You are Alabaster Soliloquy, billionaire bishonen and campaign manager.
Cerise sits at the center of the long dining room table, staring at a three-tiered cake baked personally by you and Mom. The number 26 burns atop it. You and the rest of the partygoers are crowded around, finishing off a rendition of "Happy Birthday" by performing the requisite encore, Rose harmonizing in a surprisingly skilled mezzo-soprano:
"For she's a jolly good fellllow" -- "(Fellow~)" -- "For she's a jolly good fellllow" -- "(Fellow~)" -- "For she's a jolly good fell-ell-oow---"
A pause from the revelers now, as you all regard the birthday girl; but Cerise's eyes are fixed firmly on the cake, her face a deepening red.
"Which nobody can deny!" -- "(Deny~)" -- "Which nobody can deny!" -- "(Deny~)" -- "Which nobody can deny!"
Cerise sighs, a look on her face like someone who has entered their garage only to find their car sitting up on blocks and the water heater leaking and the pet lizards all dead in the terrarium.
Mom prods her shoulder. "Make a wish, dear."
Cerise thinks. She draws a deep breath as if to blow the candles out, but then stops, and thinks some more instead.
Then she springs to her feet and flees from the room, sobbing. The wake of her exit ironically snuffs the candles out anyway, and the after-scent of singed wax fills your nostrils.
"Cerise -- wait!" Dr. Carte calls. She follows her out. Can never stop babysitting her, for any reason, even now.
"This is as I warned," Fazil says solemnly. "It is true across all cultures. Women are sensitive about aging. We should have used a 0 rather than a 6, as a gentle joke to defuse the tension."
"Goddamn it," you mutter. To occupy your hands, you pull the burnt-out candles from the fluffy whipped icing and set them on a nearby napkin. The rest of the guests are various mixtures of perplexed, embarrassed, and saddened. Only Amber, in the back of the room towards the walls, is anything like unfazed; she plays on her phone without paying attention to the outburst. Contrast this against Alex who vacillates between following Cerise as well or not, and settles instead on nervously fidgeting with his shirt sleeves. Or Mom, who's actually tearing up, Charlotte trying to console her with a borrowed tissue. Or Vivian who glumly turns from the table and towards the tall windows facing the patio, to peer out at the bright late-summer morning and contemplate something, probably along the lines of life's essential futility.
Saul clasps a hand on your shoulder: "You should go make sure she's okay," he whispers.
You hate to admit when he's right, but he is.
"Uh..." Whitney begins, clearing her throat, catching everyone's attention. "Is anyone going to dive into this cake or what?"
When she receives nothing but awkward murmurs and diverted gazes, she picks up a pie knife.
"Fine," she says. She cuts a big slice from the top tier. "I'll do it myself, then. Can't let a perfectly good cake to go to waste, can we?"
---
You can hear, thinly, the conversation inside Cerise's room from the other side of her door.
"It's not like that. You're still young. You're in your 20s for goodness sake. You want to feel old? Just wait until you get to my age!"
"I'm so fucking ancient -- Jeeesus. Where did my life go?" Cerise has a frog in her throat from the tears that continue to flow.
"Come on, now. Let's get you out of here. We can go do something fun!"
"Like what?"
"Anything. What do you want to do?"
"Die. I just want to die..."
You've had about all you can take of Cerise's woe-is-me act. You barge in, stride to where she's sitting on her bed, and grab her by the arm. She clutches at your wrist with her free hand and tries to wriggle free. But you're much stronger, so you win out -- you haul her up from the bed and drag her bodily from her bedroom. She stumbles and stomps to keep up with your brisk pace.
"Let go of me, Alabaster! What the fuck!" Her eyes are still red and rheumy. She sniffles back her snot.
Dr. Carte is following the two of you out into the hallway. She's smiling. At least someone here is amused.
"Let's go," you say. "We're gonna have a good day today. You're gonna open birthday presents, eat birthday cake, and do birthday things."
You let Cerise struggle free of you for now. She steps back and stands up straight, facing off against you at the top of the staircase. "Who the fuck made you king shit of birthday mountain?" She snarls.
