Finding the right housemate can be such a challenge. I'd interviewed over a dozen candidates and so far none of them met my strict criteria.

I wanted someone my age or perhaps a little younger; they had to be chill, have a fun vibe and hassle free. I preferred if they were into similar hobbies as myself like music, sports or video games. I also preferred that they weren't super gym goers. My dream was a little shorter than average, maybe with softer boyish features and if he had a thick, plush ass. I'd be throthing at the mouth.

These high level specs were challenging enough. Yet my only mandatory requirement (which I'd of course failed to advertise) made it nigh on impossible. I wanted a "straight" roommate.

Converting the unwittingly curious was a favourite pastime of mine. Yet this time I wanted to go that one step further. I wanted to take my new friend on a journey from vanilla hetero to a rainbow loving slut. Maybe even dress him up and give him a new twink name.

Finding someone who met these unique criteria however was undoubtedly a challenge. Of course some candidates could be ruled out immediately. I knew they were straight and no amount of coaxing would convince them otherwise. Others were harder to tell.

I devised a small test to eliminate the narrow minds from the open. I feigned a sports injury, high up in my thigh. Shortly into the interview I'd begin applying a muscle relaxant cream. It almost always evoked a response.

Guys who were either too chill or too annoyed were either set in their ways or overtly oppressed. I knew I'd never convert these zealots. The few sluts who openly asked if I needed help were immediately put to good use but once their ass tapped out I sent them packing without so much as a call back. The real candidates, the ones I really wanted, were suddenly nervous and shy.

These gentle souls didn't know where to look. They squirmed uncomfortably as their eyes flicked between the floor, the wall, the window and my greased up muscular thigh. They were so adorably confused. It always got me so excited enjoying their guilty looks that inevitably a swell would show along my gym shorts.

Of course these guys were "straight." Sometimes they even had girlfriends. I knew I couldn't immediately pounce. And where was the fun in that anyway. I had all but lost hope until a perfect little candidate came into my midst. You…