Scott McIntyre's Place overlooked the hill above the town of Wallside, a testament to affluence that intruded on the small town life - one already precariously balanced with the fact the small town was only just on the outskirts of San Jose, California. The reason for the name, according to town legends, was that the first thing people settling there in the 1800s found was a wall, which they ended up building the town alongside. They took the whole thing as an omen, a sort of instruction on where to build. And from there, as California grew and expanded into the sixth largest economy in the world, Wallside precariously maintained its place and population. It contained in itself a mix of wealthy folks who loved the atmosphere and location, and older populations who'd been there longer - people who could trace their ancestry back to the old days.
As usual for the weekend and at 10:23 PM, The McIntyre Place was the host for a loud, rambunctious party - celebrating the Varsity Football Team's victory over another small town football league. The student athletes involved would always drink, carouse, and make as much noise as they pleased, knowing there were next to no neighbors at that point. The leader of the bunch was, as always, Scott McIntyre. The quarterback, the valedictorian to be, and the living embodiment of the fact that intelligence does not equate to proper behavior.
Six foot four inches tall, two hundred and twenty five pounds of musculature, Scott was the All American jock dreamboat - down to dyeing his brown hair blond. His light blue / slate colored eyes could best be described as very enticing. Scott was 19, due to starting school a little late. He looked for all intents and purposes almost comically perfect - a living, breathing Ken Doll that had sculpted, handsome features, a muscular body, all to a degree that might leave one wondering if he was some kind of artificial man. In truth, there was indeed very little organic or natural about Scott - what he wanted, he got - including steroids, minor work done on his face, and anything needed to enhance his image.
Scott had some big plans for the future, so it was said. But it wasn't like he let that get in the way of enjoyment now.
As the music thrummed away downstairs, a wide variety of assorted students partying the night away on the night after the big victory, Scott and the other older Varsity players were intent on having their own celebration - separate from the rest, and even from their girlfriends. Not that many of them had been exactly faithful before this. Scott's room was on the third floor, speaking to how loud the music was - that they could still vaguely hear it - and to how wealthy the family was.
Not that Scott's family cared what he did. They were off trying to play it like they were part of the San Francisco Socialite scene. His mother in particular. It could be said just as well that Scott's father was an older doppelganger of him - 45 rather than 19 - and his mother only stuck with him for the lifestyle. Scott's father put in every bit of effort to remain hot, young looking, and stay as desirable as possible - like father like son.
And Scott's private party was attended by a collage of both his fellow jocks on the football team's varsity league and a number of other victorious athletes and personal allies to Scott McIntyre.
Included in the private upstairs party was...
Martin Plesky, who'd been put in the unusual position of the senior class nerd ending up second best to the jock in academic pursuits. Dressed in a v-neck t-shirt with such a plunging neckline that it reached his navel, with a pair of skinny jeans covering his long, lean legs. Whereas most other nerds languished in inactivity, Martin enjoyed a lean and muscular if not terribly brawny physique. Where he helped keep Scott sharp academically, Scott helped get Martin into good shape. Now the nerd rocked a six pack that showed through that very plunging neckline, and a decent pair of pectorals, all capped off by tight, strong shoulders. "Is the entertainment quite ready to arrive, Mister McIntyre?"
"Not quite yet, Plesky. You'll know." Scott mischievously responded, he himself was eager but he didn't quite want to show it yet. And what his girlfriend didn't know wouldn't hurt a thing - or so he thought.
Also included was Vincent Haney, one of the defensive linemen in the same varsity team - his job on the field being to defend his quarterback, Scott. Off the field, it was much the same story. A strong, tall and powerfully built African American young man with an affluent father, Vincent was dashingly handsome and very popular with women. Though what he never told his many dates was the fact despite his many straight successes, he had a single "if its you" crush - that very quarterback, Scott McIntyre.
Vincent ran a hand through his buzz cut hair, "Trust me, Martin. Scott's got the best idea for our night's entertainment. Gonna be partying all night long, baby!" He and Scott fistbumped - and Vincent hoped his quarterback might end up allowing a little homoerotic activity tonight. Vincent had long hoped to be invited to screw the same woman as his QB - and thus hopefully get to touch Scott, too.
"I mean, we're up here instead of spending the night downstairs with the others. I hope this is something next level." Speaking was Stephan Kim, a half white / half Korean swimmer who'd recently won big in a meet. A long time friend of Scott's, Stephan came along eager to demonstrate his masculinity - having something of a complex on the subject. He was rumored to like other guys as well as women - an allegation he denied on every occasion, albeit with a little much protest. His dusty light brown hair was trimmed to a crew cut, and most of his body hair was shaved off. His swimmer's build was accentuated by his tight black tank top and short shorts worn for the evening.
