Danielle timidly entered her brother's room. She wasn't a big fan of it, since it was always messy, and smelled more than a little musky. She shouldn't have been surprised to see her heavy-set, less-than-showered brother in nothing but dirty boxers and a sweat-tinted white t-shirt. She held her breath as often as she could, but subtly. After all, even if he was a little repulsive, she didn't want to ffend her brother.
Reclined in his expensive gaming chair, he continued to turn from side to side, idly. His hands were folded over his stomach, and he wore a very smug look on his face. "So, you got my text," he said.
Danielle nodded, then let her eyes drift around his messy room. He had posters of scantily clad video game and anime women on his walls, and a large collection of anime figurines, almost all of which were well-endowed female characters, all who looked more than a little... dirty, for some reason. The girl furrowed her brows, then returned her attention to Greg. "I did. Did you need something?"
"Let me answer your question with one of my own," he replied. He stopped turning in his chair, and sat up slightly. He snorted loud and lock, then hocked and turned his head to spit. Danielle winced, surprised to see him spit indoors. He was really developing some gross habits. "What do you think your purpose in life is?"
The girl paused. She expected that his text had been some kind of precursor to a simple demand. "Make me a sandwich" was a common one she'd heard before. What she hadn't expected was for a deep or existential sort of discussion. She hesitated to find a good answer to his query.
"I guess..." she started, hesitantly, uncertain of her answer. "I've never thought of it."
"Would you like to know the answer?" Greg asked, smirking a bit at her. When she stood there, hedging, not offering a reply, he sighed heavily. "Well, lucky for you I figured that out for you. You should thank me, you know. I don't expect cunts to think very often. That's not your evolutionary purpose. So I did it for you."
Greg rose slowly from his seat with great difficulty. He was a terribly fat man. Even his large chair had a hard time letting go of his swollen hips, pinched between the arms of the chair. A terrible smell wafted from the chair when he stood. He positioned himself behind the chair and gestured for Danielle to sit. "Sit," he demanded. "I'm going to show you."
Furrowing her brows in concern, Danielle hesitated, but ultimately obeyed. Of course she did. She always did, even if she was having to fight down some revulsion. In his giant-sized chair, she looked hilariously tiny. When she was sat, he turned the chair so that it was facing one of his computer monitors. He leaned over and seized the mouse, then clicked about from post to post. "I wrote about it. I want you to read it."
Danielle looked up at Greg, then again returned her attention to his computer monitor. She noticed the little icon in the upper left of the page that indicated this was the forum where the redpillers, incels, MRAs, and MGTOW sorts of men gathered and discussed their ideologies and fantasies. Greg navigated to a subforum with clear NSFW warnings, and then on a top rated post by a poster named GodGreg. Clearly... that was him.
He straightened again, and kept his gaze fixed on Danielle as she began to read the thread he authored.
The girl's eyes widened. What did "GodGreg" write about?
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