Infidelity Inspector

The morning sun peeked through the worn curtains of George's dingy studio apartment, casting feeble rays across his bloated frame. The sheets clung to his sweaty body as he stirred from a deep slumber, his mind still hazy from the remnants of an unsettling dream.

As George peeled himself from the soiled bedding, an odd sensation washed over him – a peculiar tingling that seemed to emanate from deep within his core. It was then that the knowledge of his newfound Class flooded into his consciousness, as if the universe had bestowed upon him a perverse gift.

George was now an Infidelity Inspector, a role shrouded in mystery and bearing a sinister allure. With trembling hands, he retrieved the tattered manual that had manifested beside his bed, its pages filled with intricate details on the ways to evaluate a woman's potential for infidelity.

His beady eyes scanned the text with ravenous curiosity, drinking in every intimate detail of the methods at his disposal. From analyzing the slightest inflections in speech to detecting the faintest traces of pheromones, George found himself armed with an arsenal of tools to unravel the deepest secrets of the fairer sex.

A twisted grin crept across his greasy features as he read about the various reasons that could drive a woman to stray – an unfulfilling intimate life often being the catalyst. George's mind raced with visions of himself as the arbiter of passion, the one who could peer into the very souls of these unfaithful creatures and expose their carnal desires.

Clad in a stained undershirt and tattered boxers, George lumbered towards the bathroom, his hefty frame jiggling with each step. As he caught a glimpse of his repulsive reflection in the cracked mirror, a newfound confidence surged through his veins. He was no longer a mere loser, destined to wallow in the shadows of society. He was an Infidelity Inspector, and the world of secrets lay before him, ripe for the plundering.

With a depraved chuckle, George began to prepare himself for his inaugural inspection, his every movement fueled by a twisted sense of purpose. The game was afoot, and he intended to play by his own sordid rules.