He flops into his faithful recliner, full from his second huge meal of the day. Stripped to his birthday suit, he grabs the remote and pushes “Play.”
The naked couple on screen begin their frantic encounter.
Part of him begins to show life, much to his chagrin.
When the tape has ended, he hefts his 350 pound bulk through the voluminous stacks of porn to the bathroom. His eyes close and he commences his hourly act of self-pleasure.
A minute later, the act complete, he reaches for a towl to wipe the sexual sweat from his brow. Glancing in the mirror, he notices a pimple trying to rear its ugly head. Filled with rage and self-loathing, he smashes his fist into the looking glass over and over.
Exhausted and panting, tears stream down his face as he wishes for beauty. But the feeling is fleeting, as it always is.
He knows he is attractive. After all, he is highly sought after to model men’s clothing.
Laughter worms its way along his crowded hallway as he makes his way to the kitchen for another meal.