"I did. Boo hoo, Cerise, you're 26. Are you gonna mope about it until you're 27?"
She throws her hands up. "So what if I do? What business of it is yours?"
"He just cares about you, Cerise," Dr. Carte offers.
"He's got some way of showing it!" Cerise rubs at her shoulder, apparently sore from the rough treatment. "Dragging me around like a sack of potatoes. So brotherly."
"I spent over $100,000 on your birthday presents this year," you say. "The least you can do is act like you care."
Cerise is momentarily cowed by this. She glances away and her hard expression disappears. But then she tries: "We're billionaires... $100,000 is nothing to us."
"What's the matter with you? Nothing is different today. Everything is just the same today, as it was yesterday. Age is nothing but an arbitrary number--"
"Oh! Now there's an argument you're used to making, huh?"
"It's true! It's emphatically true!"
"I'm just so sick..." Cerise says. "I'm sick of being a ticking time bomb. I'm sick of being this burden you guys keep having to babysit... I'm sick of this thing inside my eyeball."
You study her face. She's on the verge of tears again, her lips quivering, and she can't meet your gaze. You turn to Dr. Carte: "When are we going to hear back from Gustav?"
"It should be soon, but your guess is as good as mine. I sent a priority envelope with Gal's suggestion in it, but no word yet."
You frown. "Gal? Since when did you and Galatea get that chummy?"
"Never mind that," Dr. Carte says. "I'm sure it'll be soon."
Cerise shakes her head. "It's a hail Mary. What if this Gustav person can't help me, either? I'm just stuck being half a person for the rest of my life?"
You pull her close, both hands on her shoulders. "Stop it. I can't have you doing this 'I want to die' thing. Do you understand?"
"But--"
"I'm not good at this shit..." you grouse. "But... look. I already know what it's like to lose you. I lost you once already. I lived without you in my life for more than a year. And..." You gulp, trying to find your words. "Even though you can be such a pain in my ass... such a bitchy, shit-taste-having fujo of a sister -- you're my sister. I -- I need you around. What the fuck good is Alabaster Soliloquy without Cerise Soliloquy?"
"Well," Cerise says, voice soft. "Alabaster Soliloquy is already a pretentious asshole who never grew out of moeshit and still thinks he's got the right to criticize other people's taste. So."
"So," you say, "just imagine what he would be like if he didn't have his older sister to bitch at him sometimes."
She looks up suddenly, and lurches forward, and kisses you deeply. It's a kiss that tastes of toothpaste and mouthwash, that almost but not quite masks the taste of last night's stale beer. Despite that, you return it, squeezing her shoulders, and inhaling deeply. She's lovely and warm against you. Dr. Carte can't be too surprised -- and she can't judge you either, given her own exploits. So you don't care that you've got an audience.
Except now the audience of one becomes an audience of two.
"I just wanted to check on Cerise," comes Mom's voice as she ascends the stairs. "Is she all r--"
You and Cerise pull away from one another and quickly try to assume a nonchalant stance -- but it's far too late for that. Mom's eyes are saucers as she stands frozen on the top step.
"O-oh..." she finally stammers. "Excuse me..."
She turns and practically runs down the stairs.
"Fucking stupendous..." Cerise grumbles.
You shrug. "Okay then... plan B. Suicide pact?"
Downstairs, Cerise opens the small mountain of presents. Mom sits in the corner, avoiding eye contact. Cerise is glum, but for reasons the rest of the guests couldn't possibly suspect.
"I'll help you set it up, iff'n you want," Ken tells Cerise as she puzzles over the drone he got her.
"I think I'll be able to figure it out," she says, trying to force a smile.
"Ayup," he agrees. "I reckon you've got the aptitude for it."
---
"Lifetime free lunch buffets at Sizzler... thank you, Tyrus..."
"Don't mention it. -- Uh. For real though. Don't mention it to anyone else. And only use it at the ones here in town."
---
"Oh my gosh -- all 23 volumes?" Cerise's smile here is genuine as she unwraps the first-run tankÅbon collection, every single volume of Fruits Basket in the original Japanese. The anime was one of Cerise's first (yours, too, since you had a habit of sneaking her VHS tapes).
