I was in the bathroom one day just before class. I whipped my comb out of my pocket and smoothed back the rebellious locks near my forehead. I winked an eye at my reflection and walked out.
“Brad Roten!” I heard a high pitched, horny squeal call. I looked over my shoulder at the girl coming out of the bathroom. She was cute enough. I could tell by the way her breasts were small and her shapeliness undeveloped that she’d been sterilized – a good night on the town.
I clicked my fingers. “How’s it goin,’ little girl?”
“Your genes are fortunate they got to live in your body.”
I kissed my biceps. “Want to take a little ride?”
“You bet -”