Caption: Bathhouse Music

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Did they have to have that music on all the time? It seemed like, no matter when Lance went to the gym these days, the bass from that damn place next door leaked through the walls. Even when he had his headphones in, it was like he could still feel it in his bones.

That place, was the bathhouse that had somehow managed to open up right next door. No one had expected it. It had been under construction for a few months, and no one had any idea what it was going to be, and then, when it opened, the guys at the gym were disgusted to discover that they were going to be sharing their parking lot with a bunch of fags going in to get their rocks off. They’d tried complaining, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they settled into a bit of a truce. The only thing breaking that line between them was the music coming from the bathhouse.

It could be worse though, right? Lance pulled off his shirt, dropped his gym shorts, and admired himself in the mirror, pleased with his progress lately. He snapped a photo, and then put his phone back in his bag, and kept admiring himself.

The nipple piercings he’d gotten a few weeks ago were still a bit tender, but fuck, they were hot as hell. He’d never really thought about it before–if anything, he might have thought getting his tits pierced was a little…well, gay. It felt so good though, and it definitely made him look hotter in his opinion. Hell, just looking at himself, he was getting a bit hard already. 

He groped his cock and balls through his grungy jock, and noticed it was wet again. He kept leaking at the gym lately, usually enough to soak his jock and stain the front of his shorts. It…was embarrassing, but also kind of hot for some reason, but it was hard to explain why. He was about to stroke off, when he realized he wasn’t alone–an older, chubby fellow was on a bench not twenty feet away, dripping dry with a towel over his shoulder. He must have been in the shower while Lance was checking himself out.

The older man leered at Lance, pulled the towel away, and revealed his own cock, rock hard, and he started stroking it while Lance stared at it.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Ten minutes later, Lance left the door, not even aware of the load of cum plastered across his bearded face. As he headed for his truck, he saw a familiar car pull up with some guys who worked out at the gym, but instead of going in there, they all went right into the bathhouse instead. Lance was a bit…unnerved by it, and wondered how he’d never realized any of them were fags this whole time. He certainly would never be going in there, of course. No…never. Sure, he had that one dream once, and…but no. Not even if he was curious. He wouldn’t cross that line.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 5)

Dinner was good, but boring. In line with his new look, Taylor made a simple dinner–chicken breast, brown rice, a side of vegetables–high protein for his growing physique, but for Quinn…it just wasn’t quite enough, or what he was really feeling like. They chatted a bit, Quinn trying to ask about Taylor’s research, but not really getting anywhere with him. Taylor mostly wanted to talk about his workouts, and about how nice their landlord was, and how much he liked living here so far. He was sure that Quinn would feel the same way soon enough.

After dinner, Quinn ran to the store to get some food of his own, and to get a few things on Taylor’s list. Things would have gone fine, probably, if he hadn’t caught sight of his reflection in the doors of one of the freezer cases…and seen those same, shining eyes from the mirror in his bedroom. Quinn just stared at them for a moment, popping an erection right there in the grocery aisle, and then he went back out into the parking lot, grabbed a cart, and started filling it. Ice cream, chips, cookies, soda–things Quinn usually never bought all just sounded so good to him all of a sudden–and what was wrong with enjoying himself, really? It wasn’t like he was going to be able to mooch off Taylor, since he was on such a health kick. He checked out, loaded everything into his car, and then drove home. Taylor was in his room, presumably studying, and so Quinn was left to his own devices–he put the groceries away, and then tore into some chips, still ravenous after the meager dinner Taylor had made. He took the chips with him back to his room, planning on playing a computer game or something, but he never made it that far–his reflection caught his eyes, and he just sat in front of the mirror for the rest of the evening, only leaving his room to go down and get more food, and the rest of the time he spent jacking off, feeding load after load of cum to the mirror–before collapsing into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, Quinn woke up hungry–but before that, he needed to take care of something in the bathroom. After taking a piss, he looked at himself in the mirror–and he was certain something was off. His stubble seemed too thick for one thing. He usually only had to shave a couple of days a week, but it was coming in thick, and dark after just two. He thought about shaving it for a moment, but the eyes of his reflection sparkled for a moment, and he changed his mind. It looked…good, didn’t it? He admired himself in the mirror, the slight paunch that hadn’t been there a few days ago looked nice too…but it might look better if it was even bigger…

No, wait, why had he thought that? 

