After the novelty of fucking whores regularly wore off, porn began to consume Brandon. While he might've been the one fucking, was essentially he the fucked one? Dignity, a fading memory. This was about primal, heavy stuff - like branded corn flakes and the better meth further down the park.
It took a while and dawned on him: If he wasn't a used man, would he have what it takes to use others; men, women - everyone? He didn't think of it for a while and saw an ad of a modeling agency in some paper he used to protect his glass pipe.
Attractive wages, flexible working hours. He could really use that. To the phone he walked.