Why Can'T I Top Up My Steam Wallet?

"I'm gay." My eyes grow so big as I stop breathing, but two seconds later I'm bursting with laughter. "Okay funny," I finally tone down my laugh as I bring myself to look at him again. But he is still staring at me like he had been when he told me that joke. "Wait," uhh, "Really?" He nods, "Really." "You like... guys?" "I fuck guys." Oh wow, you really can't have it all can you. When he checks all the boxes, suddenly there's this big box he doesn't. The most important box, the top on the list. "You're gay or bi?" Because there's a big difference between those two. "I'm gay." "You never fuck a woman?" "I've never fucked a woman." "Then why the hell would you want me to be your sugar baby? To watch you fuck another man's butthole?" He smirks despite my little mockery. "Oh now it's funny?" "It is," he is still smirking, "But no. It's the opposite of what I wanna do." I bring my arms across my chest as I reply in my all-business tone, "Enlighten me." *** 22 year old Estelle is one of the best sugar babies the agency has ever had. She has the whole package, no dick ever gone soft seeing how perfect she is, both her body and personality. But can she sway Owen into the heterosexual group? After being in that homo-pool all this while?

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

Marlene Cole, who has always been a reliable nanny, has called me three times in a row out of panic today. "I got bad news for you, Mr. Spence! The security guard of the kindergarten refuses to let Erin into the kindergarten! "He claims that the name on the student ID is wrong! The ID belongs to a little girl named Jodie! It's not Erin's ID at all!" I look up from the spreadsheet I'm holding, a frown already gracing my features. "Marlene, wasn't Harper the one who gave you the ID last night?" Marlene sounds like she's about to burst into tears from panic. "She did! But the scanner shows that Jodie Holmes is the ID owner! The security guard says that we've gotten the wrong ID, so now he's interrogating me!" That's odd. Half a year ago, I've pulled a few strings just so I can enroll my daughter, Erin Spence, into Starry Kindergarten, known as the most prestigious kindergarten in the city. In fact, I have to sponsor the kindergarten 300 thousand dollars in order to secure a slot for Erin. Over the month, my wife, Harper Gilmore, has always been the one driving Erin to school every day. Today, Harper claims that she can't take Erin to school because she needs to pull overtime shifts at her company, so she has instructed Marlene to do so. But how is it possible that Erin's student ID now shows another name when it's Marlene's turn to take her to the kindergarten?

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

On the day I won the national esports championship, my girlfriend of eight years told me she wanted to go on stage and personally present me with flowers. Standing on the podium, my heart was racing. I reached into my pocket to pull out the ring I'd hidden there, ready to propose to her in front of the entire nation. But what happened next shocked me. She giggled and, instead of handing me the bouquet, she gave it to her male best friend. Under the bright lights, they became the center of attention. The crowd cheered, and their congratulatory messages flooded the trending topics. Even his fans tagged me in posts, mocking, [I told you not to get in the way of our couple, now look at you.] I simply posted on Twitter, [Respect and blessings. Please be locked together forever.]

I enjoyed playing scratch-off tickets. I felt restless if I did not scratch one for a single day. After becoming familiar with the shop owner, I always scratched first and paid later. One day, the scratch-off ticket I took revealed a million-dollar prize. The shop attendant, Chloe Byrne, snatched the ticket from my hand. “You never paid for this scratch-off ticket! Taking it without asking makes you a thief! But look, I’m in a good mood right now, so I can’t be bothered to argue with you. Just get out of here.” Her straight-up robbery act nearly made me laugh. “I scratched this ticket! You saw the big prize and decided to claim it as your own. That makes you the real thief.” Chloe was shameless and would not back down. “I don’t care who’s a thief or not. This ticket is mine, and nobody’s taking it from me!” Seeing her like that, I made a call. “Lucky Mart on Spring Street has been stealing customers’ winning tickets and refusing to pay. Revoke their license effective today.”