The eyes of his reflection sparkled a bit brighter now, and Quinn went a little blank, hauled out his cock, and started masturbating right there in the bathroom, looking at himself. He looked good. Hot, really. He liked masturbating to himself, liked admiring himself, wanted…yeah, wanted to get fatter, and hairier, and…

He didn’t cum–but he came back to himself at the edge, and pulled back. He could…cum in his room, but first he needed breakfast. He went down to the kitchen and stuffed himself, then went back up to his room, where much of his day was spent the same way–sitting there in front of the mirror, masturbating, and the changes continued.

A week later, Quinn was hardly the same young man who had moved into the house. The scrawny, five foot six inch fellow was now nearly six feet tall, and had packed on close to 100 pounds in just a few days. His once hairless skin was now covered with a thick layer of body hair, across his chest and shoulders, down his forearms–and across his sizable gut. He was also balding–enough to make him look a few years older at least. It had distressed him, when he’d first noticed it, but after some time in front of the mirror, admiring it, he realized it just made him look even more manly. He liked looking manly. He liked men.

That was a thought that had been occurring to him more and more lately. He liked men–and since the only man he was around regularly was Taylor, Quinn found himself liking him more and more. He would fantasize about how he had caught him masturbating after that workout, think about what he could have done if he’d been more of a man at the time, and not so scared. Then again, he was a man now, wasn’t he? He stroked his larger, seven inch cock…and started to wonder if there wasn’t a way he might get the two of them to do a little exploring together.

Alright, how are we going to bring these two together? You can choose two of the four options. The bonus patreon poll is over here–as always, patron votes count five times more than votes in the regular poll!

Sketch: New Sheriff in Town

It was Eta Alpha Sigma’s first party of the year, and so of course that meant it had to be as loud as the boys could make it–the frat president, a senior named Evan–had told his bros to make sure of it. The college they attended was in a small sleepy farming town away from the states big cities–you could say that EAS’s first party of the year was always the towns wakeup call that school was back in session, after its quiet summer.

As usual, it didn’t take more than a couple of hours before there was the sound of the siren, and a patrol car pulled up in front of the booming house. It was tradition, really, and Evan knew what to do. He stepped outside, and walked down to where the cop was getting out…except it was a new face he didn’t recognize. The way things had usually gone were like this–frat president would give police chief his bribe for the year on the first night of the party, and cops wouldn’t show up after that for the rest of the year. “You’re a new face, man,” Evan said, already counting out hundreds he’d gotten from his wealthy father.

“Last sheriff retired–newly elected in August. Just started this week,” the new sheriff said. He came around, and his shirt read “Sheriff Dinvers.”

“Well, Mr. Dinvers–here’s the deal. Two thousand dollars in your pocket, and you don’t show up here for the rest of the year, got it?”

Apparently, he didn’t, because before Evan really knew what was happening, the sheriff had him against the car for attempting to bribe an officer of the county, handcuffed him, shoved him in the back of his car, and drove off–and the party continued on, none the wiser that the frat president had just been arrested.

Evan threw a fit, naturally, threatening Dinvers with all sorts of legal trouble once his father heard about this–but he realized, quickly, that they weren’t heading to the police station–instead, the sheriff drove him to a large warehouse, drove into it, and parked. “Now boy, I campaigned on change in this town, and a whole lot of us who live here are pretty sick and tired of you fucking frats making our lives hell nine months out of the year. I know all ya’ll got rich fuck parents, and I don’t give a shit–because I know how to get results–and I get a little something I like out of the bargain too.” The last part he whispered into Evan’s ear as he dragged him from the cop car, and over to a chair facing a screen in a little room. Evan fought and screamed, but the sheriff injected him with some sort of drug–and Evan calmed down quickly.

The sheriff bound him to the chair, pointed him at the screen, and turned on the projector–and a spiral started playing on the wall, along with a strange soundtrack–almost words, but layered on top of each other so Evan couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. The sheriff put in some earplugs, and as Evan sank into a drug induced trance, he went to work, cutting away the boys expensive clothes–and then the real fun began–he turned on the shaver and buzzed away the pretty boy’s hair–the first of several changes he’d be making to the president’s image tonight.


