You are Alabaster Soliloquy, supporter of the male:succubus tag and rape survivor. #WatashiMo
Until now, you've never been inside the rebuilt North High. Even though the layouts of its halls and classrooms are exactly the same in every way as the old school, it creeps you out. Something feels wrong about it.
This is where Rose wanted to meet you after your shooting practice. (Which went as disastrously as you expected it would - you can't hit a target to save your life. Since you might need to do exactly that in the near future, it's a bit worrying.)
Rose is already there, of course. She's standing in the main lobby near the administration area - in front of a case that displays the portraits of every class president in North High's history.
"Did you leave your phone behind?" Rose asks.
"Yeah... did this really have to happen here?" You say.
"After that conversation you had with Darkbloom?" Rose says. "Who knows where he's got eyes and ears. This place seemed reasonably secure..."
You stand by her side and stare at the rows of portraits.
"Notice anything?" Rose asks.
"Yeah," you say. "Can we just get to the--"
"What do you notice?"
"You're going to make me say it? You are such a c--"
"Go on, now."
"My picture is missing."
"Why do you think that is?" Rose asks.
You turn on your heels and walk off. If this is all she wanted to do, just gloat, she can go to hell.
She jogs after you and grabs your hand, stopping you. "I had to clean up your mess, of course," she says. "Say what you want about my presidency, but at least the school didn't burn down under my watch."
"You're gonna blame the student council president for some random arsonist coming by to burn down the school?" You say.
"When that arsonist is the student council president?" Rose says. "Yeah. I am."
You grimace at her. "You don't know that."
"Of course I do. I'm not half as stupid as you think."
"I mean it," you say. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea what happened that night."
Rose searches your eyes for meaning, but you can wear a poker face when you need to.
"Be that as it may," Rose says, "I know you're not doing Camelia's dirty work because you're afraid she's going to leak your internet history. I'm not, either." She smooths her long skirt with both hands. "You may be the most pathetic person I've ever met, but even YOU don't deserve whatever she's threatening you with."
"Thanks," you say sarcastically. "I really appreciate your protection."
"I keep racking my brain over how Camelia knows so much about us," she says. "So much stuff that isn't online - at least, whatever happened that night isn't. So how does she know, then?"
You shrug. "It's on video."
"But she needed a reason to suspect," Rose says. "No one solves random cold-case arsons for fun."
"So... what, then?" You ask.
"It's that girl your sister talks to all the time. That weird redheaded bitch who keeps Cerise cooped up in her bedroom all night, every night - who won't stop texting with Cerise at work - your sister got catfished, Alabaster."
"Cerise is smarter than that--"
"Smart doesn't measure up to lonely. Your sister's friend is working with Camelia. I know she is."
It makes more sense than you'd like to admit. For all the contingencies you planned and the secrecy you swore, the gaping hole in your security ended up being Cerise herself.
"Tell me I'm crazy," Rose demands. "Give me one good reason not to pick the lock on her door and snoop through her chatlogs."
[ ] We're not going to do anything for now.
[ ] Go to Cerise and ask her directly about the situation.
>[x] Gather evidence and confirm your suspicions before confronting Cerise about it.
"You are not going to do anything," you growl. "You fucking psycho. I'll take a look at Cerise's computer and see what I can find."
Rose rolls her eyes. "Please. You're just gonna mess it all up, like usual, and come crying to me for help. Let's cut out the unnecessary extra steps this time."
"This conversation is over," you say. "I'm going home."
Rose circles around and blocks your path. You're utterly sick of her shit, and this is the final straw. You do it without thinking: you body check her and slam her against the display case. The force rattles the case and knocks some of the photos down from their frames. Rose falls to her ass and rubs her head, smarting.
"I'm not your slave," you tell her. "We're doing this my way."
Rose looks up at you, her eyes simmering. "You're a useless little shit, Alabaster," she says. "Without me you'd be fucking dead already. You should thank me."
You grab her roughly by the hair and squat, bringing your face level with hers. Your voice is low and firm. "Thank you," you say.
She spits in your face. Of course, this demands a response: you bash the side of her head against the cabinet again.
"I-I bet you get off on this," she says. She pulls back just a bit in your grip, so she's flush against the display case. She splays her legs a little too, and you can't help looking down: she doesn't have any panties on.
"You're disgusting," you tell her.
Her face is a mask of revulsion and barely-concealed lust.
You stand, and she can't help letting out a little whine.
"Fine. We can do it your way," you say. "At least if you get caught, you'll be the one catching Cerise's wrath. Let me know what you find."
"Just--" Rose stutters. "Just like that? You..."
"How many times do I have to tell you that it's going to happen when I decide on it?"
You turn and start down the hall. "Don't hurry to catch up," you say, and push through the double doors leading to the parking lot. Right before you do - faintly, you hear Rose knock her own head against the display case in frustration.
That evening back at the apartment, Cerise and Rose sit with you in the living room.
You call Kay's personal number as instructed. It rings three, four times before she finally answers.
"Kay Vera," she says. "This better be good. You interrupted my yoga."
"Hi," you say. "This is Alabaster Soliloquy. We met a couple days ago."
A long pause. Finally, she replies: "Yes we did. You almost mowed me down."
"That is not--" you begin, but think better of arguing. "I have some information you might want to publish. About my company."
"So you changed your mind about talking to the press. Why?"
"I saw something that - that really concerned me," you reply, reading straight from a script Rose prepared for you. She nods encouragingly as she watches you.
"All right. What is it?"
"No," you say. "Not like this. People might be listening." Thumbs up from Rose. Cerise is less enthusiastic. She looks anxious, and fiddles with the bottle of beer in her hands - her third in less than an hour.
"That's quite true," Kay hums. "Then let's try this. I've got a place I'm renting in Green Acres - I'll text you the address. Come see me Wednesday, 6 PM. And come alone."
