GROCERY PRICING
Welcome to The Cut: A grocery unlike any other. For bodies unlike any other.
Behind unmarked glass in the city’s cleanest corner, there exists a members-only marketplace known simply as The Cut. No signs. No public listings. Just toned bodies, low lighting, and the scent of eucalyptus and protein powder hanging in the air.
Membership isn’t bought. It’s earned. Achieved only through relentless dedication, a flawless physique, and an annual screening more intense than most competitions. Those who pass are welcomed into this curated paradise—where food is clean, prices are low, and every product supports the pursuit of physical perfection.
This morning, one of The Cut’s top-tier members steps inside. His shirt, a tight blue Under Armour compression tee, hugs every ridge of his torso, his biceps swollen like they’re mid-pump. He navigates the aisles like he’s done it a hundred times—protein-packed salads, ripe bananas, electrolyte water cold to the touch. He barely glances at the labels; he already knows them by heart.
He arrives at checkout, phone in hand—not for scrolling, but payment. Behind him, another member approaches the next register. This one’s wearing a white singlet, stretched tight across thick pecs and a tapered waist. His skin glows under the fluorescent lights, sweat-slicked from a recent lift. Their eyes meet, briefly. There’s no need for words—just a knowing look.
The man in white chooses Kind.
At checkout, he doesn’t reach for a wallet. Instead, he pulls out his phone—one of two accepted forms of payment. The other? Known only to select members who choose to pay "in kind."
Behind the staff counter is a hallway that leads to a small, unmarked room. Discreet. Sterile. A place there is a chair with a 10-inch dildo mounted on it. he places his phone in front of the chair, opens the video. He gets naked, sits on the dildo, fucking his ass with it until he cums. He shoots his cum on a bucket which was already half full from previous grocery members. The semen is used to create high protein cookies being sold in the store.
Later, he returns—shirt clinging tighter now. There’s a faint flush to his skin. He picks up his phone from the counter, shows the staff a brief clip. Approval is silent but immediate. His basket is cleared.
Here at The Cut, your body isn’t just admired.
It’s accepted. Rewarded.
Worshipped.
And sometimes... it pays for your groceries.
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