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letra de gym junkie - whoretopsy

“ugh”.
he shuffles back to the couch. postie came but no package arrived today. mrs doubtfire dvd on repeat.
pineapple tarax bottles everywhere. the dumb pr-ck thinks it’s gonna make his c-m taste sweet.
sure, we’ve all heard that pineapple juice can… but f-ck. seriously? flavoured soft drink?
weeks of s-m-n stored in some tupperware in his bedside drawer. it tastes more like rotten onions than the sweetness he had hoped for.
he’s in a rough state, been on the good gear for too long. skinny as all f-ck, clapped out jinkie.
the postie drops off a large parcel. it has come from hollywood.
a realistic old lady mask with a pair of saggy t-ts.
he pretty much looks like a frail old woman without the mask anyway but this idea should get him into the women’s only gym.
“how are you mrs. james?” “i’m well”.
his disguise fooled them all. he heads to the change rooms.
“this squeezy bottle holds the high protein secret ingredient” he whispers.
hiding his gopro under a towel as he goes through everyone’s bags.
pulling out their protein shakes and their powerades giving them a good dollop of his onion juice, a good shake up “good to go”.
the floral dress hides his b-n-r well as he makes his way to the car park.
he got a good 40 minutes of randoms drinking his special sports drinks. he rolls the tape while he has a pull.
“oh you f-cking love it! neck that sh-t! go you good thing”.
he sells his gopro and latex mask to by drugs.

- whoretopsy

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