumslut.”

sissyboi

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