"Open the inside cover of volume 1," Nelson says, proud of himself.
"Signed, too!" Cerise marvels. "Holy shit."
She hugs him. He winces at this; not a very touchy-feely person. Stepping back and pushing his glasses up his nose, he says: "it's the least I can do for one of my best employees. Happy birthday, Cerise."
---
"Uh. Thanks." Cerise glances back at you, unsure what to do with what Stackleford has just handed her: a cellophane-wrapped collection of hot sauce bottles with names like "Colon Blow" and "Ass-Blastin Ghost Pepper Sauce." Cerise has never indicated a particular love of spicy food, so how he got it in his head that she would want this is beyond you.
"Yo, no need to thank me. Stacks has you covered."
"He sure does," Cerise says. She purses her lips.
"But, uh. You can hug me too. If you want." He holds his arms wide.
"I think I'm good."
"Oh."
"Thanks anyway."
He lets his hands fall to his side.
Amber glances up from her phone for the first time all day. "Is that Colon Blow?"
Cerise nods.
"Love that shit," Amber says.
"Amber!" Mom chides. "Language."
"Can I have it? I'll pay you back."
"Amber!" Mom says again. "You can't ask for someone's birthday presents--"
But Cerise is just fine with that. She hands the whole package to her. Stackleford looks somewhat aghast and heartbroken, but says nothing.
Rose2 makes a sour face. "You better not put that in my contact solution like last time," she says.
Amber sticks her tongue out at her older sister. Then, looking down at the hot sauces, she laughs: "Heeheeh. So good. I'm gonna be pooping fire for the next year. Awesome..."
You grimace.
---
"For the girl who has everything!" Alex says.
"You cheeky little bitch!" Cerise laughs. "This is so cool..."
She marvels at the new coffee table that Whitney just crowbarred free of its enormous shipping crate. It's a big sleek metal thing with a glass inlay on the top, showing the periodic table of the elements -- each square containing an actual sample (that explains the radiation stickers on the crate).
Cerise might rib you for being a dork, but this is precisely the kind of dorky shit she loves, too.
"Do you like it?" Alex says.
"Of course I do. Come here--"
She grabs him before he can get away, and gives him a noogie. He protests, but seems to enjoy it.
---
"Wait a second. Comiket is in America now?"
"Oh goodness," Rose says. "I should cherish this. I know something more than this house's resident weeaboo #2."
Cerise examines the confirmation slips. Rose bought three VIP passes to winter Comiket in LA, and Cerise's first question is the same as yours: "Why three?"
"One for you, one for Alabaster, and one for me."
"Since when do you care about anime conventions?" You demand.
"The VIP pass guarantees you get first priority at a lot of special events," Rose says. "And rumor has it that ZUN is going to be there. Naturally, I'd like to meet him."
You roll your eyes. The day Rose saw you trying to play one of those games will forever live in your memory as one of your worst mistakes. The chain of events it set off almost led to your downfall as President of the NHS StuCo...
---
"It's really quite something," Charlotte says, "They have so many different troupes that come through. You can see everything from Shakespeare, to Cirque du Soleil, to standup comedy, to opera... it's fully worth the money."
Cerise hugs her. She may not get much actual use out of a season pass to the local theater, but she appreciates the sentiment all the same.
"By the way," you ask. "How was court?"
Charlotte sighs sadly. "The judge didn't like us. We'll have to appeal... the FBI investigation will continue, for now..."
"Don't worry. I've got another idea," Saul says. "If Uncle Sam wants to keep pushing us over this -- there's a great Third Amendment argument to be made against granting the US Military access to the Sand Reckoner platform. We can do a little tit for tat and force the government to back off if they want to keep using our tech."
"This again?" Charlotte says. "Saul. Please. Let's focus on less specious avenues of attack."
Saul addresses you rather than his wife: "It makes perfect sense. If soldiers are allowed to instantly trawl our personal data, then are we not, in some sense, being forced to quarter soldiers? It's a clear violation of the constitution--"
Charlotte isn't buying it. "It's honestly a sickness at this point with you, Saul. I'm serious. Why are you so obsessed with getting the first landmark case on the Third Amendment?"