No one knew where Evan had disappeared to, until late the next day, when the patrol car arrived, dropped Evan off in an orange prison jumpsuit, his head shaved, and holloweyed like he didn’t sleep a wink all night. The frat was pissed, of course–they wanted to know what they were going to do for revenge, but Evan just told them to calm down. They’d sort it out, but first he needed to rest. Alone in his room, he looked at his bare head, then pulled off the jumpsuit, carefully, feeling the welts and bruises on his back where the sheriff had…flogged him. Evan had begged him for it, his cock had exploded in the middle of the session, and that’s when the sheriff had put this on him–he looked down at the metal chastity device, riveted in place, and shuddered. Evan…had his orders. He knew what he had to do, if he ever wanted that to come off his cock again. 

He came clean a couple days later. Everything–the bribes, the embezzlement, the coverups for crimes by the college and by the fraternity themselves, the rapes, the beatings, the occasional death by hazing during pledge week–all of it. He’d agreed to a reduced penalty with the county sheriff for coming clean, and within a week, EAS had been dissolved on campus, the brothers all caught up in their own parts of the scandal as their wealthy families tried to shield them. Most transferred to other colleges, a few faced charges of their own. The other frats on campus knew that a warning shot had been fired all the same–the town wasn’t going to let their antics go anymore–they had better shape up, or they would be next.

But Evan didn’t care about that. All he could think about was the words running through his head, how…good it had felt, chained to the wall, the feel of that flogger on his back, his aching cock trapped in this tiny cage. He found himself alone in the office with the sheriff, and he broke down, and begged him to release him. He’d done everything he’d asked for, he’d followed his orders to the letter–just let his cock go, that was all he needed…wasn’t it?

Sheriff Dinvers just laughed. “Pig–I don’t think you’re done here, not by a long shot. I told you if you did as I said, you’d earn a chance at getting that cage off–remember that?” He said, and pushed his boot between the boy’s knees where he was kneeling, tapping the cage with one toe of his shiny black boot. “What do you think, you wanna try and earn it? Then lick my boot, pig.”

Evan gave a little squeal of indecision. He knew–he knew–that if he did this…his old life was forfeit. The sheriff had him right where he wanted him. He…could leave. Get the cage off somewhere, even if he had to tell his dad what he’d done. He’d disown him, sure, but…but what he wanted was the feel of that flogger again. To feel the whip the sheriff had threatened him with. Feel that cock in his hole again, do anything for this rough, masculine, domineering…

His tongue was on the boot before he could even really form the thought–and he knew he was lost. The conditioning was too deep already, and he…wanted it. “That’s a good pig–why don’t you come on home with me, and we’ll have some fun?”


Evan didn’t finish college that year. He dropped out a couple of weeks after selling his stuff, told his dad he didn’t want anything to do with the family anymore, and left–he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, but he didn’t go far–he moved right in with the sheriff, so his real training, and transformation, could begin. He lived down in the dungeon, eating a strict–and massive–diet. If he was going to be the sheriff’s pig, he was going to have to look, like one, wasn’t he? He packed on weight, and he was educated in all manners of sex–piss play, fisting, bondage–but it was the pain he loved the most. When he’d been a good pig, and done all his chores, and made his weight goals, and shown he was worthy–Master would undo the cage for a session, and beat the pig raw until he came, and then lock him back up again–and cuddle with him upstairs in the bed, tending to his back, admiring the growing web of scars forming on the young pig’s hide–and tell him how proud he was of him.

A couple years later, a new deputy joined the force. He was the sheriff’s cousin, or so he said. He was a tubby fellow, but capable, and more than willing to help out the department in whatever way they needed. He always had his collar buttoned to the top, his tie knotted tight–so he could hide his slave collar underneath. He was also always mindful of his cuffs–less he expose the riot of perverse, piggy tattoos his uncle–his master–had started putting on him. But his back was always kept clean–just the scars there, showing him for what he really was. A fat pain pig, and that was all Evan wanted to be, for the rest of his life.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 4)

Quinn was about to hang his clothes up in the closet, when he noticed that something was still in there, leaning against the back wall, with a sheet hanging over it. It was large–easily five feet by two feet, and when he leaned it out, discovered it was pretty damn heavy too. He dragged it out on his own and got the sheet off, and found himself looking at an ornately framed mirror. It was a little…gaudy, sure, but the more Quinn looked at the frame, at the intricate swirls of the darkly stained wood, the more…he wanted to see what it looked like, hanging on the wall, just out of curiosity.

