Maybe just a little blackout.

Everything hurt. Max's eyes blearily started trying to focus on the ceiling and were mostly succeeding. Slowly. An unfamiliar ceiling though, that was mildly worrying. At least this one seemed clean and not falling apart.

Apparently alone, Max tried getting up and seeing where he was but trying to sit up set off a fresh wave of sore pain through his body. At least he didn't feel like he was tied down to anything, that was a plus. Pain aside, already better than his last blackout. What was he doing right before he blacked out? The twins? They wouldn't do anything to him, so... What happened?

After taking a minute to let the sore pain subside a moment, Max slowly sat up and took in the unfamiliar room around him. It was, at one time, probably a clean, tastefully decorated bedroom. Currently, it looked like Max had sex with the room itself, somehow. Were rooms female? Had he satisfied a room?

The sheets and the carpet for a good foot in every direction looked like they'd been drenched in sweat and cum, but who Max had been fucking? Had he been humping the bed that much? Picture frames had been used as projectiles at some point, the wall next to the door and closet were littered with them and broken glass. Literal scraps of clothes were strewn about the floor. Literal scraps, Max spied half of one of his favorite boxers in different corners of the room. Even Aunt Alison at her worst wouldn't literally tear the clothes off him like this.

Finally feeling like his legs could handle the difficult task of supporting weight, Max managed to stagger to the door and peered out. Thankfully, nothing too unusual was there except for the trail of dry precum and cum(?) that went down to the door leading to the bedroom he was looking out of. Did Max satisfy the hallway too? Way too many questions. Way too many weird questions were floating in Max's head. Even that one time he'd tried one of his cousin Ivy's "special" brownie (that she totally didn't make) didn't have him asking questions like this.

Apparently the hall led to a living room that looked vaguely familiar. It looked incredibly familiar, yet Max couldn't place it. Or the foot of the person that was visible. A small tingling of dread ran down Max's spine. Yeah, there hadn't been any blood yet, but he really didn't want to have his jizz and baby batter painted around a crime scene. Max went down the hall to see who was attached to the mysterious pale foot before him, hoping to find some answers.