"I fear for my safety," you say. Actually, you fear you come off as a bit stilted reading that line, but hopefully it lands. "I want to meet you somewhere public. How about the Rutabaga Cafe on--"
"I fear for MY safety, Alabaster. Darkbloom has people following me."
You look at Rose and Cerise with a worried expression. This wasn't part of the plan.
"All due respect," Kay continues, "but after the way you acted, I can't be particularly confident you aren't leading me into a honey trap. I'll talk with you, but only in a place where I can control the environment. Where I can make sure no one followed me - or you."
Camelia is not going to be happy about this.
[ ] I'll meet you at your place.
>[x] I'll only meet you at the place of my choosing.
[ ] Forget about the meeting entirely, then.
"I see," Kay says. "You either really are setting up a trap or something has you seriously spooked."
"Well?" You demand.
"Are you screwing with me, young man?" Kay says.
"No--"
"If you're screwing with me, you'll regret it. I'm not some two-bit hack blogger. I've covered wars, you know."
"I'm not screwing with you," you insist. "This is real. And it's big. And if you want it, you'll have to meet with me in public. How can I know you're not honey trapping me?"
"I swear to god..." she sighs. Then: "I'll call you back in a day or two. We'll talk soon."
With a click, she disconnects.
You're not sure if that's a good or bad outcome.
At work on Monday, you're sitting cross-legged on the floor in Sable's lab, trying to get SMATTERS to navigate a simulated beach at low tide (A bunch of cat litter and water in a kiddie pool.)
SMATTERS is on manual input mode right now, which means you're in command of the little thing, using an extremely complicated remote that you hold like a game controller. His neural net learns by doing, and uncertain terrain like this is an area that it's weak in. Hopefully you can make it better.
Ken is busy at a workbench, piecing together another disassembled SMATTERS unit. While he works, he whistles the theme song to DuckTales. Over and over again. Incessantly.
Alex comes by and watches you. "Ooh, that looks fun," he says. "Can I try?"
"Knock yourself out," you say, handing him the remote. He grabs it, then immediately plops himself down on the ground - right in your lap.
"I--" you begin.
He looks back at you over his shoulder. "Show me how to do it," he says.
You look to the sky and say a silent prayer for strength in this trying time.
You reach around Alex's thin frame and lay your hands on the remote as well. Carefully, with all of your focus on your hands, and none on the pressure of Alex's butt against your crotch, you demonstrate some basics. His hands are very small and soft and smooth beneath yours. He nods along enthusiastically as you show him several different axes of control and how to move the legs in tandem, how to direct the robot's line of sight, how to make it hop and sit.
When Alex tries for himself without your assistance now, he wiggles side to side and bites his lip in concentration.
Try as you might to stop it from happening, his excited motions in your lap have an obvious side effect.
"Alex..." you say. "Would you mind getting--"
"Hold on, I've almost got it!" He says.
"Would you mind--"
"It's getting close!"
You grab him by the shoulders. He startles under your grip, swiveling his head around to look at you again. "Ally?" he says.
"I need to get up," you say.
He tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy. "Err, all right," he says.
He scoots forward, freeing you from the tyranny of his inadvertent sexiness. You stand up and dust off the back your slacks.
Alex turns his attention back to SMATTERS, but before you can walk away he says: "you were ree-ally hard just now~ ... Weren't you?"
He sticks his tongue out at you. This innocent boy has a bit of the devil in him after all.
"Duck Tales, a-woo-oo," you hear Ken mutter to himself - oblivious to the world.
You check the time. Lunch is coming up soon, so you'll have a few free moments to kill.
[ ] Check on Rose's progress with spying on Cerise.
[ ] Hang out with Cerise for lunch.
[ ] Hang out with Alex for lunch.
[ ] Hang out with Vivian for lunch.
>[x] Hang out with Sable for lunch.
[ ] Hang out with Whitney for lunch.
You better make sure that half-crazy woman is actually eating, since it seems like no one else can bother to give a shit whether she does or not.
"How is the progress with SMATTERS?" Sable asks just as soon as you wheel up a chair beside her workstation.
"I don't know," you say teasingly. "Maybe some pizza would jog my memory. Do you want some, t--"
"No thank you." She hasn't even looked at you since you sat down.
"What do you like, then?" You ask. "Salad, hamburgers, grilled cheese?"
"Nothing, thank you. How is the progress with SMATTERS?"
This is like some kind of elaborate mental torture. "How is the progress with getting a bike?" You say. Anything to get her brain off work for more than two seconds.
No such luck. "This is not workplace appropriate discussion," Sable says.
Enough of this. You grab the back of her chair and spin it around so she's facing you, and not her screen.
"Answer quickly, then," you say.
Sable makes a cute pouty face, but then she does answer: "I purchased a bicycle this Sunday. A relatively cheap model since I may not like it. Only $7500."
Sometimes it's easy to forget that Sable joined the three comma club as a teenager. Her sense of money is a bit distorted, it seems.
"Great. And what kind of food do you like?"
But it turns out you're not the only one who looks after Sable. Alex comes in, apparently having slipped away to the cafeteria, and he's got a tray with three huge slices of pizza on it.
"Here you go, Ms. Guiteau," he says. "You should eat."
Sable points at a spot on her desk where Alex sets down a plate with Sable's slice. He offers you a plate too, and who could turn down a face like that? You take yours and start to eat.
It wounds your ego only a little that Sable instantly accepted pizza from Alex but wouldn't even consider it from you. Is that weird?
Alex nibbles at his food like a little bird, and makes cute little "om" sounds whenever he bites down. You half suspect he's a robot programmed to confuse wayward young men. Or maybe a succubus. Anything is possible, right?
Despite accepting the plate, though, Sable doesn't touch her food.
"You should eat, Ms. Guiteau," Alex says.
He might be sweet and thoughtful, but he isn't any good at imposing himself on others. Sable defers by asking him some work-related questions about the codebase for SMATTERS, and Alex lets the conversation move on. They yammer back and forth. Time to step up.
