Now you know what Rose meant about a dead girl's red carpet. Vivian has decided to make the entire presentation short and sweet. Short on details, and sweet on nonsense.
As far as the naked molehill is concerned -- it's something like an extranjorative chamber. Its sole utility is to degrade you, in reverse. It's a two-sided street.
Vivian's PowerPoint slides have a hyperbolic rhythm to them, like a repeating video game. Each slide is followed by an equally timed slide with an identical rhythm and similarly bouncing color.
The presentation is almost at a close on the purple curtain when Vivian pulls out her amp and plays "The Tick."
Not for the faint of heart. But it tickles Vivian's natural sexual morbidity circuit, and now that it's over, Vivian has its voltage recharged. She looks over at you, her clouded eyes steadily searching the blurry screen for something, anything, as the curtain goes down, and she takes the laptop from the vice president for presentation.
You have no choice. You have to sit through this searing panorama of Vivian's depraved mind. You see her playing that ticker-pop song full of cum and fucking having her way with the world. And you see her standing there right beside you, on the right side of the moderator's desk, completely motionless, as she votes on whether or not to charge Whitney with extortion.
She just takes her vote -- the one you gave her to give -- and motioned for the moderator to remove the offending sentence, which of course he did. This is all an act, part of the staged parliamentary procedure move to get that sentence stricken from the record. At the next break, the music to "Tick Tock" blares once more, from the player at the bottom of the screen -- which in turn is playing again the video of Whitney actually fucking Dalton.
Vivian's eyes roam the room, and she definitely notices the chair she's in right now. "Hoffa todo berserkersan, innit?" She says into her headset.
"Gimanabe makanoi," you say in response.
"Uh..." Vivian tilts her head. "...B
The winner of scenario 341, against all odds, was none other than the mysterious Ken Smith! To be playing the role of Mr. Scrabble champion in a game of H-bombs, you better believe... Mr. Scrabble! You can't be tripping over this guy's hilarious puns and backstops! Mr. Scrabble!!"
You hear a commotion as players scatter and players start to fall out of the seats.
"Whoops- sorry," Camelia says. "That meant for you, too. It was a surprise, too. I didn't realize you were so competitive."
You're beside yourself with grief and fear.
Darkbloom, you and Camelia sit across from Darkbloom.
"Alex and I have a problem," Darkbloom says. "Problem solved!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask.
"Problem Solved!" Another contestant shouts, raising his arms high above his head in the air. His opponents start to fall like flocks of sheep, clattering and falling to the ground like geese.
"For the record," you tell Alex. "I'm a solider."
"Oh, for sure!" Darkbloom says. "That's what Gustav wanted to know! I've answered all his questions! But that wasn't easy, you know..."
"Oh Jesus," Darkbloom sighs. He turns to Camelia. "I'm so sorry about having you and Amber on the quiz team. Let's see if you're any different..."
Camelia isn't apologizing for anything, but she does bow her head to you, cupping her hands over her face as if to make herself more at home.
"This isn't your fault," you tell her. "Aren't you the one who's distracted?"
"No!" Darkbloom insists. "But I would know!"
"You were always... like a... follower," Camelia says. "You know what I mean."
"I'm gonna have to kick your butt, Darkbloom, for sure," Darkbloom growls. "I know how much trouble I'm in. Look at these scores." He puts down his binder full of numbers, piles his things in a little rack and shuffles away.
"I know how much trouble you're in too," Camelia says. "I know you scored so well -- but look at the scores from the national quiz bowl championships. Look at them!"
I want to become Galatea and Makoto's plaything! Whatever you guys intend to do with me, don't let me stay aloof!"
"We'll take care of everything, as long as you keep your mouth shut," Whitney promises. "I swear to Christ, those lesbians do tend to act like they know what they're doing--" She glances over her shoulder and casts a wan glance at Darkbloom -- whose expression darkens, to say the least. "--and to think we even had an interview! God help us if we don't follow through!"
You take the bottle of champagne out of its bottle-glass case and pour yourselves another few glasses. When you make to to to the aperçu, Rose kicks you in the shins, hard enough to make a loud honking sound. You cushion the momentum with one hand, which still clings like glue to her shin. Then, grabbing the bottle's handle and bouncing it back and forth over your shoulder, you add: "Don't let go, though. We've still got time..." You wink at her as you tip the glass heavily to one side and knock it back just a tiny bit so that only fraction of the light covering its rim is reachable. "We've got time to kill, have we? Let's jam it!"
>[x] Let's make a midnight snack!
[ ] No, hold on -- this isn't a date, Rose. What's a chaste snack?
"You idiots!" You laugh, beaming. "Look at you. You changed my life!"
