Ramen, soda, and porn.

You continue with your typical weekend routine: a big bowl of instant ramen, a glass of 7-Up, and the Penthouse channel on TV. Not that you pay for it, of course; you got yourself hooked up with pirated satellite TV a few years back. Your mom wasn’t thrilled about being an accessory to signal theft, but changed her tune once you showed her the hundred or so channels you were pulling in, gratis. After you graduated from high school, this routine just became What You Do (tm) on Sundays. Maybe it's because all the raw, primal sex on the screen lets you drift off and ignore the fact that you have to go back to that school tomorrow.

You really loathe that place. You always have, and not just that particular school; you haven't liked going to school ever since first grade. You had a particularly nasty teacher then, Mrs. Bloch, who was utterly convinced that you were supposed to be some sort of wunderkind, and excel at every single thing you did. But the simple fact was that, despite your apparent brilliance with computers, and your far-above-grade-level reading ability, you struggled in so many other things, things that came easily to the other kids. You were disorganized and forgetful, losing things constantly and forgetting to do homework. You could grasp algorithms in a flash, but had trouble memorizing facts. And she made sure to let you know how disappointed she was, every single time you failed.

Kids that age are, of course, quite impressionable, and seeing Mrs. Bloch berating you over and over, they naturally started doing the same. That's basically when the spiral started: they teased you, you got more withdrawn, anxious and awkward, they teased you more as a result, you withdrew even more, et cetera.

Despite understanding nearly all the material taught in class, your depression resulted in you forgetting assignments and failing to study, causing your grades to suffer. And then came your ridiculously strong libido, only compounding the problem. When you didn't make it into any colleges, it only made things worse, crushing your already-low self-esteem — plus it meant remaining in your small town, going to school with many of the same group of students you’ve known for the past twelve years.

In reality, most of the kids grew out of that teasing phase early on, and now view you mostly with indifference; the real **** only comes from a handful of sadistic assholes... and yourself, having internalized so much of that ridicule and rejection over the years. You're trying to get past it, to silence those demons, but it's been difficult... now, though, you've been given a new tool to help. Maybe the combined forces of your overpowered sex drive and the Manipulator can start to change things.

Meanwhile, on the TV, a threesome of huge-titted lipstick lesbians moan and eat out each other’s pussies. Must-See TV, you think. It's odd, but your mom has never given you grief for sitting there and watching porn in the living room, as long as you keep the volume low, and (of course) shut it off when anybody comes by. She's usually so straight-laced, so the fact that the allows this baffles you -- but usually you pay it no mind. You have a good thing going here, why would you do anything that might jeopardize it?

Still, you think, yawning, it's strange. Maybe there's more of an enigma hiding inside her after all... With those thoughts echoing through your mind, you close your eyes, just for a second.