He looked around, and saw what he figured there had to be–a couple of nails in the wall where it must have been hanging before. Funny–Mr. Woodrow didn’t seem like the sort of guy who would be so careless as to leave the nails there after taking it down–but it saved him the effort he supposed. Still, the mirror was heavy! He tried to lift it up on his own, and nearly crashed backwards with it. He might as well get help.

“Hey Taylor!” he shouted, “Could you help me out for a sec?”

He listened, but didn’t hear a response–so he went down and decided to see if he was still in the basement, and just couldn’t hear him. He made his way down the stairs, turned the corner, froze, and quickly turned back around the corner of the stairs, cheeks blushing red. Nervously, he looked around the corner again, and sure enough, there Taylor was…jacking off.

Jacking off, with one of his arms thrown up, snorting up his own musk as he stroked off, spandex shorts down around his thighs, wearing one of the nastiest looking jocks Quinn had ever seen.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Taylor had never lifted a weight in his life, and now, one summer after living here, he was…what, some stinking, musky bodybuilder now? It didn’t make any sense, and yet…he found himself watching him, unable to look away, until with a few loud snorts, Taylor came, shooting his load into his jockstrap, and then pulling his shorts right back up.

Quinn decided he might as well do it now–he stomped on the stairs a couple times, like he was just coming down, and then turned the corner. “Hey Taylor, think you could help me with something real quick?”

Taylor smiled at him, “Sure man, I was just finishing up–what do you need?”

They went up to Quinn’s room together, and Taylor helped him get the mirror up on the wall. He was still covered in fresh sweat from his workout, and the musk rolling off him, and the smell of cum, was making Quinn gag a bit–but the mirror was there. “Hey, are you, uh…feeling alright?” Quinn asked him. 

“Sure–why do you ask?”

“I just…I mean, I didn’t know you were into weightlifting, I guess.”

Taylor shrugged, like it was no big deal, and didn’t really see why Quinn was asking. “I’m gonna go eat something–want me to make you some too?”

“Yeah, sure–thanks.”

Taylor left then, and left Quinn alone. Or almost alone. He was with the mirror, after all.

He looked at himself in it, and he was…amazed at the clarity. It seemed more like a window, than a mirror, and looking at himself, and thinking about Taylor, he didn’t really have much to compare to. Still, there was something about him, in the mirror, something that seemed…off. It took him a moment to realize that what was off, was that his reflection’s pants were tented with an erection.

He blushed, looked down, and sure enough, he was hard! Had Taylor noticed? How long had he been like that? He looked back up, and this time caught his own eyes in the mirror…and they weren’t his eyes. They sparkled, like crystal. They were beautiful, and terrifying, and he couldn’t look away, as his reflection opened his pants, pulled out his cock, and started jacking off–Quinn doing the same thing, not quite sure who was leading who.

He lasted for a couple of minutes, his eyes never leaving his reflection, and came–the cum flying out and splattering across the surface of the mirror, where it…was absorbed, but Quinn didn’t notice that. He as still lost in those eyes–they were so much larger, all consuming, like they…wanted to devour him. At last, shaking, he could look away, and when he looked back at himself after a moment, his reflection was normal. The eyes were normal too…but then, as he looked, something else seemed off, but he couldn’t quite place it. He thought about taking the mirror down, but he’d have to ask Taylor again…and things were awkward enough. Instead, he kept unpacking, and then joined his housemate for dinner.

Little did he know, his reflection had changed, somehow–but what was different?


Alright, here’s the next poll! The possibilities below can all be a bit mixed and matched, so there will probably two or maybe three that get used together, to determine what happens to Quinn over the next few weeks. You can choose two options! Patrons have their bonus poll, worth five times as much, over here!

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 3)

Taylor opened the box, and wrinkled his nose up at the smell coming up from it. It was…not pleasant. Did Mr. Woodrow even wash these clothes before bringing them over to him? It smelled like a locker room in the box, and Taylor started digging through the contents, confused about why his landlord would bring him stuff like this. It was all workout gear–and most of it made out of spandex of some sort. He thought about the workout room in the basement but he hadn’t used it once since he’d arrived–it wasn’t really his sort of thing. Taylor was thin and lanky, had never really been interested in sports or anything. Had Mr. Woodrow gotten the wrong idea or something about what he was doing here?