"Eat your food," you tell her, cutting into their conversation. "He went out of his way to get it for you."
"Ally!" Alex squeaks. "It's not-- I mean--"
"Is that so?" Sable says. "Am I treating him poorly again?" She glances at Alex. "Am I treating you poorly?"
"N-not at all!" Alex insists. He waves his hands in front of him. "It's fine! Eat at your own pace, Ms. Guiteau!"
Sable seems less than convinced. She takes the plate of pizza in hand and starts eating. And when she eats- she really eats. It's gone in less than two minutes.
"Does this satisfy you, Alex?" Sable asks.
He smiles despite himself. "I-- just want to make sure you stay nourished, Ms. Guiteau. Your brain needs energy!"
Sable nods and returns to her work.
There's still plenty of time:
>[x] Drag Sable away from her office to check out the recreational facilities. [x] [optional: take Alex too.]
[ ] Go somewhere with just Alex and let Sable work.
You try the method that just recently had some success: you grab the back of Sable's chair and spin it around. Then, still holding the chair-back, you wheel her to the front of the office.
She types at the air for a split second before realizing that you've ripped her away from her work.
"Where are you taking me?" She demands.
"Alex, let's go," you say. "We're going to have a little fun with Sable. For once in her life, she'll actually take a full lunch break."
You help Sable out of her chair. The look on her face is one of obvious annoyance, but she goes along with it all the same - mostly, you think, because she knows you aren't going to take no for an answer.
A few minutes later, Alex and Sable are hooked into leather harnesses, trying and miserably failing to climb the artificial rock wall that occupies a 200'x30' section of the wall in the far end of the rec area. The thing is so tall that it extends up several floors, with views to office windows above.
Alex is a little too short to do anything but try to hop from foothold to foothold, which meets with pratfall after pratfall. He can't make it any farther up than about halfway before he falls.
Sable is even worse. She has all the coordination of a baby, slipping time and again off the first couple footholds, before finally planting her feet firmly on the floor, folding her arms and not moving - her signal that she's had all she can stomach of bouldering.
After a particularly disastrous attempt on Alex's part that sends him tumbling backwards off the wall from almost 15 feet in the air, he hangs suspended by his harness, defeated, with all four limbs dangling beneath him under gravity's pull. He's at eye level with you, and despite his failure, he's having a lot of fun. You can tell because he says "this is so fun!" - for about the thirtieth time so far.
"I don't think our boss agrees," you muse.
"Hmmph," is all Sable will say. "This is the most frivolous waste of--"
"Fine, fine," you say. You nod at the trainer, signaling to him that it's time to unhook this odd couple from their harnesses. "But before we go back to work, let's give your muscles a chance to rest."
Sable eyes you warily. Alex kicks a little in the air to give himself momentum, and enjoys the swinging of his whole body back and forth like a pendulum. He giggles to himself.
"Let's check out the sauna, huh?" You say.
The sauna is coed but there are gender-segregated locker rooms to get ready in before you make use of the facility. Even in here, it's humid and sticky - from the heat wafting in through the short hall that leads to the sauna.
The locker rooms are kind of tiny - just a short aisle with two rows of lockers facing one another and a shower on the other side of one set. There's no real way to avoid getting naked in front of Alex. Well, when in Rome...
Despite having had, uh, first-hand experience with you, Alex blushes and looks away when your pants come off. He might be brazen in flirting but in a situation like this he's not so forward.
You do it quickly, and soon your dignity is preserved again by a white towel wrapped around your lower half.
But Alex is still more than just a bit timid, and he's still fully clothed.
"Well?" You say. "Let's get going."
(You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to do it in front of you, which is why you're lingering instead of just heading to the sauna room."
Alex pokes both index fingers together, demurring. "It's... a little embarrassing," he says.
[ ] Let him strip in privacy.
>[x] Stand your ground.
You fold your arms. "You don't want to keep Ms. Guiteau waiting, do you?" You say.
This shocks Alex into action. "N-no!" He stammers.
"Then let's go," you say.
He slowly slips his shirt off - as his arms rise above the level of his head you can see clearly now that his armpits are bare. Does he shave them or is he just incapable of growing hair there? You're not sure which one is more...
You try not to finish that thought.
His torso is lithe, without a hint of body fat or even muscle for that matter - and the curve of his hips is definitely more suggestive of the feminine than the masculine. At least, you want to think so. Alex is so embarrassed by now that he's visibly shaking as he loops his thumbs into the waistband of his spats. He glances back at you, his eyes pleading for at least a little dignity, but you just stand there. He bows his head and does it.
You can hardly believe what you see: Alex is wearing a pair of frilly pink panties.
You would say something, but you're absolutely gobsmacked.
"M-M-Ms. Whitney said..." Alex explains, his voice small and stuttering.
He loops his fingers in the waistband of these as well.
[x] No. Wear those into the sauna. [with towel / without towel]
>[x] Let him finish.
He slides the panties down his supple legs and stashes them in his locker. He turns around with his hands clasped over his genitals, just standing there, his face a neon red.
You only realize that you're gawking at him in awkward silence when he stutter: "M-Mr. Ally, please, a t-towel..."
(He seems to default to calling you Mr. in moments of vulnerability. It's too cute.)
You knock yourself out of your reverie and hand him a towel from the shelves beside you. He takes it, turns, and wraps it around himself. You never catch a truly full-frontal glimpse - but you do see his round and smooth little ass before he covers it up. You have to walk to the sauna with a hand over your own front to conceal what's lurking there.
Sable is there already, towel over her front and another over her hair. She's lounging back on the slatted bench, but when she sees the two of you enter, she courteously dumps some water over the heated rocks, sending up sizzling wafters of steam.
"Have you been in here before?" You ask her, sitting down. Alex sits between the two of you, still shaking with embarrassment.
"Once or twice," Sable says. It's hard to believe she's ever actually left her office, but it's nice to hear she has.
"My heart is beating really fast..." Alex says.
