dooshbag
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dooshbag
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dooshbag
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IM DELETING YOU, DADDY!:sob::wave: ██]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 10% complete..... ████]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 35% complete.... ███████]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 60% complete.... ███████████] 99% complete..... :no_entry_sign:ERROR!:no_entry_sign: :100:True:100: Daddies are irreplaceable :sparkling_heart:I could never delete you Daddy!:sparkling_heart: Send this to ten other :family:Daddies:family: who give you :sweat_drops:cummies:sweat_drops: Or never get called :cloud:️squishy:cloud:️ again:x::x::grimacing::grimacing::x::x: If you get 0 Back: no cummies for you :no_entry_sign::no_entry_sign::imp: 3 back: you're squishy:cloud:️:sweat_drops: 5 back: you're daddy's kitten:kissing_cat::angel::sweat_drops: 10+ back: Daddy

I was transferred into Honors Geometry a day ago, and already I could feel my peers gazing lasers into my back. Could they tell that I don’t watch Rick and Morty? No... couldn’t be. I was on the same level as the rest of them. They wouldn’t be able to know already... One of them slams their sweaty palms on my desk. His Rick and Morty hat covers up his greasy black mop that he called hair, he smelled of potato chips and soda. “Wubba lubba dub dub?!” He yells at me. I’m scared, I can’t respond. They’ve got me, they know I’m the odd one out here. The Rick and Morty fans are going to devour my flesh, right here in my 4th hour Honors Geometry class. The teacher, a nice old lady, turns to see a mob of them crowding around me. She smiles, and mutters “It’s time to get schwifty. They knew my secret, and now I was paying for it. By offering myself up to our lord and savior, Pickle Rick.

-rep "They're a dollar for men because of the corrupt patria--" I stop her short in a textbook case of verbal rape. "That sounds fine. Give me the whole box." I pull out a capitalist paper bill with the image of a Cis White Male Slaveowner on it. The strong woman before me whimpers in psychic pain as I hand the bill to her, she has been reduced to a slave -- nay -- a commodity. "Thank you" she says meekly, feeling violated. I give a sensual grunt as I bite into one of the sweet, moist cupcakes. "Mmmm... It was my privilege."

-rep FEMINIST BAKESALE. I give a low-pitched chuckle with my testosterone privileged vocal cords. "So you girls have been busy in the kitchen, what did you bake?" One strong woman stands with a box to rest on the table. Her eyes are welled with tears at the oppression she is suffering. "C-cupcakes" - "I love cupcakes, let me see what you have there" I reach my phallic hand over and open the virginal box this poor woman is holding. My male gaze objectifies the cupcakes. "Oh those look good. How much?" Another strong woman speaks up, images of Susan B Anthony flash in her head.

-REP Strolling through college campus unaccompanied as I often do. Not worried about being harassed or raped because I am a man. See group of young ladies struggling to set up a folding table. Two strong women have extended the legs and are trying to flip the table upright. I approach them uninvited and say hello. One flees, triggered. "let me help with that girls" I easily flip the table upright with... my masculine strength. Now upright, I can see the sign taped to the table top.

hello everyone. this group is long dead huh?

7 admins??