And she is -- in a way. Nowhere was this more true than when it came to Rose. You were as scary as she was at first, and she was your biggest fan. But over time, you found yourself falling in love with her; falling in love with her shopping for outfits, for missions, for the finer points of school life. You even fell for a bit of snobby sibling rivalry too, after your elder sister insisted on following you around campus in a bikini. There was never any real affection between the two of you, just mutual school jealousy; but it never faded, because you adored one another nonetheless. So when your older sister harangues you into doing something... something... you knew right away that you'd make her jealous.
"You creep me out every time you see her -- making me wear girly clothes," you grouse. "You are totally fucking creepy, Alabaster."
"I can understand that," Rose
It's common knowledge that Scarlett has an insatiable fetish for you," Marduk says from over the side of the dock. "But it's only now that you guys are coming to grips with just how good she is at it. Just how innocent she really is. I can't believe she's got a brain like that."
"Are you doing her a favor by giving her up?" Mom asks.
"What do you suggest we do with her?" You say.
"I don't know, Ally. I suppose we can keep her in the custody of the FBI. That's what Dalton Cantor is. But--"
"No, stop him. We have options. Sable Guiteau is a cyberpunk scion. She can be our family, too."
"Oh, please," Rose says. "What do you suggest we do with--"
You narrow your eyes at her. "What we do with her remains your business, Alabaster Soliloquy."
"Oh my god, you motherfucker," she hollers.
"I agree with Mr. Cantor," Darkbloom says. "No one else -- except perhaps Cerise, she's so insistent on being allowed to see her... you have every constitutional right to keep this girl, Alabaster." He looks at Rose. "I must also reiterate what I told you just now. My daughter is my property. As far as the federal government is concerned."
"Oh my fucking Christ," Rose says. "You can't tell the feds where she's headed, can you? If you give her to the FBI, they will de-legitimize her, and she'll never get a hearing."
"That is the intent," Darkbloom says.
"Excuse me?" Rose sputters.
"That is the intent." He turns to Cerise. "I'll have to go. But please know that you will be receiving Cerise again, at the moment of this review. I'm sure she's very disappointed to hear that she won't be seeing you again, but I trust the arrangement will be satisfactory."
"You're not telling us how to run our company, for fuck's sake!" Mom says. "We have employees now. We have to follow the money. You don't trust us, you want to keep the heat on us, just like you did with Dalton Cantor. We'll be your two cents. But -- we need you."
"When are you going to shut up about business?"
Based on what?
She sighs and pulls her panties aside, and the jist of her masturbating to this moment is that, to anyone fortunate enough to witness it, her pussy is visibly flushing.
With that sexual information in hand, Dr. Carte can devote herself completely to the task at hand. As the rows and rows of seductive cages spread out before her, her horny cunt throbs like butter in the presence of such an uncorrupted view... and her wetue alabaster head begins to tingle with such a heavenly bliss that it's actually painful. She's playing at being a proper slut. She's not even trying to mask the trepidation that lies behind her actions.
Just as her cunt's sexual excitement is sated, Whitney's foot hitches. She steps forth from the cage and walks over to where Dr. Carte is masturbating. The sight of this is enough to melt your heart. Your beloved wife returning from such an otherwise un-honorable separation... you just adore her so.
"Lick it, you drunken stupendous brat," she sneers.
Dr. Carte bows her head down and licks Whitney's pussy in an impatient way. The sight totally fucking shocking her, and turning heron, she licks Whitney's mouth and clasps Whitney's cheeks. All the while she leers at Whitney: "Lick her up... everyone licks pussy... just like that..."
Whitney, in a kind of break of pleasure, falls forward, and Dr. Carte's dainty pink tongue slides greedily into her mouth. The very texture of it has a weirdly sweet, over-stimulated bite. The kiss drifts slowly back to where it was, and then Dr. Carte is sucking as strongly as ever, still painting Whitney's innie to her will.
"Lick it... lick it~..." Dr. Carte pants, and squeezes her clit anxiously. "Oh God, Whitney... you have to be quick... oh FUCK, Whitney, you have to be quick... you heard the woman... oh fuck, Whitney..."
The lips of Dr. Carte's nose rest against the oval opening of Whitney's as she swallows Dr. Carte's girlcum with gusto no one else could possibly. Whitney's tongue in her mouth, she deposits it back where it belongs -- in the very depths of Whitney's bowled stomach.
up your ass.
"I could see that there..." she says.
"Let me show you," you say. "I need to see how bad you can get at this."
Gripping Alex by the shoulders, you haul him along. You lead him now by the arms again, over the back of the seat in front of him. You start at him, back and forth, and then you pull him right ahead of you.
"Now let me fuck your ass," you tell him.
Alex groans and tries to pull away. But you hold him tightly. He's so scared and needy, he never breaks any of the rhythm.
"What the fuck," he complains.