"It's the heat and humidity," you tell him. "You'll get used to it."
He seems a bit woozy though, and ends up leaning against Sable's shoulder for support.
"Alex is a bit of a pushover," Sable says, talking right past him. "Maybe he won't get used to it."
"Ms. Guiteau, that's mean..."
"It's just the truth," she says. She dumps a little more water over the stones.
You notice a little bulge in Alex's towel that wasn't there before. Did Sable's minor insult actually turn him on?
You snake a hand around him and pull him off of Sable, letting him lean against you instead. You chuckle to play it off as a friendly gesture, a buddy-buddy kind of thing. But a different instinct is taking over at this point, one you can't control. You let your hand come to a rest in Alex's lap so you can verify what you suspect.
Alex is no good at being surreptitious, though. "Mr. Ally, M-Ms. Guiteau is right here," he says. His flushed face is pressed against your shoulder and he's staring deeply into your eyes. His hands are balled up against his own chest.
Sable glances from you and Alex, down to his lap where your hand is. Whatever she concludes from how you're positioned, her face remains passive and undisturbed.
You whisper in his ear: "You're ree-eeally hard right now, aren't you?"
He winces and flinches at this. Revenge is sweet.
Sable may not have heard your words to Alex but she must have seen there was nothing chaste in how you spoke to him. "Are you two homosexuals?" She asks.
The question has no accusation in it - just curiosity.
Alex shakes his head emphatically no.
"What he said," you offer.
Sable considers this.
"Fascinating," she says. "You know, this room can be locked from the inside for privacy." (Here again: nothing but a kind of remote interest in her tone.) She stands and goes to the door, and you expect her to step out, leaving you two to your fun. But instead she throws the deadbolt, remaining inside. She sits back down beside the two of you and tosses a little more water on the stones.
"You're not suggesting something dirty, are you?" You tease.
"Do as you wish," Sable says. "Bonding can raise the morale of a working group."
You're not going to give her (or Alex) time to reconsider. You spread your legs, grab hold of one of Alex's hands and guide it to your crotch. Your cock is already hard.
"M-Mr.... Mr... Ally... i-in front of her?" he says. His voice is so tremulous that you can hardly decipher the words.
Your answer him by wrapping his hand around your cock. You dispense with the towel now, pulling it loose so it falls to the bench-top. Sable watches, passive as ever, as you coach Alex to work your shaft gently up and down.
You loop your arms around the back of the bench and let your butt slide forward just a little bit so Alex has even better access. He stares intently at your pulsing manhood, his other hand still balled up against his bare chest while he sets to work on you. Even in this heat and humidity, his little pink nipples are hard.
"You're large," Sable notes.
"Thanks," you say, glancing over at her. "You can join too if you like."
Sable just shakes her head a bit. A voyeur, then. That's ok too.
"Have you done this before?" Sable asks while you luxuriate in the delicious feeling of being jerked off.
"Once," you say. Alex smears a droplet of precum around the mushroom head of your dick and licks his lips hungrily.
"You had sex too?" Sable asks. Her impassivity is giving way - just a bit - to a slight catch in her voice that suggests her interest is motivated by more than morale, and that it's more than clinical.
"He sucked my cock," you say plainly. It's kind of fun to be so crass about it with your boss. Alex shudders at this.
"May I see?" she asks.
You grab Alex by the hair and guide him to his knees on the concrete floor. He crawls in front of you, using your legs to help him, and gets his mouth around the head of your cock. Just like that.
His method is a lot more sensual than it was the first time. You have a sneaking suspicion of why that might be. His little pink tongue laps the sensitive underside as he swallows you, inch by inch. He takes you as far as his little mouth will allow - about two thirds of your length - before he starts to gag horribly.
Sable scoots closer to get a better vantage.
"Do you like this?" You ask her. "Watching us?"
"There is something - alluring - to seeing Alex used like this," Sable admits.
Alex mewls around you, and the vibration sends ripples of pleasure through your dick. He's just happy to be of service, it seems. His spit is running in little streams down to your heavy balls. It feels nice.
"Have you ever had him use his tongue on your rectum?" Sable asks.
Alex's eyes almost pop out of his skull, but you like the idea. It's perverted and degrading. Somehow, you want to degrade Alex as much as possible, even though he's been nothing but nice to you.
"You heard your boss," you tell him. "She wants to see you lick my asshole."
You tug him off your drooling dick and get him underneath the bench. The slats are perfect for this. He presses his face up against them and worms his tongue out, licking your ass back and forth. He can barely reach it like this, but the wonderfully teasing sensation of it is enough to make you really enjoy it.
Sable's hands worry one another in her lap. This is definitely turning her on.
You bring Alex's hand up to jerk you off while he licks you. His palm slides smoothly up and down your lubricated dick, pulling your foreskin back and forth over the tip.
"Play with yourself if you want to," you tell Sable. "I don't mind."
She reaches into her towel without taking it off and starts to rub herself.
"How does that feel?" Sable asks you.
"It's great," you say. "Wet and hot. He sucks ass just as well as he sucks cock."
"Do you-" she begins, but stops.
"What?" you ask.
Her hand quickens against her cunt. "Do you mind if I try?"
"You want to lick my ass?" You say.
"No," she says.
Oh. She wants something entirely different.
You stand and tug Alex by his hand to where Sable sits masturbating. "Now her," you command.
Alex is panting like a bitch. His mouth gaping open and his face a slobbery mess. Sable pulls her towel open and surprises you by also standing - then squatting over Alex's face. Alex gets on his hands and knees to service her.
Sable's pussy is beautifully dark and swollen with arousal, her flat chest heaving with desire. Alex latches onto her ass without a word of protest and Sable grinds against him.
"I've always--" Sable gulps, enjoying the feeling of Alex's tongue inside her, before she continues. "I've always had this image in my head of making Alex do this. I don't know why."
"It's what he was born for," you offer.
