Strolling through the Mojave Wasteland unaccompanied as I often do. Not worried about being harassed or raped because I am a man. See group of young, female Khans struggling to set up a folding table. Two strong female Khans have extended the legs and are trying to flip the table upright. I approach them uninvited and say hello. One flees, triggered. "let me help with that girls" I easily flip the table upright with... my masculine +7 Strength. Now upright, I can see the sign taped to the table top. FEMINIST KHAN BAKESALE. I give a low-pitched chuckle with my testosterone privileged vocal cords. "So you girls have been busy in the Culinator 3000 Kitchen System, what did you bake?" One strong Khan stands with a box to rest on the table. Her eyes are welled with tears at the oppression she is suffering. "F-Fancy Lad Snack Cakes" - "I love Fancy Lads, let me see what you have there" I reach my phallic hand over and open the virginal box this poor woman is holding. My male gaze objectifies the Snack Cakes. "Oh those look good. How much?" Another strong Khan woman speaks up, images of Tandi flash in her head. "They're a cap for men because of the corrupt patria--" I stop her short in a textbook case of verbal rape. "That sounds fine. Give me the whole box." I pull out a capitalist Pre-War paper bill with the image of a Pre-War Cis White Male Slaveowner on it. The strong Khan woman before me whimpers in psychic pain as I hand the bill to her, she has been reduced to a slave -- nay -- a commodity. "Thank you" she says meekly, feeling violated. I give a sensual grunt as I bite into one of the sweet, moist Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. "Mmmm... It was my privilege."

Strolling through the Mojave Wasteland unaccompanied as I often do. Not worried about being harassed or raped because I am a man. See group of young, female Khans struggling to set up a folding table. Two strong female Khans have extended the legs and are trying to flip the table upright. I approach them uninvited and say hello. One flees, triggered. "let me help with that girls" I easily flip the table upright with... my masculine +7 Strength. Now upright, I can see the sign taped to the table top. FEMINIST KHAN BAKESALE. I give a low-pitched chuckle with my testosterone privileged vocal cords. "So you girls have been busy in the Culinator 3000 Kitchen System, what did you bake?" One strong Khan stands with a box to rest on the table. Her eyes are welled with tears at the oppression she is suffering. "F-Fancy Lad Snack Cakes" - "I love Fancy Lads, let me see what you have there" I reach my phallic hand over and open the virginal box this poor woman is holding. My male gaze objectifies the Snack Cakes. "Oh those look good. How much?" Another strong Khan woman speaks up, images of Tandi flash in her head. "They're a cap for men because of the corrupt patria--" I stop her short in a textbook case of verbal rape. "That sounds fine. Give me the whole box." I pull out a capitalist Pre-War paper bill with the image of a Pre-War Cis White Male Slaveowner on it. The strong Khan woman before me whimpers in psychic pain as I hand the bill to her, she has been reduced to a slave -- nay -- a commodity. "Thank you" she says meekly, feeling violated. I give a sensual grunt as I bite into one of the sweet, moist Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. "Mmmm... It was my privilege."