I was sitting at home, holding my head in my hands. The doctor had just diagnosed me with feminitis. He found my masculinity levels to be at a terminally low level. I lost hope on growing facial hair ever again. I was eating cartons of raw eggs every morning in hopes to bring back my glory, but alas, it was long gone. In a desperate attempt to regain my spirits, I browsed Steam to hopefully find a game to numb the wound. Then, Max Gentlemen appeared. It was everything I hoped it would be. I stacked hats for hours on end, reminiscing about my manly buffness. Surely I would never again have as much testosterone as Max Gentlemen did. After I unlocked all the hats and all of the characters, and my credit cards were maxed out, I stopped playing. I had lost sleep from playing Max Gentlemen for so long. I moved my eyes for the first time in days to look down from my desk. I lifted up my shirt and saw the most glorious and extravagantly hardened six-pack I had ever seen. I was holding a pint of root beer in my hand. I looked up. Hats that touched the ceiling were placed atop my head. Slowly, I contracted my elbow to stroke my lip. I felt a moustache.
Dreams really do come true.