He dug down a bit deeper, and at the bottom, he found…something else. A leather vest, some leather straps, what looked like leather pants even. Some sneakers, and also some leather boots. The smell coming off them was pungent…but also a bit different. It was…a bit too much to think about, if this stuff had really come from Mr. Woodrow’s son.

The smell in the air was thick now, and Taylor wasn’t noticing it as much. If anything, now that he was more used to it, it smelled kind of nice. When he’d seen what was in the box, his first instinct had been to just toss it, but now…well, trying it on couldn’t hurt, right? It was just for some laughs after all, maybe a selfie to show the guys later, when they moved in. So he stripped down, and pulled on a well worn jockstrap, a set of spandex shorts and a spandex muscle shirt–both of them actually hanging a bit loose off his thin frame, even as small and stretchy as they were. How big was Woodrow’s son, that this stuff would fit him? Still, it did feel nice…and he’d never had fabric like this on before. It was…different, especially on his cock, which was feeling…electric, somehow. He groped himself, breathing deep, the scent sliding into him now, surrounding him, and he shoved his hand down into the front of the shorts and started jacking off, as mindlessly as he’d done when he’d found that underwear before.

He came, and with it, a mind blowing orgasm. He even whited out for a moment, and came too just in time to catch himself with the wall in front of him, and looked around, bewildered, a massive wet spot on the front of his workout clothes. What…had he been doing, anyway? Mr. Woodrow had come by to talk about some repairs…but had there been more to it? No–not that he could recall now. He saw the box on the table, with the leather gear inside it, but didn’t think about it–he just took it up to his room, and put the box deep in his closet, where he wouldn’t have to worry about it yet. That…that, was for later, something told him, and then he forgot about it, sat down on the bed, and pulled on his sneakers, excited for his workout.

Unknown to him, in the moment of that orgasm, all of his old clothes had disappeared–replaced instead by clothes of the same musky nature as these ones–mostly spandex, but a few basic muscle shirts as well. The fact that they were all still too big for him didn’t bother him–he…he was going to fix that. He went down to the basement and started his workout. A workout he had never done before in his life, but he lifted with perfect form like he had done it for years, and already, his muscles were tensing, and growing, bit by bit–but only Mr. Woodrow could tell at the moment.

He looked down into his scrying pool, pleased with the results. This one wouldn’t require any more work for a while, he would do just fine in time. He checked the calendar again, and saw that the next lodger would be arriving a bit earlier than expected–in another few weeks time. A young man by the name of Quinn. Plenty of time to get his room ready, in any case–and Mr. Woodrow sat back, and enjoyed the show of Taylor working out–his research project now secondary to a new one–building up his new body.


“Alright, so here’s the main rooms–you can set your luggage there for the moment,” Mr. Woodrow said, and continued the tour for Quinn. It was a couple weeks later now, early August, and Quinn came into town early both to escape his family, who was driving him nuts, and to spend some time with Taylor, who was one of his closest friends, before school started and they got sucked into their studies. The house was amazing–just like Taylor had said, and Mr. Woodrow seemed very nice as well. 

“Is Taylor around?” Quinn asked.

“I think he’s downstairs–he’ll probably come up…oh, I think I hear him.”

There was a thumping on what sounded like stairs, and the basement door opened, and Quinn’s jaw dropped. There Taylor was, but not…quite the Taylor he recalled. He was…getting buff. A few weeks down in the workout room had packed thirty pounds of muscle onto Taylor’s frame–enough that the spandex clothing he was wearing looked like it actually belonged on him. “Quinn!” he shouted, and pulled his friend into a musky hug–he reeked. Quinn tried to pull away, but the hug lasted…a bit too long, and Quinn was conscious that Taylor had pulled their crotches together too–and he could feel the outline of Taylor’s cock against his own. Then he released him, and Quinn was too confused to say much. Taylor said hi to Mr. Woodrow, and then went back down to continue his workout–while Mr. Woodrow picked up Quinn’s bag, and showed him to his room upstairs.