"I told you," you say to Cerise. "We're making him do it for you..."
"You're fucking my brother!" Alex says.
You nod. "How do we get rid of you?"
Alex stares at the ground, arms pinned absently behind his back. His breathing is racing, his heart is beating wildly. "I'm gonna have to say yes," he says.
"Nope," you say. "She's too fucking hot."
"Don't get me wrong. I like Alex. And he's good at this sort of thing. But there's more to it than that, too. This is a game, after all... don't misunderstand. I want him to cum inside me."
"That's enough, Ally. Stop it."
You and Cerise both glance to Alex from the rear of the car. He's clearly just standing there, looking at your naked ass, while you suck down on the strawberry milkshake. His face is still red and tear-streaked, no matter the temperature of the car.
With a steady belch of breath, he spits: "fuck, yes!"
"Do it," you command him. "You two have earned it."
Alex does it. You grab Cerise by either butt and wrap your arms around her, as if trying to pull her back.
"W-fuck," Alex grunts. "I'm gonna cum! I'm cumming!"
You get your arms back around her again - and your hands on her hips too, to keep her pinned down. A couple of you take turns raping Alex's ass.
"Ally! Ally!" he wails.
You and Cerise, both gasping, watch in the rearview as Alex cums in your two delicious asses. The three of you are cumming like a couple of girls in heat. And Alex is the hottest girl in the universe.
With your cum dripping off your tits and your butt bouncing up and down, you kiss Alex on the cheek. "You're a real pussy, Ally. Real wet."
Alex's face hardens. "Alabaster..." he says. "You think I don't know that you're a real pussy? You think I don't know that I'm a real cunt?"
He pulls back on Cerise's chest to look at his own cleft. Cerise's panties are pulled down and her little pouty lips still dangling through the fabric of her panties while he rims her out. She looks so beautiful in his eyes, the whole time. The expression on her face is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. His mouth droops with delight. When Alex pulls his fingers from Cerise's gaping ass hole, his face lights up in delight and it makes you hard again. Cerise, eyes still glued to her ass, mewls like a rabbit as he continues to lick. Alex cums harder and harder than he ever has in all these years. He doesn't seem to care he just ruined this woman's life, and ruined his whole day.
But your pleasure is in your eyes and your mouth, as you climb inside Alex right away. He gets on his back and hugs you close.
You wrap your arms around each other and he hugs you back as you get fucked. Every movement makes him shudder and he hugs you like he's a child, not man.
You are Alabaster Soliloquy, little prosculator of lesbianism.
You watch Alex's legs slumber with his head tilting forward and staring back at you. When you finally do get him completely back on his butt, he stares at them with that same expression of pure bliss you saw on his face from before.
"That was good, Ally," you tell Alex. "So close."
"Yeah. That was good." Alex's eyes are filled with genuine, loving, unthinking enthusiasm. "It felt good. Me and Alex-- that was fun, right? It felt like--"
"It wasn't fun, you dick-eating bitch," Cerise interrupts between groans of enjoyment.
"Well maybe it was fun for her," you grouse. Alex stops
As they walked down the beach one day, working behind the arc lighted by the ever-bally green strobe lights of the parasailing beach club's boat, Alex spotted her. And as she walked past, Alex spotted her: she was staring out at him. And he realized, that moment; that he was the reason she was staring at him.
She must have come to the nautical club that Saturday on Alex's suggestion.
She said that Darkbloom had given her this technique to discover the future of an organization by sniffing your underwater noise. Through testing, she learned how to sense the power of his Aura. She said that when she was a few, deep sleep, she would curl up around the glowing relic of his eye and drift off to sleep.
"Can you swim too?" Alex asked.
"I can't swim," she said.
"I can't either," he agreed.
The two of them scooched side by side up the beach towards their mysterious benefactor. The air in the parasailing club's boat was of varying degrees of clean, like a combination of shower and spa treatment.
The thing is, Alex really does have this Aura... it's more like it's flow is maybe a little bit weaker than Whitney's.
And so he asked her to check. To sniff it. She went with the flow.
When she brought her petticoat back off, she told him that she thinks he might be good for something.
He might be good for something... something really good.
Alex had a bad feeling about this.
But the more he thinks about it -- the more certain he feels it is.
He wants to be like Whitney.
He wants to be like you.
He doesn't know it yet... but he does.
He holds his hands up. "I'll do my best."
They circle one another.
"Alabaster...?" Whitney says.
Alex can only shake his head, and worry at his queen.
(Now it's your turn, Whitney.)
He holds out a palm up by his shirt. He reaches down and takes Whitney's hand in his. "I... I'm gonna..." he begins, but thinks it's best to let her think it through.
He takes Whitney's to his shirt, and they're joined now by Rose2, and, and.