Sweat rolled down from his forehead, becoming entangled in the thick, matted hair that jutted awkwardly from his jaw, eventually escaping only to become lost once again in the heavy folds that formed what could generously be called his neck. He reached a pizza grease-stained hand up to his forehead, shaky with anticipation, and wiped some of the sweat away, though an outside observer would never be able to tell the difference. He swallowed the last bit of Cheeto that had been tumbling around in his mouth like a man on a rowboat during a monsoon as he withdrew his hand from his forehead and wiped it aggressively against his already heavily-stained shirt.

Being generous, one could describe his breathing as shallow, but it was anything but. In order for any air whatsoever to even reach his lungs, he had to take deep breaths. The man’s… voluptuous curves made it difficult for anything to get inside him that wasn’t a pizza bagel, or Mountain Dew. And yet, somehow he had made it work. Perhaps he was more capable than he thought of physical activity. He’d always told his doctor as much, so why couldn’t it be true. As he always told himself, as long as you tell yourself something enough, eventually it has to be true. It was Newton’s third law. That or it was Asimov’s third law of robotics. One or the other, he could never remember.

The point being that whether it be through his clear physical prowess, or through some act of lust or greed, or perhaps even an ill-timed bargaining with god (Celestia, of course), he had finished the deed. And as a greasy smile worked its way across his powdered donut-encrusted face, he knew that he had done something great here today. His heart was beating even faster than normal as he became giddy with excitement, ready to tell his RP buddies all about his experience. He grinned like a hog in mud. They would be so jealous once they heard what he’d bought and what he’d done. Now it was just a matter of cleaning up before—

Knock. Knock.

His head whipped around towards the door. It was hard to see in the darkened room, but he still knew where the sound was coming from. Now fear sweat was mixing with his exertion sweat and meat sweat to form a big pool of sweat in the folds of his stomach. His mind raced, and as he heard another knock, he quickly shouted, “Mom, go away! I’m… playing Destiny with my friends!”

Even through the door he could hear her sigh, the same sigh that he heard from her everyday when she came into his room to take the bedpan away. He rolled his eyes. At least she was leaving, and now he could return to his soulmate.

In the dim light that filtered through the slightly open curtains he could see her as he looked down. She lay on her back, her arms spread wide, waiting for his embrace. She was covered in sweat and Cheeto dust, but she was just as beautiful as the day she’d arrived in the mail. He smiled, reaching a hand out to brush against her cheek. It felt just like a pillow, and that was probably because it was a pillow, but who was he to judge. He knelt down next to her and whispered into her downy ear, “I love you… Scootaloo.”