"Yes," Sable agrees. "He's only good for--" she begins to stammer with pleasure - "f-for servicing his betters..."
"That would be everyone, wouldn't it?" You say.
"Yes," Sable says. Alex moans audibly and doubles down on his efforts inside Sable's asshole. She rubs her cunt, closes her eyes and lets her head hang back.
"Fuck him too," Sable says, lost in her own world of pleasure.
Alex pulls back a bit. "W-wait," he says, but Sable won't brook resistance. She pulls his face back to her ass and muffles his whining again.
You can't say no to your boss, right?
You get on your knees and pull Alex's towel away. His dick is twitching, pulsing and dripping lewdly. It's pretty short, but surprisingly thicker than you'd expect. Part of the reason for that, though, might be the small pink bow tied tightly around the base of it. You can guess who put that there.
You spread his pale bubble butt apart and enjoy the sight: a perfectly clenched rosebud in an unblemished shade of bright pink. You spit on the hole, causing Alex to shiver, which in turn causes Sable to shiver.
No stopping now. You push in. His ass gives way, but only slowly, so that inch by agonizing inch you have to push and grind and force yourself into him with all your might. Alex is bucking and sobbing in pain and trying to get away but there's no escape - he's pinned on both ends. Every struggle is met only by the vicious force of you and Sable spit-roasting him. You never knew she could be this perverted - happily raping her subordinate with the help of another person. She bounces up and down, rubbing herself all over his face to get off. Her hand is a blur against her engorged clit.
"Nnnn--" she moans, gritting her teeth.
You can't help moaning too, Alex's tender insides gripping you like a vice from every angle. You fuck in and out with quick, short strokes, but he's so damned tight that you quickly begin to wear out.
"Worthless," Sable spits, real venom in her voice. "You're worthless, Alex. Less than worthless." Though he cries at these words, his cock spits out little droplets of precum. He enjoys it after all. "Lick me," she says, again and again. "Lick me. Lick me!"
This is too much for you. You're going to lose your nut. Tired or not, you're so turned on that you need to get as deep up Alex's ass as you can. You pull his hands off of Sable's butt and hold him firmly by the wrists. Alex has no control at all now, his body taut between you and Sable. You pound him without mercy, giving him full strokes in and out that slam his ruined face back into Sable's rectum over and over.
Sable hisses in delight and cums - she's a squirter. Her girlcum splashes all over the place and - wanting to fully complete Alex's humiliation, she quickly turns around so that the sloppy mess explodes all over his face. He keeps his face upturned, mouth wide open and eyes half-lidded and lets Sable cum all over him like the bitch he is. She isn't extremely vocal but she has a huge volume of cum and she rubs squirt after squirt out of her spasming pussy. Alex tries to catch it on his tongue as it rains down over him but he can't come close to getting the whole volume of it.
"Fuck," you groan, unable to hold back. You pump once, twice and a final time - all the way to the hilt, your balls tight against his little boy butt - and let your cum erupt into his deepest parts.
Alex squeals, and in a girly voice he whines: "Yes! Please... please use me... please..." He fucks back against you and takes your cum with a huge smile on his face. And then despite the makeshift chastity device around the base of his own cock, he cums too - a thin little dribble that's mostly clear and drools in long strands to floor.
Sable collapses against the bench, heaving. You pull out of Alex and let him fall to the ground with a wet thud. You sit next to Sable, equally worn out as she is. Alex is the worst off, though, of course - he seems only half-conscious.
"I better get him out here," you say, breathless.
"Yes," Sable says, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of the defiled boy on the ground in front of her. "That's a good idea."
As you scoop Alex up, Sable says "Thank you for the enjoyable lunch break."
BOYS FUCKED: 1/1
A wise man once told you that honesty is important in any relationship. You immediately cop to Whitney about what happened in the sauna.
Well, you kind of have to: Alex had to take the rest of the day off sick after the abuse you heaped on him, and he was so exhausted that it fell to you to drive him back to his apartment. And since Whitney shares that apartment with him now, it was inevitable.
"You broke rule one!" Whitney whines. "Why you little..."
When you deposit a still half-conscious but deliriously smiling Alex in his bed, Whitney climbs into it with him and slaps his spat-covered ass. "Is it still in there?" She demands. "I'm gonna suck it out of him!"
"Good lord," you say. "I got him cleaned up before I took him back. Look, I'm sure you'll have other opportunities..."
"Right now!" Whitney demands, sitting hunched over on balled-up fists and staring up at you. "Fuck him again right now!" She bounces up and down for effect.
"You're like a child, you know? I couldn't possibly. Besides, it would probably break him."
Whitney looks back and forth from you to where Alex lies panting on top of his sheets. She still doesn't seem to understand the problem here.
"Listen, we need to talk about something else," you tell her. You gently guide her out of Alex's bedroom.
"What's up?" She says.
>[x] I just want to make sure you're not going to work for Dakrbloom.
[ ] I changed my mind. I want you to take the security guard job at Darkbloom Analytics.
And...
>[x] Also, I need your help. With Rose.
[ ] (Say nothing about Rose)
The last thing you want is to play into whatever sick plan David Darkbloom has. You don't trust him no matter how much he tries to play the ersatz father to you.
"I want to make absolutely sure you're not taking that job," you say.
"Geez, Ally. Don't you trust old Whitney?" She points at herself with both thumbs and smiles.
"Not particularly," you say. She pouts.
"Not on things like this," you clarify. "You have a bad habit of worming your way into places you're not supposed to be. It's really annoying, it's like you're making everything about you. Remember the quiz bowl final?"
"I saved your stupid butt!" Whitney says.
Well... that's true. Still, the point stands.
"It's dangerous at DA," you tell her. "And it's best to have at least one friendly person on the outside. You know - strategically speaking."
"Ohhh," Whitney says, nodding her empty head. "It's a strategery thing."
"Yeah..."
