LipThick series (Bimbo Transformations)

The video is titled "CHOCOLATE MILK HOOKUP? | Tuesdays with Tyrone Feb 12 2016".

The young man who walks into view of the camera. He's African-American, with his dreadlocks concealed under a pristine Redwings baseball cap. His tank top is emblazoned in the home colors of the Boston Celtics, and his shorts are official branded Bengals merchandise.

He sits down, stares at the camera for a second, then grabs a bottle of Yoohoo off the desk, puts it to his lips, and chugs it all down in one go.

He sets the empty bottle down on the desk and looks at the camera. "Wow."

After the title card, he passes his hand over his face, his trim little goatee.

"You saw the title, right?" He makes a circular gesture with his hands. "But I can't just get into it, I need to set up some backstory, a'aight?"

He flexes his muscled arms. "So, I was at a birthday party. Ate some little Buffalo wings, watched Alex247 fall off a hoverboard into a pool, wreck her new phone-" He points at thin air. "-Click here for her video, when she posts it. Decided I had too much to drink, handed over my keys, and called an Uber."

He shifts in his seat.

"And then I realize that I want to get my choc'late milk on."

He flicks a finger at the bottle.

"I tell the driver to swing by my favorite store, I go in, and it's not my regular guy, who've always like-"

He waves at someone off-camera.

"'Hey, Ty!' And I'm always like-"

A dignified nod.

"'Sup.' Anyway, the cashier is, like, some Middle-Eastern dude. Probably got a wife and kids. And here's me, a black guy in his store at-"

He theatrically looks at his watch, which goes from a black G-Shock to a pink, plastic bangle as he lowers his arm.

"I don't know, 12:30? Brotha's gotta have his Yoohoo. He's not the regular guy, I'm not here at my usual time, so I pull back my hood and walk to the cooler."

He thrusts his chest up, straightens his back, and adopts the voice of Authority. "Keep your hands in view at all times!"

His voice cracks a little, and his chest, as he slumps, looks a little rounder than it did at the start of the vlog.

"Anyway, I bring it to the counter, and the man gives me my change, and I turn around and, blam! I nearly run into this girl behind me."

He rubs his chin.

"This girl, man. This girl. She was like-" he frowns "-like..."

Apparently finding words inadequate, he pushes back his chair and stands, making an evocative gesture indicating generous curves. His own waist seems more narrow, his hips wider, his shorts shorter. Even his tank top now shows his softening stomach.

"Yeah, like that. She gives me a look like-"

He narrows his eyes, paints a predatory smile on his face, and nods, looking an imaginary himself up and down. His long eyelashes flutter shade his eyes.

"Y'know what I'm sayin'?"

He sits back down in the chair, and seems to have difficulty getting past the armrest. With a little wiggling, he manages.

"So she walks past me, and points at the condoms, pays cash. Then turns back to me with that smile on my face. On her face, I mean. She waves the packet like-"

He makes the sort of gesture one would associate with someone shaking a sugar sachet.

"-And raised an eyebrow, and I'm like -"

He puts a pensive hand under his chin. At which point in the video, many viewers first noted his absence of facial hair.

"Hmm. Now, I've got a decision to make. Common sense says that this is a little fishy. But another part of me was paying a lot of attention when she leaned over the counter, and that's going-"

A shrug. His shoulders have lost their toned look, visibly growing softer as the audience watched.

"Why not?"

He adjusts his tank top. The Redwings logo on his hat has faded, and writing is fading in on the now plain white tee. He cups his chest as it swells, and continues narrating.

"So I follow her out to the alley, text the driver that I'll be a few minutes, and just when I hit Send, she's like-"

He stands up again, and pulls imaginary pants down. His actual pants, by this point, are more along the lines of hot pants, in a lurid tiger-stripe print, and barely seem to contain his wide hips, his thick thighs. The pudge at his stomach is just barely noticeable.

"Omnomnom!"

He mimes wrapping his lips around a large, round, imaginary object.

"I'm not even making this up!" He throws his arms up, setting his chest jiggling. "All she said was 'hungry', and she was on me!"

He scratches his forehead. His headgear, like his shirt, has faded, but to pink. Little shiny bumps start to push out of the fabric.

"Guess she didn't want to use the condom. Guess she was thirsty."

A sort of half-smile on his face as he sits. He licks his lips, which remain shiny.

"So she finishes, and I'm like-" his voices pitches higher and doesn't come down "-what just happened, and she just smiles and walks off. I have some napkins in

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