Ken can only watch as a young man walks into the room and looks around at the walls. "Not bad, not bad. That will have to go. This can stay," he mutters as he walks around the walls, only to stop in front of Ken. "Oh, no, this will never do." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a large fluffy brush. "Never fear, the artist is here!"
He stands back for a moment, and then smacks his head. "Oh, of course. What else could a healthy young man wish for on his wall?"
He darts forward and begins to brush strokes over Ken, who is confused, and feeling tingly where the brush moves over his body. "Blonde, or redhead? Oh, basic blonde. Nice curves, but not too Rubinesque!"
When the artist steps back Ken can tell someting has changed, but he can't tell what exactly, but the description has him worried. The artist smiles to himself, and then pocketing the brush, smiles, "My work here is done. The rest remain to counterbalance my masterpiece!" Then he is gone.
Ken hangs on the wall for a couple of hours before a fellow he recognizes as his roomate walks into the room with a box. He glances around, then slowly moves himself in. Noticing Ken, he pushes one of the two beds over by him and leers at him. "What a girl like you doing hanging around in a place like this?"