"Well you don't need to worry," Whitney says. "I already got a job at Whole Foods. I'll be shoving vegan hamburgers into reusable 'Save The Whales' tote bags all day for 12 entire bucks an hour. 12!"
She sounds way too happy about $12 an hour. Especially in this city.
"That's great news," you lie. "I always knew you'd wind up being a bag lady."
"Don't you know it!" Whitney agrees.
"There's something else," you say. "We have a problem. A Rose problem."
Whitney's initial suggestion of beating Rose to death was a little extreme. You got her to settle on something more to your taste. Having squared up about that, you return to work.
On your way across the street from the parking garage to the front gates of the DA campus, you run into Stackleford approaching from down the sidewalk. Is that fat little fuck following you or what?
"Alabaster! Thank you so much for introducing me to Sabrina," he says, panting as he jogs a little to catch up with you. "You're the best, man."
"...Sabrina?" You say.
"I know! Isn't it crazy that her name is Sabrina too? It's, like, a sign from the universe or something."
Camelia certainly knows how to get to Stackleford, the poor sap - not like it's a difficult thing to do.
"I don't want to say I'm in love yet," Stackleford begins. "But... it's looking pretty good!"
"What did you guys do the other night?" You ask.
"Tooled around with Kagome, ate some nacho fries, watched a little Attack on Titan... one thing led to another... bow chikka wow, am I right?" He does a repulsive little shimmy that makes his man tits jiggle.
You shake your head. "That's great. Did she ask you to do anything? You know, like as a favor?"
"Well... She did want to do body shots," Stackleford says. "I was like, 'what's a body shot? Are we gonna fight or something?' Right? Well let me tell you Alabaster, tequila has never tasted so good." He pauses, thinking. "Or so spicy. I don't really like tequila."
You sigh. Sometimes it's like pulling teeth with this guy. "Did she ask any specific favors of you, in return for sucking liquor out of her belly button?"
"Um... I'm not supposed to tell, is the thing," Stackleford says.
You grab him by the shirt collar and growl. "Don't fuck with me," you hiss. "She is not--"
You get cut off by the roar of a V12 engine and the squeal of tires. Camelia pulls alongside the curb in Stackleford's orange Lambo.
She gets out of the car, toting a huge number of bags labeled "Saks Fifth Avenue." With her hands full, she has to whip her head at high velocity to knock the pair of expensive-looking sunglasses she has on the top of her head, down over her eyes. (Or her eye, as the case may be.)
"Stacks, baby," she says. Is she affecting some sort of transatlantic accent? "Kagome's all yours again. Thanks for the lend!"
"N-no problem, Sabrina," Stackleford says, obviously abashed in her presence. "Uh, you two can talk I guess. I'll get out of your hair." He sits in the driver's seat and pulls away.
"Cool guy," Camelia says, watching the Lambo pull off. "Hope he doesn't notice that someone keyed the passenger side while I was in San Fran."
"Someone keyed his--"
"Let me be more precise," she says. "I hope he doesn't notice that I keyed the passenger side while I was in San Fran. Symbols of conspicuous consumption like Lamborghinis really piss me off."
You can only stare at the bags of high-end luxury apparel she has in both her hands.
"What do you want with him?" You ask, changing the subject. "Don't play stupid either. I know you're using him for something."
"Mostly just his car. And his money. He ate shit on Bitcoin, but he's got some pretty lush credit lines that still work." She hefts her bags a bit to indicate Stackleford's spending power.
"What about your Korean Superdollars?" you ask.
"Places like Saks Fifth still profit if I use fake money," she says. "They give it to the bank and it goes back into circulation, and no one ever knows the difference. But THIS way, they're definitely gonna eat a loss. There's no chance in hell that Stacklefuck can pay back the bill I just racked up."
She fidgets a bit, going from standing flat on her feet to standing on the sides of her feet, and then back again. "Does this perfume make you want to fuck me?" She asks.
You sputter. "What?"
"I need to know if I have the right musk for otaku pieces of shit like you." She steps closer. "What do you think? Would you throw me a bone?"
She smells like cherry blossoms in the rain with hints of the damp earth below. You recognize that scent.
"My mom used to wear that," you say, turning away.
"That doesn't answer my question," Camelia says. "This shit cost $200 for one freaking bottle, so it better get your dick up."
"You can't be a real person," you say. "You just can't."
"Seduction is an art," she says. "Maybe you should ask the twink who's seducing you for a primer if you're so confused about it. Hey, can you call me an Uber? I need a ride to the waste treatment plant on the other side of town."
[ ] Warn Camelia that Darkbloom knows about her.
>[x] Say nothing.
You oblige her request for an Uber without even asking what she wants to do at a waste treatment plan. Whatever it is, you figure you're better off not knowing.
The rest of the day passes quietly. Cerise is staying at work late to report on progress to her boss - Nelson Berenstoin. Apparently there was a little confusion over who her boss really should be, Nelson or Thaddeus, but the recent arrest of the latter (which is another high-profile scandal for the company) has at least settled the dispute.
You use the opportunity to catch up with Rose back at the apartment.
She has a small stack of printouts sitting on the couch beside her, marked with sticky notes and highlighted in various places. She's reading intently when you step inside.
"Really?" you say. "You printed it all out?"
"It's better this way," Rose says. "Less of a digital trail. And it was easier to port the log files over to a flash drive then print them out later, rather than sit around in Cerise's room on her computer reading her shit."
Well. She's got a point. "When did you get the chatlogs?" You ask.
"At lunch. I snuck away."
"Sneaked," you correct her. "Snuck isn't a real word."
"Fuck you, Alabaster."
"So?" You say, taking a seat beside her. "What did you find?"
"Well, it's 50% complaining about anime they don't like," she says. "Then probably about 25% is hours upon hours of rather graphic speculation over what a penis might feel like--"
"Bullshit," you say. You grab one of the printed pages.
>gman: [1 attached image]
>SakuraDokuhaku: Ooh that's a good one
>gman: right
>SakuraDokuhaku: What do you think?