"It has nothing to do with that!" Saul insists. "Alabaster, forgive her. We both know that Charlotte isn't exactly a titanic legal mind. So of course she doesn't understand the essential point--"
"Oh!" Charlotte shouts. "I'm sorry. How many times have you argued before the Supreme Court again? Refresh my memory. Because I'm pretty sure the score there is 2-0!"
"You're perfectly correct, dear," Saul says. "And the score on cases lost at the Supreme Court is also 2-0..."
"You didn't seem so goddamn smarmy about it when you were asking whether I could get Anthony Kennedy's autograph -- BOTH times I went..."
Oh, would you look at the time. It's noon. Must be time for Saul and Charlotte to spend a few hours bickering. Saul tries to be the bigger man, and walk away, but Charlotte won't let him. She follows him right out of the dining room and into the living room, and the muffled sounds of their shouting underpin the rest of the festivities.
---
The guests are thinning out and going home. Cerise hasn't opened your presents yet, but that's by design.
Amber and Rose2 are hanging out by the front door, bored and antsy to get going. Mom hugs Cerise goodbye -- things are still a bit awkward.
"Are you -- feeling any better now?" Mom asks her as she steps back from the embrace.
Cerise struggles with how to answer. "Yeah... it wasn't -- I mean --" She trails off and rubs her elbow. "I'm fine."
"Good. That's good."
Mom glances between you and Cerise. "I--" she begins. She seems conflicted. But then something seems to settle in her mind. She smiles wanly, but warmly: "be safe, you two."
"Mom?" Cerise says.
She hugs Cerise again, more tightly, and emphatically. Then you. She puts a hand on either of your shoulders. "I just want the both of you to be happy. As long as you're happy... well. You're adults."
You look away, abashed. Mom lets go of you. "Happy birthday, Cerise."
She kisses Cerise on the cheek, hugs her again for good measure, and leaves.
You turn and watch Whitney as she struggles to lug the new coffee table into the living room. Alex tries to help, but it's clear who's doing the heavy lifting here.
"Pivot!" Whitney howls.
"I'm trying, Ms. Whitney--"
"Goddamn it, you bitch-ass twink! Hold your end!"
"Sorry! So -- sorry-- agh--"
"What now?" Cerise asks.
[ ] Let's go to Gal's.
[ ] Let's hang out with Dr. Carte.
[ ] Let's go to Mom's place.
>[x] Let's talk with Alex about getting your livestream going again.
Alex collapses on the living room couch, arms flopping uselessly to the cushions as he leans back. "I'm wiped," he groans.
Whitney finishes getting the table set up on her own. "You seriously need to work on your core strength," she says. "Pathetic."
"Uh huh..."
You stand over him. Your shadow falling across his face catches his attention, and he looks up.
"Are you still a patron of the fine arts?" You ask.
"Right about now? I'm a patron of sitting on my butt."
You scoop him into your arms.
"Geez, Ally~" he coos.
You unceremoniously drop him to his feet.
"Ooof-- what the heck. Warn me!"
"Come upstairs with me," you say.
Whitney arches an eyebrow. This is too inviting a setup not to shoehorn herself into -- so you warn her off. "Unless you like the nitty-gritty details of starting an internet livestream dedicated to circuit modification, you might as well find something better to do."
Whitney laughs. "I sort of zoned out in the middle there, but okay... if you fuck him, though, let me know."
Alex blushes. But his excitement wins over his embarrassment: "Really? Cerise is ready to do her circuit bending stream again?"
"She better be. I didn't buy her a top-line PC and brand new wardrobe for it to go to waste."
This is news to Cerise. "You... nooo. Oh my God, Alabaster. Why didn't you ask me first?"
"Forget about that!" Alex says. He takes Cerise's hand. "We definitely have to do it now that Ally went to all this trouble, don't we?"
"You motherfucker," Cerise growls at you. "You set this up so I can't say no."
"Yep," you agree.
Alex is unyielding. "C'mon, Cerise... you already said you'd do your old show again... so what's wrong with right now? Carpe diem, right?"
