This is a very short and uneventful story, so I'm going to tell two different versions of it, and you'll try to guess which one really happened.
Version A:
I walked into the food court. The mall in general seemed pretty empty, though that didn't surprise me since it was only Tuesday. As I wandered the mall, knowing full well how suspicious I looked with my gaze darting about from my resting bitch face, I derided myself for committing to something I would've immediately dismissed as foolish were I not so touch-starved. Lots of couples (generally looksmatched with only one noticeable outlier), single mothers with their kids, a few female groups. Again, not surprising, but nobody seemed very approachable. Images of handcuffs, tasers, and surveillance cameras lingered in my mind as it reminded me repeatedly that asking complete strangers to hug you can be construed as harassing behavior, which it likely will be if you're a sub 5 male.
After wandering around for, I would guess about an hour and a half, taking long breaks to browse wares, I found this pair of homely-looking girls on a wooden bench doing not much as far as I could tell. I figured because of their looks that they at least wouldn't be ready to call the cops on a sub 8 guy asking to hug them, so I walked up to them.
"Excuse me."
They looked at me. When I got a closer look at their faces, I was shocked at how much younger they looked up close than from farther away. Though I'd initially thought they were in their early 20's, they looked like early-to-mid teenagers to me now, and they might've been even younger. I was never good at guessing people's ages.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked, forgetting both about the pedo scare and the fact that I'm pushing 25.
"Um," said one, "okay, what?"
"Can you give me a hug?" My face was dead serious, like I'd told them their parents died in a car crash.
They looked at each other with nervous smiles on their faces, and they said something to the effect of "no, thanks, I'm busy."
"No?" I said. "Okay."
Not that I believed them for a minute, as they clearly were not busy with anything, but no means no. As I walked away, it dawned on me just how creepy I came across, due to my resting bitch face, subpar genetics, and probably very large age difference. I was also reminded of how stupid the idea was. You might think I was devastated by this emotionally, but the effect was actually minute; somewhat bittersweet. I had actually imagined much worse, especially after I'd realized they were teenagers.
I considered making more attempts, but mall security seemed too keen on me, so this consideration was brief. The cameras and handcuffs reentered my mind. So, I left, asking myself why I did something so stupid in the first place.
The answer was to prove to myself that I could.
Version B:
I strutted down the food court, my katana warm in her sheath as my black trenchcoat fluttered in the cold breeze with my every waddling step. My breath was loud and heavy, for I carry enough lard around my waistline to feed a village for seventeen fortnights. As I scanned the building forvictims subjects playthings females to harass accost query, the grease laid upon my acne-ridden face glistened in the fluorescent light from above.
When the sight of a pair of delectable young femoids caught my leering eyes, I grinned and licked the blood off my rotten teeth and swollen gums. I lumbered toward them, laid a hand on one of their shoulders, and sputtered my opening line.
"Guh... duh... g-g-reetings, m-milad-dy."
The pair slowly turned their heads to me, their noses crunching upward as my armpit stink wafted into their nostrils and eyeballs like mustard gas.
One of them cringed. "Uh, yeah, what is it?"
"W-well, uh... er... I was wondering if, y'know, I could have a... hug?" I felt like Chad already.
"Um, no, sorry."
My teeth clenched. A hot rage seethed through my face, turning my cheeks red. "What? You bitch!" I unsheathed my katana and pointed it at her throat, grinning as her hands shook. She seemed unaware that the edge was plastic. "Fucking roastie!"
A handsome muscular man who heightmogged me by at least fifteen inches grabbed my toy katana by the blade and pulled it out of my grip. "Leave these girls alone," he said. "Don't make me call the cops."
I shrunk into my trenchcoat and hunched my back over, bowing in my head in submission to this white knighting Chad. "Erm, s-s-sss-sorry. I-I'll be g-going now. You can k-keep the katana."
Humiliated, I turned away and made my retreat. Damned Stacies and Chads, I thought to myself. They belong in concentration camps.
Version A:
I walked into the food court. The mall in general seemed pretty empty, though that didn't surprise me since it was only Tuesday. As I wandered the mall, knowing full well how suspicious I looked with my gaze darting about from my resting bitch face, I derided myself for committing to something I would've immediately dismissed as foolish were I not so touch-starved. Lots of couples (generally looksmatched with only one noticeable outlier), single mothers with their kids, a few female groups. Again, not surprising, but nobody seemed very approachable. Images of handcuffs, tasers, and surveillance cameras lingered in my mind as it reminded me repeatedly that asking complete strangers to hug you can be construed as harassing behavior, which it likely will be if you're a sub 5 male.
After wandering around for, I would guess about an hour and a half, taking long breaks to browse wares, I found this pair of homely-looking girls on a wooden bench doing not much as far as I could tell. I figured because of their looks that they at least wouldn't be ready to call the cops on a sub 8 guy asking to hug them, so I walked up to them.
"Excuse me."
They looked at me. When I got a closer look at their faces, I was shocked at how much younger they looked up close than from farther away. Though I'd initially thought they were in their early 20's, they looked like early-to-mid teenagers to me now, and they might've been even younger. I was never good at guessing people's ages.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked, forgetting both about the pedo scare and the fact that I'm pushing 25.
"Um," said one, "okay, what?"
"Can you give me a hug?" My face was dead serious, like I'd told them their parents died in a car crash.
They looked at each other with nervous smiles on their faces, and they said something to the effect of "no, thanks, I'm busy."
"No?" I said. "Okay."
Not that I believed them for a minute, as they clearly were not busy with anything, but no means no. As I walked away, it dawned on me just how creepy I came across, due to my resting bitch face, subpar genetics, and probably very large age difference. I was also reminded of how stupid the idea was. You might think I was devastated by this emotionally, but the effect was actually minute; somewhat bittersweet. I had actually imagined much worse, especially after I'd realized they were teenagers.
I considered making more attempts, but mall security seemed too keen on me, so this consideration was brief. The cameras and handcuffs reentered my mind. So, I left, asking myself why I did something so stupid in the first place.
The answer was to prove to myself that I could.
Version B:
I strutted down the food court, my katana warm in her sheath as my black trenchcoat fluttered in the cold breeze with my every waddling step. My breath was loud and heavy, for I carry enough lard around my waistline to feed a village for seventeen fortnights. As I scanned the building for
When the sight of a pair of delectable young femoids caught my leering eyes, I grinned and licked the blood off my rotten teeth and swollen gums. I lumbered toward them, laid a hand on one of their shoulders, and sputtered my opening line.
"Guh... duh... g-g-reetings, m-milad-dy."
The pair slowly turned their heads to me, their noses crunching upward as my armpit stink wafted into their nostrils and eyeballs like mustard gas.
One of them cringed. "Uh, yeah, what is it?"
"W-well, uh... er... I was wondering if, y'know, I could have a... hug?" I felt like Chad already.
"Um, no, sorry."
My teeth clenched. A hot rage seethed through my face, turning my cheeks red. "What? You bitch!" I unsheathed my katana and pointed it at her throat, grinning as her hands shook. She seemed unaware that the edge was plastic. "Fucking roastie!"
A handsome muscular man who heightmogged me by at least fifteen inches grabbed my toy katana by the blade and pulled it out of my grip. "Leave these girls alone," he said. "Don't make me call the cops."
I shrunk into my trenchcoat and hunched my back over, bowing in my head in submission to this white knighting Chad. "Erm, s-s-sss-sorry. I-I'll be g-going now. You can k-keep the katana."
Humiliated, I turned away and made my retreat. Damned Stacies and Chads, I thought to myself. They belong in concentration camps.