>gman: probably it would hurt
>SakuraDokuhaku: Maybe.
>SakuraDokuhaku: I was trying to think the other day about what it would be like and I bet it's something like... velvety hard? That would be a good way to describe it probably.
>gman: oh i like that
>gman: pretty warm too i think
>gman: like a radiating warmth you know
>SakuraDokuhaku: And if it hurt, would that be so bad?
>gman: i mean... pain
>gman: thats bad right
>SakuraDokuhaku: That might make it kind of more fun.
>gman: explain
>SakuraDokuhaku: Well if it hurts a bit that just heightens the pleasure. Right? It's like... if you were completely full and you felt like you might break open even... that would be the best.
>gman: ok youre crazy
>SakuraDokuhaku: I'm sorry I'm getting carried away.
>gman: i didnt say it was bad
>gman: youre convincing me
>SakuraDokuhaku: This conversation is making me a little hot
>gman: me too
You let the paper fall to the couch, grimacing.
"The other 25% is Cerise talking about her personal life," Rose says. "Which isn't very much to talk about. Just how bored she is at work, mostly. But she does spill a couple beans. Here."
She hands you another paper that she's highlighted some lines on.
>SakuraDokuhaku: I just hate the way he... ok it's time for some real shit.
>gman: go ahead
>SakuraDokuhaku: He acts like he knows everything.
>gman: thats what little brothers do
>SakuraDokuhaku: He doesn't even care how it makes me feel.
>SakuraDokuhaku: But he's so successful now. I'm not going to stand in the way.
>SakuraDokuhaku: And I feel so guilty.
>SakuraDokuhaku: I mean we did some shit together. Serious shit.
>gman: whats that
>SakuraDokuhaku: I can't tell you that. But it was bad.
>gman: you can tell me anything
>SakuraDokuhaku: I really can't tell you... well I don't want to type it out.
>SakuraDokuhaku: Is your anxiety good enough today to cam up?
>gman: yeah
>Incoming Video Chat from gman
"Goddamn it," you mutter. "She told this girl everything."
"Looks that way," Rose says. She glances at you. "Cerise occasionally sends her little internet friend little gifts in the mail. The packages go to a post office box in Oakland. She's not far."
"What are you saying?"
"I want to talk to this dumb whore directly," Rose says. "Find out exactly what she's up to, straight from her mouth. I think the best way to lure her out is to send her a message on Cerise's account that there's a surprise waiting for her at that PO box. Then get the jump on her."
"That... can't be a great idea," you say.
"Or we could just call her on Skype," Rose says.
[ ] Do nothing.
>[x] Lure her out.
[ ] Call her on Skype.
>SakuraDokuhaku: I bought you a little something
>gman: really
>gman: wow thank you!!
>gman: what is it
>SakuraDokuhaku: It's a surprise.
>SakuraDokuhaku: Amazon says it just got delivered so go get it!
>gman: oh my gosh
>gman: thank you!!!
>gman: i love you
You glance up at Rose. "Is that romantic love or a female bromance kind of love?"
Rose shrugs. "They say it to each other a lot, but I was never clear about which way it went."
>SakuraDokuhaku: I love you too
>gman: <3
Just like that, the trap is set.
You sit across the street from a post office in Oakland. It's a... seedy part of town, to put it mildly. Hobos congregate on the dead grass on the side of the street where you're parked.
"She said she was coming right away," you say, peering impatiently at the post office's front doors. "Where is she?"
"Just have patience," Rose says. "I'm sure she'll--"
She freezes mid-sentence when you both see something that makes your stomach drop.
Camelia walks up the steps and enters the post office.
"Well, that settles that question," you say. "At least we know they're working together. It must be Camelia doing the pickups."
"Damn..." Rose says. She snaps a couple photos with a portable camera. (No phones - too risky.) "Should we go back home? Or follow her?"
[ ] Go back.
>[x] Follow her.
You pull the car around the little quad of dying greenery so it sits further back from the entrance and she won't see it as easily when she leaves the post office. A few minutes later, she comes out. Looking at her through the zoom on the camera's viewfinder, she seems confused.
She walks down the sidewalk a ways and gets into the beat-up sedan you saw her in after your interview at DA. Big step down from Kagome.
You tail her a couple blocks until she parks in front of an equally seedy apartment building.
"Damn," Rose says again. "Damn, damn..."
"What is it?" You say.
"Don't you recognize the address? This is where she went when I followed her a couple days ago."
"This is Camelia's place?" You ask.
"Maybe... or maybe they share it. Or maybe she was only going to visit this person the day I followed her."
No time to wonder.
"Do you have your gun?" You ask.
Rose nods. "How about you?"
"It's probably safer if I'm not carrying," you tell her. "I'm just as likely to hit you, if it comes to that."
"Pussy," she says. But she relents on this point. You step out and head toward the apartment.
Camelia, or her friend, really do live on the wrong side of the tracks. The apartment sits on a block that smells like sewage. The sidewalk is strewn with garbage and more hobos huddle near an alley. You're not at all surprised.
As you approach the apartment building, a fat, balding, middle-aged man comes walking out and down the short stairs leading from the entrance.
When he gets to the sidewalk, he leers at Rose and gives her an honest to God wolf whistle. "Are you the new girl?" he says. "Damn, Moscow doesn't know what they're missing--"
Rose pulls her pepper spray from her skirt pocket and maces the man without any hesitation.
"GAHHHH---" he cries in agony, falling to a fetal position on the grimy concrete.
Rose steps blithely past him. You stand there gawping at the man as he rolls back and forth cursing. But Rose has already disappeared inside the apartment building, so you step over the man too, and join her inside.
"You can't just go around macing people like that," you tell her when you catch up.
"That man was about to rape me. I almost got raped. It was self defense."
"You have a sickness, Rose. You're mentally unwell."
"Here we are," she says, stopping at one of the landings and peering down a short hall leading to two doors. "She's in one of these units."
