In the beginning, a long time ago (15 years to be exact), Bob was born.
He was a fairly cool guy, and able to do cool stuff, he wasn't fully OP but was still pretty good.
His main plan was to Dominate the World.
Of course, by world, he actually meant any consenting person over the legal age of 18
He once read in his science textbook that the goal of all living things was to reproduce.
Accordingly, that day, he became enlightened.
Of course! From that day forth, he devised a plan.
He studied deeply into methods to cryogenically preserve his seed, and he would fill the world with innumerable Bob and Bobette Jnrs.
A man on a mission, he also began to study the arts of rizz, maxing out his rizz stat until he was able to convince someone to buy the shirt off his own back, and moreover, considered Bob an angel for giving him the opportunity.
If an ordinary human's natural rizz stat was at 10 points, Bob's was in the 1000s.
His goal was clear. He would flood the world and become a resounding genetic success.
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Of course, the world is not so simple.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and so the moment Bob had his epiphany and became mad, uh enlightened, on the other side of the world, a woman also awoke.
Her name was…
Sally.
Sally was different. When people told her a hilarious joke, she wouldn't even give a hint of a smile.
In fact, she was one in a 100000000009000468 (basically a huge number that no one will ever bother to count cos it's not that important but basically a lot )
having been born with an anti-rizz index of -10000000.
This would have been fine, except that like a disease, her anti rizz index was contagious.
Attaining a reputation as an Ice Queen, she soon became, as is often the case, paradoxically, extremely popular.
Jill, one of the other girls at school had this to say:
"It's so bizarre. Most of the girls are kind, and helpful, but they become part of the outcasts, you know?! But Sally, the Ice Queen, to be frank, she's a total b****, though you didn't hear me say that, it's just something I heard from Jacinta… anyway, just cos her parents are like megaaaaa rich and she was born with the looks of Miss Multiverse… anyway
*glancing around* uh I've said too much. You promised protection right?! Right?!"
At this point the police officers gulped, protection was something they just said, but they had all watched the movies, and protection didn't mean sh**.
If Ice Queen Sally wanted you dead, there was little they could do.
Inspector Ross stopped recording, placed the cameras SD card in a sealed ziplock bag and into a safe.
Time: 4:17pm he muttered. We finally got recorded evidence. Something's not right in Moreton High. But we finally got the evidence.
He turned to his men, who stood at attention by the triple reinforced titanium carbon alloy safe.
Comboing a combination, he bagged the bag into the bowels of the safe, and shut it with a clang!
He turned his bloodshot eyes to his men and whispered hoarsely:
"Guard this with your lives."
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They say ignorance is bliss.
Meanwhile Bob was blissfully unaware of the anti-rizz outbreak in Moreton High, and was solely dedicated to making himself into a veritable Cassanovian Gigachad, though he was still far off, as we said earlier, he wasn't OP, though he wasn't terrible either.
At this point, though he could do 109 pushups 89 sit-ups and 102 squats in one go, he quickly realized that superficial rizz was just a small part of the game and not even the most important part.
The key was communication and connection, he needed to master the art of connecting with his mind, only then could he connect with his c***.
Frowning, he worked on his sit-ups. After an intense training session, he improved his PB to 91!!!
Balance. That was the key. His goal was to have his push-up, sit-up and squat index improve not just in number, but also with a uniform spread.
He began recording himself obsessively, ensuring his smile, tone inflection, body language were all improving.
At the same time, his cryogenic research via Googlé (pronounced Googlei) had begun to pay off.
Wet dreams and the like were an absolute waste of valuable resources. With cryogenic storage, he could make his baby batter, matter, for longer.
As such, he took to wearing a device when he slept on his member, and in the event there were any secretions, it would siphon the contents into the cryogenic storage chamber beside his bed (which looked suspiciously like a minibar fridge) for future use.
Excellent, he thought to himself. His plans were coming along.