"Oh, and by the way," you cut in. "I got a wardrobe for you too, Alex. Since you said you'd co-host."
He suddenly looks somewhat more hesitant.
"How did you find a costume that would fit me so-- so well?" Cerise asks, marveling at herself in the mirror. She fills out the bunnygirl costume perfectly. Just as you suspected, an outfit that was way too tight for Charlotte is just perfect for your dear sister. Her choker completes the pseudo-slutty look. You feel a bit weird knowing strangers from all around the globe will be ogling her, but you're fast developing an exhibitionist streak of your own.
Alex has finished hooking up the new PC, getting Cerise's new Twitch account ready to go, and arranging a couple webcams. Now he prepares a green screen backdrop and some cheap lights. Cerise's old gear from her prior livestream is finally getting its first use in over five years.
"Your turn," you tell Alex. You hold a bag aloft, the one with the outfit you've selected for him.
With shaky hands, he takes the bag. He opens it and looks inside. He shuts it again.
"I can't wear that!" He chirps.
"Why not?" You ask.
"That's a succubus costume!"
"So?"
"I can't be a succubus! I'm a boy!"
"Cerise is a human being, but she's dressed as a bunny," you counter. "And you've dressed as a maid plenty of times. What's the difference?"
Cerise takes the bag and looks inside for herself. She whistles. "I like it," she affirms.
"I-I'm not sure about this!" Alex says. "Maybe we should do a little advertising and outreach and stuff before getting our first stream going--"
"Take the arms," you tell Cerise.
"Wha--" Alex begins. He loses his wind as Cerise grabs him under the arms and restrains him. You strip him to his skivvies as he writhes and resists. His lithe body is flushed all over, but there's a tent in his boxer-briefs. "Should he wear panties too?" You ask Cerise.
"Absolutely. Verisimilitude demands it."
"Nice vocab. But I was thinking he should go nopan. That's more true to the succubus aesthetic, isn't it?"
"Ohhh," Cerise breathes. "I like the way you think."
"Guys--" Alex says.
But no use trying to protest. You peel Alex's underwear off, leaving him naked and ashamed before you. His leaky cock tells the truth. He likes this kind of treatment, the slut. Cerise hands him the costume and commands him: "put it on." The tone of her voice leaves no room for backtalk. She isn't fucking around. That's the way you have to be with Alex, sometimes. He struggles to get himself into the too-small outfit, the latex hugging his body tight. It puts what looks like a lot of uncomfortable pressure on his straining dick. He regards himself uncertainly in the mirror, poking his index fingers together. His cock throbs through the material, and it makes his tail with its heart-shaped end bob a little bit in the air.
Your own cock is getting hard, too. The sight of Alex in that whorish costume, not to mention your bunnygirl sister with her cleavage showing and pale thighs contrasting against the dark pantyhose, makes your heart swell with contentment. You made some good selections. You've got great taste.
"How are we going to get viewers?" Cerise asks. She affixes the surgical mask to her face that is supposed to preserve the patina of anonymity. She does the same for Alex next.
"You've got a built-in base of subscribers, don't you?" You say.
"Who-- oh. Oh, no. No fucking way."
"I mean. We won't say it's you. We'll just imply it. And then let word of mouth build your subscriber count after that."
Cerise rubs her forehead. She doesn't like the prospect of it, but it's definitely the best method for getting eyeballs on the new show, fast.
---
You stand off to the side and watch as Cerise and Alex sit silent and motionless in front of the cameras. You've just put the word out on /csg/ -- a single anonymous post of "holy shit... is Cerise on stream again?" -- plus a link.
The view count is rolling up and up. 20, 30, 50, 100... it always blows your mind how many losers are obsessed with her. Hopefully the sudden surge in popularity right out of the gate will slingshot Cerise into a position of prominence on the platform.
"Good afternoon. Sakura Dokuhaku here. Let's get started, hmm?"
The screen-in-screen setup shows the desktop as well, the tools arrayed and ready, and tonight's surgery victim -- a Tickle-Me-Elmo.
