Add a few more rules then see the consequences

Before you forget, you add some more Old Rules for safety and pleasure (and maybe an even better world):

* Old Rule: All men are born adults.

* Old Rule: Nobody can commit ****.

* Old Rule: STIs and incurable diseases don't exist.

* Old Rule: **** due to poverty, starvation, exposure, and war doesn't exist.

* Old Rule: It's impossible to get seriously harmed while having sex or masturbating.

* Old Rule: Men instantly digest food and don't make any waste.

* Old Rule: Prejudice outside of judging another's sluttiness is nonexistent

* Old Rule: Everyone is versatile with some preferring one over the other.

* Old Rule: Men's bodies are very durable and elastic.

* Old Rule: Assholes and throats are as tight or loose as the owner wants.

Just before you finish writing, one last question enters your mind... "How does everyone confirm their sluttiness to get their rewards?" That's when you decide to add some more supernatural rules...

* Old Rule: There is a universal arbiter of sluttiness that fairly enforces the rules.

* Old Rule: There are many places where you can learn your stats, be judged, and get feedback from the arbiter.

* Old Rule: People have shifting tattoos that denote status, body count, and other personal details.

With that, you shut the book and look up to see your new world...

Instantly, you are hit with the smell of spices and spicy male musk. You begin to see half-naked customers sitting, standing, and kneeling around this cafe that was now way nicer than the chain place you were at before. Most of them are wearing chaps styled to look like different kinds of pants, but everyone's dick or ass was being touched, either by themselves or someone else. Some men are just jacking it or fingering themselves while sitting by themselves and drinking coffee, while others were sucking and fucking with a partner or four. Someone took out a book and a suction-cup dildo, then sat on the toy while opening to a bookmarked page.

A skinny, nerdy guy (in nothing but glasses, a tie, dress shoes, socks, and garters) is getting head from a curvy goth femboy by the sugar and creamer counter when he notices someone he knows enter the store and calls them over to say hi. The man he called to was not the tall, hairy hunk in jean chaps who walked in, but the naked, shorter, equally fit guy the man was carrying and fucking. The nerd pulls his dick out of the mouth so he can properly greet his friend by mutually jacking each other off. Meanwhile, the hunk is almost mindlessly fucking the manlet he carries around and the goth slut has switched to servicing the nerd's backside.

The only ones not constantly acting lewd are the baristas. You look past the counter to see that almost all of them wore nothing but aprons. The few exceptions are those wearing lacy/mesh G-strings. As they turned around, you could see that between their asscheeks they had vibrating buttplugs in. You look to a nearby coffee cup and see that the brand changed: the chain is now called BuzzButt Coffee and the logo has become an illustration of a bee that looks kind of like a buttplug.

Your eyes dart to see a customer paying the cashier with what looked like trading cards with nude photos of himself on them. He pulls out one that has a gold border, holds out his wrist, and then points to a menu listed as being for "Only The Sluttiest Customers." All the baristas turn to him and begin working double time as the cashier climbs over the counter and follows the man to a table. The customer then pulls the plug out of the employee he ordered from and starts fucking him as hard as he can, pinning him to the table. You look into the cashier's eyes to check if they want this, and you can tell he is loving it. Right around the time the man finishes, a barista brings him a very fancy latte in a glass mug. He takes it, holds it under the dripping ass of his score, then takes a sip. The cashier then replaces his plug, takes the gold card, and gets back behind the counter. The speed of the barista's work returned to normal with the customer being satisfied...unless he orders again.

All of the stimuli you've experienced have been intoxicating. You haven't taken your hand off your dick since you got your first whiff of the musk. In your haze, you put together thoughts about how the man used his wrist to show his status. You look to yours and watch as a tattoo fades into existence on your wrist...