The invitation caught Ken by surprise that day, a couple of weeks before Halloween. These days, you never got stuff like this in the mail, after all, but there it was, in a clean white envelope, something that Ken had only ever assumed was rumour. An invitation to Pigtown’s Halloween Party.
Pigtown, of course, was the stuff of legend. It was a bar, that much Ken knew, but he’d heard so many different stories of the place from people, moving through the circles he did, and every story sounded a bit ridiculous to his ears. Still, people insisted the place actually existed–he’d even, on occasion, met a person of two brazen enough to claim that they themselves had gone through those doors and come out the other side to spin a tale of perversion and decadence and change unlike anything Ken had ever heard before.
What choice did he have? He had to go and see it for himself, of course.
He didn’t tell his friends what he was doing–the invitation had explicitly said not to bring guests–that the invitation was for one, and one only. Anyone bringing a guest along would not be allowed in, due to capacity concerns, allegedly. The other interesting note was that costumes would be provided, apparently–there was a mandatory clothes check, and costumes would be distributed at the door. Ken didn’t know what that might mean–maybe everyone was going to be wearing something similar? That did sound kind of hot–and thankfully he hadn’t spent anything on a costume for this year yet.
The day of the party arrived at last. He bailed on his prior commitments, blaming an alleged illness, and then made his way to the bar. There wasn’t an address, oddly enough–just a series of cryptic directions, most of them relying on landmarks, rather than street names. He got started on the trail early, not wanting to be late, but was rather confounded all afternoon–it wasn’t until dusk arrived, and the streets got dark, that the path started to make sense, weaving in and out of alleyways, into places of the city that Ken had never laid eyes on before, street names he no longer recognized. There were…people here, poking their way out from the dark, some of them human, others…well, they had to be human too, but something else was there as well, something hungry. Ken hesitated, turned around to go back, but found himself lost almost immediately, the men in the dark closing in on him, and he fled back, tracing the rest of the path to Pigtown. Apparently, once started, you had to see it to the conclusion.
There was a line at the door, but it moved quickly. The anteroom of the club was a locker room, all manners of men stripping down to nothing, packing their clothes into bags, and handing them off the employees at the club, getting numbers in return. When Ken handed his clothes off, the employee stressed that he make sure he hold onto his number–clothes were not returned without a valid number.
With that, they disappeared, and returned with a second bag, apparently with his costume. The bag was sealed, and had his name on the side, printed. Men weren’t allowed to change into their costumes there, however, for the sake of surprise–past the ante room, there was a hall with changing rooms on both sides. Men never reemerged from them, the sign on the door would just flip from red to green again. Ken entered one, heart pounding, and opened up his bag to find his costume on the inside–but was a bit disappointed. A black tanktop. A pair of tight black shorts. Socks and boots in his size. A small mask for his face, more like a masquerade than something frightening. There was no pocket for the clothes check tag, but he found that it was attached to a bracelet, like he’d gotten at bat houses before, that kept it secure around his upper arm. He pulled on the clothes, and then a second door opened, and he found himself in a throbbing room, full of men dancing–and sure enough, all of them were in the same dress as him, a sea of men in black tanks and shirts, masked, booted–it was quite the sight, actually…but was this really all? He’d expected…more, he supposed, from the stories, than just a nice rave. Still, the night was young.
He walked around the room, and saw a cluster of people around one end of the room. He jostled his way over there, and saw a wide doorway leading deeper into the complex, with caution tape strung across it. There was also a sign posted with a warning.
This is Halloween, after all, and Pigtown has some…well, some things only come out that this time of year, but isn’t that why you’re here? Some of what you might find deeper in the club will shock you, frighten you, or perhaps be something dredged from your deep nightmares. Of course, no harm can come to you forever, so long as you keep your clothes check tag! Don’t lose it in the dark–or you might never get back out…The party ends at four–if you aren’t back into your own clothes by then…well, some parties never end.
It was a good gag, he supposed. People were trickling in little by little, but he noticed no one seemed to be coming out–then again, it was early. He passed by the sign without paying it much heed, but he did check to make sure his tag was still on his arm. Beyond the sign though…things immediately got a bit…strange as he went deeper into the dark hallway. A wider variety of costumes for one thing, guys in leather and rubber, small and large, all of them moving through the dark–but it was the masks that caught him off guard. They had to be masks, right? No one could really look that…horrifying in person, of course not. He hurried through the hallway as quickly as he could, but was caught off guard when someone came up behind him, grabbed his tag, and yanked it down his arm and off him in one movement.
“Hey!” Ken shouted at the short man, who turned around for a moment, laughing–his face like some deformed imp, or other nightmarish something. Then, the fellow raced off, deeper into the complex, and Ken hurried after him. The hallways kept branching, and he could hear…screams around him, or was that just people fucking and yelling in glee? It was unnerving in any case, but he had no choice but to find that little fucker and get his tag back. He passed a clock on the wall that said it was 11 pm–he had five hours to find that fuck and get out, before…well, he was suddenly thinking that the warning sign might have been a little more accurate than he wanted to think. He picked a path and drove deeper, only to find himself somewhere new.
Alright, so here’s how this one is going to work. Ken is going to be chasing the little demon through the complex, changing all the while, and trying to avoid getting caught inside Pigtown when the party is over. There are, of course, a wide variety of ways that Ken’s story can end–most of them not particularly good for Ken. I’m aiming for more of a horror vibe with this one, so some of the content might get weird along the way–fair warning. Each time we hit an ending of some sort, rather than start a new story, I’ll go back to previous branches that had been popular, and continue Ken’s story from there instead. Here’s the first poll! The patron bonus poll is over here as well!