The last in the private party was Daniel Cardenas, another football player. A tall, muscular Latino with slicked back black hair, stunning blue eyes, and a nice smile, Daniel came from a moderately successful family on the up and up in local business. Dressed in a mostly unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sneaker shoes, Daniel was an avid party boy and - as many of the women attested - almost embarrassingly horny at all times. One of his dates even attested when she took too long in the bathroom getting ready, she emerged to see Danny happily humping her pillow, desperate to get off. Aside his libido issues, Danny was also possibly one of the nicer guys.
"My dudes..." he started, "I really can't handle all this waiting."
Scott chuckled, "It's been like, fifteen minutes."
Daniel pouted a bit and held back - only to lean forward when he heard something. Someone walking up to the room full of young men...
In walked 22 year old Michelle Simon, the so called entertainment of the evening, hired by Scott himself with a bit of money from the trustfund. She was a stripper, having fallen on hard times when college proved out of her reach due to costs. So with nothing else to go for, she went with utilizing her admittedly good looking body and face to make a living. Stripping was far from easy, and she occasionally got some grabby clients, but it paid - and especially when it was wealthy elite douchebags like Scott McIntyre.
She remembered when guys like Scott basically treated her like a commodity back in school. Assigned her a nickname and a score. And then they went ahead and treated each time they went out with her or got to a certain "base" as worth a certain number of points. She couldn't stand this senior class rich boy type most days...but she was a working girl right now. And she needed to make her money. And that meant making these guys happy.
And so as she walked in, ignoring the glances and come hithers, she knew she'd need to compromise that dislike tonight if she wanted to make the month's rent in one night.
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Of course, Michelle wasn't the only bereaved woman working tonight.
Scott's now ex-girlfriend Lilah Reed, dumped merely two nights prior, had found her way to a very interesting and very odd item in her mostly estranged grandmother's attic when she went over to have a cry at her boyfriend dumping her. Mom, Dad, and her older brother Jonathan, none of them liked Grandma Edith. They all said she was "weird", "had odd practices", and "didn't fit in". The family was...pretty heavily baptist. Except Edith. She disliked the church, and honestly, Lilah didn't blame her - with how they treated her.
All the rumors about Grandma Edith for how she and Grandpa Lyndon didn't have their marriage a certain way. She and he treated each other equally. As partners rather than...well. One man, and his helpmate.
Whereas the others basically encouraged her to accept it and not bring it up any more, Edith let her have her emotions. Let her have her time to herself. And in that time to herself, Lilah found something.
Dressed in just a night dress, the blond and beautiful Lilah peered over a black book with a three headed dragon on the cover, the title reading "ARS MECHANUM". Everything about the dusty tome from the cover to the archaic and strange pages gave her the impression of a witch's tome. Was...Was this why Edith was disliked? Was Grandma Edith a witch?
The more she read, the more Lilah began to think about trying something. She couldn't very well just let Scott go through life using and then leaving people - it wouldn't be right. Yes, totally. And she wasn't JUST doing this for revenge, and because she hadn't slept well in those nights, and--- she looked through the book more, the pages seeming to go on and on. Describing things she could hardly reckon with. There was no question in it.
This was a witch's grimoire. And she found it gathering dust up here in the attic. A smile at last spread over Lilah's face. She couldn't find the exact spell she wanted, even as she flipped backward and forward - but she decided to try and combine a couple to see what she could make. A piece of chalk found in the same drawer produced a spell circle on the ground, engraving hieroglyphs whose meaning she pieced together from the book.
"This should do it. I feel like Sabrina, but it SHOULD work. Scott and his buddies think they're having the party of their lives...but in a way, they're right." Lilah smiled as she bit her index finger - hard enough to get a drop of blood to fall on her improvised spell circle. At once, dust and dark dirt swirled under her fingers as she felt herself manipulating something. Sending something - a spell she could comprehend at once as she worked it.
And she was shocked to find it was a bigger spell than what she thought.
The information seared into her mind. The spell was going to slowly turn every human male in Scott's party, from Scott himself to his partygoers, into some form of gay "scene" subculture participant - twinks, bears, gym bunnies, muscle dads, the works - the spell itself bound to the building of the McIntyre Estate. It might even change the nature of the party. So many spells pieced together meant it would only finish the transformations by the tail end of the party - five o'clock in the morning, with two hours until the very end likely resembling a circuit party more than a bunch of seniors messing around into the wee hours.
And Lilah was unable to stop it at this point - not when she had already engaged the spell. The dust and darkness flew out, and dispersed. And Lilah was left sitting there, wondering what she just did. "Well." She murmured to herself, "What do I do now?"
"Lilah, are you okay up there? I know you wanted some time alone, but I made some delicious cornbread!" And...there was Grandma Edith.
Lilah didn't like it, but she knew she'd have to find some way to get over there and get the guys out of the house. If Grandma Edith found out she'd used a spell like that, and a spell with such implications at that...well, she might get more than a spanking. She'll make me marry Cthulu! She'll seal me in a tree! She'll send my soul straight to Hell!
And so she knew. She had to rescue her ex-boyfriend much as he might not deserve it - before the spell fully changed them. Then it would...probably be too late. That was how spells usually worked in these kinds of things.