The room was nice–spacious, already furnished modestly. Mr. Woodrow told him to go ahead and unpack, and he’d leave him alone–and handed him the key to the house. Quinn was reeling, trying to process what he’d just seen…but as much as he wanted to talk to Taylor, his sudden change was…a bit much. Instead, he started unpacking and getting his room in order, but as he did, he discovered something odd…

What sort of magical trap has the landlord laid for Quinn in his room? As usual, you can vote for two options. If you support me on Patreon, you can find the bonus poll over here as well.



Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 1)

“So like I said, we had a nice family living here for a while, but…well, I don’t really have the details,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a look that implied he did, in fact, have them, “but let’s just say that they ended up getting divorced, and neither of them could afford the rent on their own, so they found new places for themselves. It’s been vacant for a while, but I took the time to fix it up a bit, add some more furnishings, you know…”

Taylor was still so agog at the place that he was only half listening, as the landlord kept going on and on about the house during the tour. It was beautiful–big kitchen, spacious living areas, five bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, a little exercise room in the basement–it was unbelievable really, especially at the price Mr. Woodrow was offering–enough that Taylor and his four friends could actually afford it while they were going to school next year.

“Now, I do need a year lease. You said you wanted to rent it with your friends? That doesn’t bother me really, as long as all of your names are on it. Do you think you’d all be interested?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Taylor said, “I mean, I’ll check with them about it, but this…I mean, it’s a great place man, it really is.”

Mr. Woodrow beamed, “I put a lot of work into it, but I know around here, you students just need places to live. I like to know that I’m helping out some young men when I can.”

Taylor sent the listing to his friends, and all of them agreed that it looked like an amazing find. Taylor was the only one who was going to live there the whole summer, while he was doing a research project on campus. His other friends would join him closer to the school year starting in August and September–though Aaron said that for a place this nice, he might show up early. The lease could be signed electronically, and with a deposit–helpfully supplied by Taylor’s father, they were all set to go–they had the perfect fucking place, at a great bargain, and it didn’t look like there was a single catch anywhere.

At least, until Taylor was leaving the house, whistling in excitement and ready to start moving in, when someone came out from behind some bushes and hustled towards him. He was an older man, and he looked like he meant some sort of business. “Hey, kid! What were you doing in there?” he shouted at him.

Taylor just looked at him, confused, but assumed it was a neighbor. “Oh, uh, me and my friends are going to be renting it for the next year. You live around here?”

The guy’s face went a bit pale, and he came closer to him. “Don’t. Rip it up–don’t sign a lease with him. That place…it’s fucked man, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

“What? Why?”

The man hesitated, and then blurted out, “I lived there, and it made me gay.”

Taylor just stared at him, and then started laughing.

“I’m fucking serious! I was married, I had a kid. We started living there a year ago, and…and fuck, I don’t know how that fucker did it, some spell, or a curse, or who the fuck knows, but now…now I fucking love cock kid. I love cock more than fucking anything, and it’s fucking destroyed me. Killed my marriage, I lost my fucking job! Don’t…don’t do it, don’t move in there, you’ll fucking regret it.”

The guy moved closer to him, but Taylor swatted his hand away. “Whatever pervert–fuck off! It’s just a fucking house man, get a grip on yourself. If you wanna suck dicks, whatever, I don’t care, but I’m straight.”

He pushed past the stranger and got in his car, and the man just stared after him as he drove off, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be straight for long–not in that place.


It was a couple weeks later now, and TayLor finally felt like he had all of his stuff in the house, at least. Most of it was still in boxes, that that was a small problem now, after moving his stuff out of the dorm and across town in his small car. His friends had all seen the place by now and were thrilled with his luck–and a bit jealous that he was going to enjoy it by himself all summer long, since his rich father was willing to pay for the three months himself, before the rest of them moved in.

So, here he was–it was his, finally. So Taylor decided to take a break from unpacking, and decided to poke around a little. The pool in particular was enticing, especially since the weather was finally starting to heat up, but Mr. Woodrow told him it hadn’t been turned on yet, so he had to wait. Instead, he poked around the house itself, checking out the other rooms, peeking in the closets, up in the attic, and down in the basement–but something in particular caught his undivided attention for a while, but what was it?


My plan for this one is a bit more of a slow burn. We might have a few parts with just Taylor, and then add in the rest of his housemates to be corrupted as well, in turn. We’ll see how it goes! The first poll is below, and the bonus Patreon poll is over here too. You can make two selections each in the polls!