"My assistant Besuto will help," Cerise says. "Today we'll demonstrate some basics of how to interface an audio jack into a toy like Elmo here, so you can directly control the soundboard... a very elementary operation, but quite painful for the poor subject, I'm afraid..."
"Muahaha~" Alex laughs, playing up the demonic angle. He's slid into his role as succubus quite nicely.
/csg/ is going nuts.
>WHAT THE FUCK. IT'S REALLY HER. WHO THE FUCK IS THAT NEXT TO HER?!
>Are we sure it's her, guys. It's so suspicious that some anon just suddenly dropped the link as soon as she started...
>Shut the fuck up fag. Of course it's her. Are you blind? You can't even recognize the Goddess?
>This is the best day of my life.
>I want to circuit bend with Cerise! I really want to!
"Scalpel," Cerise says.
Alex hands her a scalpel. She uses it to cut the fur from the Elmo's back and peel it open, like vivisecting a frog.
"That tickles!" Elmo shouts. "HAHAHA!"
This is, as always, horrifying.
"Phillips head," Cerise commands. Alex hands her a jeweler's screwdriver, and she begins to remove the back half of the hard plastic case of the toy's body. Though Alex is wearing a surgical mask, you can tell how broadly he's smiling. This is like a dream come true for him.
>Besuto. Alex Best. She's streaming with DBA's CTO.
>You've got to be shitting me.
>Are they together? They look awfully, uh, friendly...
>(Alex_Best.jpg) Oh my god. Pack it in, boys. This is the man who just cucked us.
>Don't care! This is hot as hell.
>Literally fapping and shaking and cumming and shitting right now.
Cerise is soldering new connections onto the toy's circuit-board and Alex pulls out a small synthesizer that will somehow play a part, too. But you're hardly paying attention, you're more focused on the comments in /csg/ and the Twitch chat. They're flying by so quickly that you can't keep up. The leering, the gnashing of teeth, the sheer level of thirst, makes you simultaneously smug and mad. Smug, because they're all losing their shit over her, and mad, because /csg/ always pisses you off with their graphic descriptions of what exactly they'd like to do to Cerise.
Right around the time the insufferable tripfag known as TCG starts going on a diatribe about how the girl on stream could not possibly be "the Goddess" and how anyone who says she is, is a shill who should be banned, and how Cerise is obviously a pure and untainted girl who would never even hang out with a man, let alone have a relationship with one, you've had about all you can stomach. It's time to exact a little revenge on the denizens of /csg/.
You stroll into frame.
"Ala-- what are you doing?" Cerise hisses.
You rub her shoulders. "Let's give them a show, Sakura. Introduce me, huh?"
Due to the positioning of the webcams, you're only visible from the waist down, but that's just fine for what you want to do.
Cerise squints at you. "You're gonna get me banned from Twitch, asshole."
"We can start our own website. Just call this a preview of what's to come..."
Cerise turns towards the blinking red light of the main webcam again. She clears her throat. "This is Shiro Dokuhaku. He knows absolutely nothing about circuit bending, so you'll have to forgive his presence..."
You stand there watching from over Cerise's shoulder as she diligently continues to work. Alex casts a few frightened glances back at you -- he has an inkling of what might be brewing here, too.
You scroll the thread on your phone.
>IS THAT
>Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
>AAAAAAAAAA
>PURITYFAGS BTFO
>It's not Cerise, you fucking morons. Holy shit. The bridge of her nose is completely different. Her ears don't match. The haircut isn't the same. You people are LITERALLY retarded. Holy shit.
>Is that her brother? Is her brother giving her a fucking shoulder rub in a bunny costume?
>[INCEST INTENSIFIES]
You pocket your phone with a smile. They haven't seen anything yet.
You reach down and cup one of Cerise's breasts. The material of the bunny costume, the way it forces her tits together, has made them perkier and firmer than usual -- but the skin has a nice, supple give to it all the same. Cerise draws a sharp breath, but she doesn't tell you to stop. She just keeps working. Taking that as permission, you run your hand around the curve of her breast now and get your fingers underneath the fabric concealing it. You grope her shamelessly.
