Dear Fuckboi: A TomTord Satire

special snowflake safe space

Bzzt, bzzt

Tom woke up to the annoying noise of his vibrator, which he had hidden under his pillow. He wasn't gay, he just liked to rub it on his dick. He grabbed the sex toy, and thought about getting a quick use out of it this morning. No, not this morning. He had a math exam today.

Getting up, Tom reached into a drawer, reaching for his school uniform. Tight pants and a shirt that chafed his nipples. Perfect. Just perfect. Saying goodbye to the loving fleece embrace of his pajamas, he squeezed into the gay fucking school uniform.

He brushed his hair, using long, upward strokes to give it that Bart Simpson look. He was quite the edgelord, and hated social contact because he's super relatable. Leaving his room, he decided to skip breakfast, because fuck energy and full stomachs, right?

---

Tord looked out his window, stalking poor Tom. He quietly made snarky comments about Tom's stick-figure body. He could snap Tom in half like a toothpick. Tord had a very complex morning schedule, and this was what it looked like:

6:30 — rise from slumber

7:00 — stalk pussybitch

7:30 — fantasize about kicking pussybitch's tiny nuts

7:40 — write in diary about how fucking dumb pussybitch is

8:00 — wish parents would leave and never come home, because fuck parents with their giving me free food and a roof over my head. What assholes!

8:20 — take a fat shit

8:40 — pray to Gene

9:40 — masturbate

Next, he wanted to masturbate till he came blood, but he didn't make it that far since he heard the sound of a door slamming shut. Dammit, his parents were still alive...

No, it wasn't his parents, it was Pussybitch, and he looked like he got into a fight with a stereotypical bully. His hair looked like it had been tied up, as though someone grabbed it and swung Tom around. His gay clothes were still tight and gross looking. The guy was sweating, like he had taken a huge shit in hot weather.

Tom looked like an office worker who had jumped out the window. It was fucking disgusting, like always. Tord looked smugly at his 'enemy'. Tord threw one of his cum rags at Tom's window. Some sticky fluid remains stuck to the glass pane as the rag fell to the ground. Tom looked at Tord like he was about to commit a murder.

"Heya, Pussybitch."

"Kill yourself."

Tom turn away from Tord, picked up a pillow, and screamed into it. Tord watched in amusement as he played with another used tissue. What a bitch.

"Tom, why are you home? Aren't you supposed to get fucked in the ass in the boys' locker room until three?"

Tom looked like he was about to punch something. "No, I just have anxiety like every other teen on the planet these days. And anxiety, much like a hungry animal, attacks sometimes. I guess you wouldn't know about that, since you stay inside and get molested by your parents all day."

Tord sighed. Of course he had anxiety. Like Tom had said, every teen on the face of this godforsaken earth had anxiety. And depression. More than half the time those mental disorders are self-diagnosed.

"You home alone?" Tord asked.

"Yeah. Why, wanna come over and Netflix and Chill, gay boy?"

"No, just asking. I should've assumed that, because it's not like you have any friends who want to come over. Care for another cum rag?"