Beautiful Words

Apodyopsis

Noun- the act of mentally undressing someone.

From the time one is a child, one sees people on display. On the front of magazines sold nearly everywhere, one can see beautiful individuals dressed in the most luxurious clothing, posed in the most seductive poses just for the buyer. One can see heavy breasted women in tight fitting clothing, bending forward so that more of her bosom is visible. Men stand without their shirts on, posed with their muscles flexed, the most mischievous smile playing on their handsome faces. They're there to act as a simple charm, to make one convinced to buy the magazine in hopes of seeing more attractive, gorgeous people in an array of position, all of which are meant to please the audience.

And then, they get tossed aside like trash from a fast moving vehicle on the interstate. Once they gain a visible stretch mark or some other sort of visible flaw, they're immediately discarded, replaced by a younger, new person. If they don't fade away from the attention of the media, they're fat-shamed, with the most cruel and vile nicknames to accompany that. So many negative articles come out that one feels as though they shouldn't pay any attention to the old model, but rather to the heavily breasted new girl who has the most beautiful smile or the even more muscled man with better hair. In a couple months, the new model will begin to fade, their beauty tainted in some way.

Magazines issued from sex industries are no different. They glamour up their workers, putting them in overly sexualized outfits and lingerie. Those workers are ordered to pose in a variety of sexual poses, all to keep the industry's fan base now. The props used are too glamours, too ridiculous, but it's all for the same exact reason- to feed the sexual desire and want of their customers. Some industries even made videos or allowed the rich customers to have intimate cessions with their most fresh, pinned after individuals.

"Blaise, what the hell is that?" Draco sneered at the simple black magazine with the words 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 written on it in a bold shade of pink.

"A gift," said Blaise in an innocent tone. Dark coffee colored eyes stared intensely at Draco, as if he'd be able to read her reaction like one reads a book. His tone was rather prideful, as if he knew that she was going to like the gift he'd gotten her.

"What is it?" Draco questioned in a snotty tone, cocking one of her perfectly waxed blonde eyebrows. "What the hell did you buy me?"

"A gift," repeated Blaise in a tone of fact annoyance. "You're a stuck up lesbian."

"And you're a horny bastard," murmured Draco loudly enough that Blaise heard her. Draco took a seat on the pure white couch, sighing as she did such.

"See, we both have valid point," said Blaise, nudging Draco's side playfully. "And I know you haven't got laid since your breakup with Pansy. I got a little something so you could have a bit of fun." Blaise winked at her.

"Blaise, you're a horny pervert, just encase you didn't know," said Draco, rolling her eyes as she began to lay down on the couch. Her baby blue silk dress slid up her legs, showing off more of her pale skin. She crossed her legs, a habit that she'd formed when she was younger.

"Oh darling, you're telling me what I already know." Blaise shifted on the couch. "I'm gonna take my leave. I bought me one too. I'm going to have a good, good night."

"Get the hell out of my home," said Draco, nearly kicking Blaise as he got off the couch. "You disgusting, horny bastard."

Blaise grabbed his coat off the golden coatrack Draco had bought a while back and put it on before putting on his black dress shoes. "You're going to have a fun night too! Although, with those nails, maybe not."

"I told you to take your leave," said Draco irritably.

"Fine," said Blaise, opening her penthouse door and pulling it closed behind him. He lived just across the hall from her, so he'd probably be back over tomorrow, knowing that horny man. He dropped by at the most random, inconvenient times ever, although Draco guess it was a part of knowing each other for since they were learning to talk.

Draco's fingers gripped the magazine, surprised to find that anything more than a name and a scanning label. She flipped to the first page, finding the words Harriet Potter written again. She was getting aggravated. If Blaise wanted to annoy her, he could have just stayed. What was the purpose of buying an annoying gift? And then she flipped to the second page.

A beautiful woman was sitting on the white and black tiled floor. Her raven black hair was pulled into a ponytail by a bright blue ribbon, which looked ridiculous childish on her. Her eyes were the most bright, beautiful shade of emerald green that Draco had ever seen. A skimpy, lace white bra barely covered her breasts, which looked way too large to be real. Her stomach was much too thin, almost to the point that Draco would have been afraid to touch her had she been present. Tight white lace thongs barely covered her womanhood, but Draco guessed that was the purpose. The tan skin of her thighs had but a stretch mark, not even so much as an uneven tan. Her feet were angled away from the camera, hiding the soft skin of her foot.

"How the hell does she have boobs like that and not break her spine?" muttered Draco questioningly.

And Draco knew it was wrong, but she pictured the woman completely naked, which wasn't exactly hard considering how little clothing she did have on. Draco imagined unclasping Harriet's bra, letting it hit the floor. She imagined Harriet's thongs hitting the floor.

She had such smooth looking tan skin, almost as smooth as a babies- given, it could have been photoshop, but still. Draco could only imagine how- no, it was time to stop write there.

Draco closed the magazine and put it back on the table, but she couldn't stop herself from mentally undressing Harriet Potter. And those thoughts stayed with her for quite a while.

Now, the industry will seemingly never end. It seems as though there will always be people on display on magazines fronts, just waiting to be picked up and obsessed over. It seems as though there will always be these magazines, with their main stars being called whores by society- a fact that will be seemingly forgotten when people are getting off to their photos.

And so the industry thrives.

~

Hi. So if you couldn't tell, the mentally undressing scene was hard for me to write. My thought train just isn't like that. If I walked in my room and saw a nearly nude person, I'd probably call the cops or as them if they'd like a blanket and to watch Netflix with me- which one I do would depend.

So sorry if this was awkward. I felt odd writing this. 🤷‍♀️