Grabass

from [http://thecyoaproject.wikia.com/wiki/Not_Saved! Not Saved]

“Aww, what the hell.” You say. If you're going to be killed by a girl with a gun, you might as well enjoy yourself before you go down, right? Your hands fly down to Danny's large and muscular butt. Your hands clench some awesome girl-ass and you sigh contentedly. For a second.

The way her elbow flies into your jaw really doesn't surprise you, at least not in retrospect. What does surprise you is the way that she jams the stop button on the elevator when you reel backwards.

“What part of 'I'm you' did you not fucking understand?” She asks, turning around to face you and looking royally pissed.

“The whole thing, actually.” It was the truth, after all.

“If I had sex with you, it would create a temporal paradox, and you don't want that. Space-time is already fucking wacky, and you don't want to mess with it anymore than is strictly necessary” She says. You feel yourself become turned on, smart girls are so hot!

“So, if it didn't create a paradoxy thing, you'd have sex with me?” You say, grinning.

She groans. “No. No fucking way. You are so not my fucking type. And if you grope me again, I'll rip your dick off.”

The idea intrigues you, and you undo your belt. “I'd like to see you try.” You say, smiling.

But she does not make good on her offer, instead the buttstock of her rifle slams into your jaw. You flop against the wall, dazed, and she repeats this motion again. This time, the wooden stock hits your nose, and you feel a break. The pain is intense, but it's got nothing on the searing agony that happens when Danny swiftly brings her knee into your exposed balls, crushing them both. Your stomach churns in sympathy and you lose your balance, and will to live.

As you flop onto the ground, she stomps on your manhood 7 more painful times, before hitting the button on the elevator. At the ground floor, she calmly leaves, with you lying in a quivering heap. A security guard in the lobby hears your moaning eventually and comes in.

“Are you okay buddy?” He asks.

“Dick... ouch...” you say between fits of crying.

Two days later, you wake up in the hospital, and find out the dreadful news. The damage to your penis and testicles was intense, and irreparable. In an effort to save your life, the surgeons had to castrate you. Your face is broken too, but that's a lesser concern. You cry quietly to yourself, as you begin life without a penis.

After being discharged, your hormonal imbalance causes you to stop growing facial hair, which is cool at first because it meant you had to shave less often. But it doesn't stop there. You feel different, and suddenly your skin is soft? After a call to the doctor, it occurs to you that your body is becoming less manly. The doctor tells you that he can write you a prescription for hormone pills that will balance out your lack of balls, so at least you'll still be a man (for the most part). However, you find out that your HMO does not cover this. They would, however, cover a sex change surgery.

Hit by this disastrous news, you weigh the options in your head. Which would be better, life as a chick, or life as some asexual thing? Neither option appeals to you. But the days you spend mulling it over drag into weeks, and finally into months, and you feel your masculinity slipping away, sort of like reverse puberty.

When you sit down to watch Netflix and look at your recommendations, you realize that 8 of the 10 are romantic comedies. “Dear God, I've become a girl.” You mutter softly, in your less impressive voice. Teary eyed, you walk into your kitchen, pull out a butcher's knife, and stab it a few times into your neck. Better to die a kinda-man than live as a girl, right? Maybe? Hopefully?

<p style="margin-bottom:0in">''That wasn't very bright! Perhaps you'd care to start back over on page 1? You know, because you're dead and the game is over anyway.''