"You don't know which one?"
"No, Alabaster, I don't. That's why I said 'one of these units' rather than 'this unit.'"
From the closest door comes the sound of unlatching locks, and suddenly you're face-to-face with a tall brunette woman wearing only lacy lingerie. She looks you over appraisingly. Another woman's voice in a foreign language, muffled, calls after her from the inside of the apartment. She turns a head over her shoulder and calls back: "He клиeнт. Я дyмaю, чтo oни здecь, чтoбы пoceтить oтшeльникa."
She slams the door shut and locks it again.
"Well. That tells us which apartment to check first, I should think," Rose says.
"Is this place some kind of bordello?" You ask.
Rose frowns.
You step up to the other apartment and raise your hand to knock the door, but Rose swats your arm before you can.
"What the fu--" you begin, which she cuts off with a hissed "fuck you!" in return. Sometimes your repartee isn't all that witty.
She reaches for one side of her ridiculous hairdo and pulls out a bobby pin. Using her mouth to help her, she unkinks it and bites the rubber cap off one of its sides. She spits the little piece of rubber and holds the makeshift lockpick up in front of your face.
"We're going in by stealth," she says.
You know that she really can jimmy a locked door - over the years, she's done it to your bedroom in the Mallory home many times.
She takes another bobby pin out of her hair and bends it into an L, and gets to work picking the lock.
Soon after, her pick snaps off in the mechanism as someone unlocks the apartment from the inside. Rose's eyes bulge and she steps back. The door opens.
Camelia stands before you.
She slips past the door and shuts it behind her.
Rose fast regains her composure and doesn't let on any hint of intimidation. "You're going to stop threatening us," she says.
"I like this girl," Camelia tells you. "She's got spunk."
"Are you listening to me?" Rose says. "We're done with your dirty work. Get out of our lives."
"Is this how you fight your battles?" Camelia asks you. "Send your girlfriend to do it for you? Some man."
"We're not really dating," you and Rose say in unison.
"Right," Camelia says. "Hate to disappoint, but my partner isn't taking visitors right now. So why don't you just get out of here and go be not-really-dating somewhere else."
Neither of you move. Camelia makes rather a show of her frustrated sigh.
"It's like this," she says. "Alabaster is going to do what I tell him to do, or you'll both spend the rest of your lives regretting it. I don't really care what path you choose here. But that's the reality you face."
"I want to meet your partner," you say. "If I'm going to work with you, I deserve to know who else I'm roped in with."
"I told you, she's a silent partner. You don't want to meet her anyway." She shrugs. "She's a literal troll. Total mom's-basement type. All she wants to talk about is her hacker-cracker bullshit and her vape collection. The only reason I put up with her is because I have to."
She takes out a cigarette, cups her hand over the tip to help light up. She puffs on it, the cherry glowing bright. "By the way, it's real fucked up what you did, catfishing her like that. Cerise is her only friend. She's heartbroken about this."
"This is absolutely--" Rose begins. Then she stops, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I can't take this conversation seriously right now. Are you wearing a shirt that says 'Honk if You Love the Juche Idea'?"
Camelia looks down as if she's noticing her own shirt for the first time. "Oh, yeah," she says. She looks back up, grinning. Then she reaches out and grabs Rose's left tit.
"Honk," Camelia says.
Rose slaps Camelia's hand away, her face red with indignation. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're dealing with the wrong--"
"I thought you'd like this shirt," Camelia cuts in. "I wore it for you. But I can go change into my 'Kulaks Deserved It' tee if you'd feel more comfortable with that one."
"I'm done with this nonsense," Rose says, and tries to cut past Camelia, reaching for the doorknob.
Camelia instantly pushes her back, grabs her by the throat and forces her to the wall. You have an uneasy flashback to how Mara Darkbloom did the same to you. Rose reaches for the gun concealed in her waistband but Camelia is quicker and grabs it first.
"I don't think you understand," Camelia says. Her cavalier facade is totally gone, replaced with menace.
You step forward without thinking, to haul Camelia off of Rose (not because you care about her or anything). Without even looking at you, Camelia points Rose's gun at you, freezing you in place. She keeps the barrel trained on you as she stares Rose down.
"Should I choke you harder?" Camelia says. "Your FetLife profile says you like it like that."
"Y-you--" Rose says. "You a-are going to p-pay--"
"Does it fill you with shame, Rose, that this cowering wimp is the only person who can get your cunt wet?" Camelia tilts her head to one side and gauges Rose's reaction to this. Rose shakes violently, claws uselessly at Camelia's hand around her neck. "I know I'd be ashamed. Especially if he was my own cousin--"
"Once removed," you offer. Camelia looks over at you as if she actually cannot believe that you really exist, then back to Rose.
Rose gulps. And though her voice is pinched, she manages to choke out: "I'm not afraid of you. I dare you to try to kill me. You'll regret it."
"I would never do that," Camelia says. Rose seems satisfied with this - then Camelia continues: "If you make any more trouble, though, I will kill him."
Rose stops struggling. Her hands fall to her side and she goes still.
"I'll kill him," Camelia repeats. "I'll tie you down and make you watch while I cut off his head with a hack saw. Don't think I won't."
The expression on Rose's face is almost as frightening as Camelia's threat to murder you. You've never really understood the concept of dead-eyed rage until now.
"Tell me you understand," Camelia says.
"I understand," Rose says. There is nothing, nothing at all of human emotion in her voice. It's a voice as dead as her eyes.
Camelia lets her go, steps back, and looks her over. She seems to be happy with what she sees. Rose, motionless as a stone, stares back.
"I'll be in touch," Camelia says. "Don't come back to this place. My partner owns every security camera in a two mile radius so we'll definitely see you coming."
She opens the door of the apartment, slips inside, and locks it behind her.
"Are you okay?" you ask Rose.
Rose's head swivels to regard you.
"Camelia has to die," she says.
END OF EPISODE 5.