Go over to a guy sitting by himself

John's eyes locked onto a solitary figure hunched over in a corner booth, nursing what looked like a watered-down drink. The man's gaze was glued to his phone screen, scrolling through what John assumed was an endless feed of beautiful, untouchable women. He felt a pang of pity for the guy, but he knew he had to tread carefully. These men were likely to be the most disillusioned by the town's dark secrets.

John made his way over to the lonely man, sliding into the booth across from him. The man looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. He was younger than John had expected, probably in his mid-twenties, with a scruffy beard and a hoodie pulled up over his head. He looked like he hadn't seen the light of day in weeks.

"Mind if I sit down?" John asked, his voice low and friendly.

The lonely man grunted a response, not taking his eyes off his phone. John took this as an invitation and slid into the booth across from him. He leaned in slightly, trying to make eye contact. "I'm looking for someone who might be able to help me understand what's going on around here. Have you noticed anything... unusual about the women in town?"

"Ummm. Yeah." The man finally looked up, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the harsher light of John's presence. "They're all sluts, man. They don't care about us. They just want the alphas to fill them up with their cum." The bitterness in his voice was palpable, his words slurred slightly from the drink.

John nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "I've noticed that too," he said, leaning in closer. "But have you seen anything... specific? Like, maybe someone or something that's been influencing them?"

The lonely guy took a swig of his drink before setting it down with a thunk. He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied John. "You're not one of them, are you?" he asked, his voice a mix of accusation and hope.

John held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just a traveler passing through, trying to make sense of what's happening. I've noticed the same things you have. It's like there's some kind of spell over the women here."

The lonely man leaned in, his breath reeking of cheap liquor. "Spell?" He snorted. "More like a curse. They're all whores for the highest bidder. Nothing but plastic bitches with their heads stuck in the clouds."

"I don't know about that. My stepsister Janice, she's been acting more open to me. Wanting to fuck me. Even though we use to have a small sibling rivalry. I think she's under some kind of... influence. She been so perky and happy, and open." John said.

The lonely guy's eyes widened. "Your stepsister? Fuck, that's messed up. But, you know, I've heard some weird shit about a new guy in town. Goes by the name of 'Mr. Big'. He's got all the chicks swooning. They say he's got some kind of charm that makes them want to do whatever he says."

This could be another lead, John thought, his interest piqued. "Mr. Big, huh? What else have you heard about him?"

The lonely man shrugged. "Just whispers, really. He throws parties, gives out these... enhancements. Stuff to make the girls look like porn stars. They say it makes them irresistible to men. And the worst part? They all seem to love it. But there something that hurting us too. We should be able to fuck them too, but we are too much of betas now. It like there's an aphrodisiac."

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