Yes, I leave.

Finally, you have the papers you came for, and besides some uncomfortable moments of sucking and playing with rubber cocks, you are none too worse for wear.

You walk back up the stairs, pressing the red button (which, thankfully, lets you out of the basement) and you have a nice tall glass of cold water from the kitchen (screw it, he's dead, and you deserve some water after what the fucking house just put you through!) before heading out of the house and back to your car.

You drop the papers off at the lawyers office and continue on with your vacation.

But all during your vacation you wonder... "what if?"

You begin to have horny dreams. Dreams of you kneeling in front of the mannequin. Dreams of mannequin men having their way with you, their cocks thrusting deep down your mouth, and into your throat...

You can't stand it. Something has changed inside of you. You MUST go back to the house to try again. You cut your vacation short and start all over again.

And *this* time, you're going to see it through.