"Ala-- Shiro--" She whispers. She wriggles a little in your grip and forces your hand out of her bustier. "I'm sorry, everyone," she says. "My little brother is a pervert."
This is already lewd enough to get the channel booted from the site, so you're just waiting for the moment it happens. Growing bolder in light of that, you try to entice Cerise by groping Alex now instead. Alex mewls and whines as you run your hands along his flat chest and tweak his nipples through the thin material of the succubus costume's top. Despite your molestation, the two are as industrious as ever and now Alex is connecting audio jacks to the splayed-open Elmo doll. Cerise, eyes half on the workbench and half on the liberties you're taking with Alex's body, begins to fiddle with some knobs, and the toy starts to make random, high-pitched warbling noises.
"I think this demonstration should be more than good enough," Cerise says to the camera. "As you can see, the operation is a success and the patient is transformed..."
"Nnn~" Alex mumbles as you get your hand into his costume now, too. You squeeze his bare chest and he arches his back in his chair appreciatively.
"I think that's enough for today's stream," Cerise says.
"Do your patented sign off, then," you tell her.
"Which is what?" She says skeptically.
"The one with my cock in your mouth."
Cerise's eyes bulge as you unzip your fly and pull out your throbbing cock for all the world to see. You give her no time to react any further, as you push it behind her surgical mask. Her lips are wet and feel nice against your achingly hard cockmeat. Though she isn't totally pleased at what you've done with her stream, she can't resist the sight, smell, and taste of your dick. Her eyes droop as she stares down her nose at the bulge it makes in her mask. Alex's eyes droop too, as he watches on, jealous.
Cerise decides to roll with it. She plants a loud wet kiss on your cock. "Thish is Shakura Dokuhaku," she says, muffled. "Shigning off!" She winks and holds up twin peace signs as she kisses and suckles on your dick, and you thrust your hips a little to help her along.
She doesn't have to kill the stream because Twitch does it for her. The feed goes dead and the channel closes with a message from the site saying that it has violated their ToS.
No matter. You've got your dick between your older sister's lips and that's what counts. Cerise is still holding her hands up for the cameras, unaware that she's no longer broadcasting. She flicks her tongue repeatedly against the sensitive underside of your prick as she continues with the double peace sign schtick.
Alex has a bit more situational awareness. He takes his face mask off and gazes longingly up at you. "Ally... let me suck your cock too, please..."
Cerise blinks in surprise. "You're off the air," you inform her.
She laughs through her nose, and the little bursts of cool air against your dick feel really nice in their own right. She peels away her mask, too.
"Help me out," she tells Alex. "Let's suck him off together."
You sink down onto her bed. Cerise and Alex sit on their knees before you -- bunny and succubus, a perfect combination. You ruffle Cerise's hair appreciatively and grip one of the kinked ears, as the two of them get to work now in earnest. They make such an adorable pair with your shaft between their lips. They slide up and down in an alternating rhythm, so one is at the head while the other is at the base, then vice-versa. Their wet, slobbery tongues totally coat your dick in viscous drool that seeps down its length, over your heavy nuts. There can be no better relief than this. Occasionally, Alex stops to flicker his tongue lightly against your balls, then to suckle on them, and smile up at you.
You glance down and see that Cerise has both hands between her legs, pawing at the tight crease of her costume's crotch.
"Naughty bunny," you chide.
"Mmm," Cerise moans, low and sensual, a murmur of agreement. She pulls away from your cock with a wet plop. "Will you help my bunny pussy feel good, then?"
Alex traps your cock against his lips, his hand wrapped around the other side, and licks it with increasing vigor. He's so greedy with your dick. You curl your toes and groan.
Cerise stands, and grabs the back of your head, and pulls you into a desperate French kiss. You taste her mouth for the second time today and enjoy just as much as the first. As you make out, Cerise takes your hand, guides it between her legs, and beckons you to play with her. You rub Cerise's cunt through the material of her outfit. Even from outside, you feel its raw heat.
Alex, between your legs, starts to suck you off. He gets the head of your cock inside his mouth and then sinks down, down, down, gagging himself. You and your sister make out wetly as you enjoy the feeling of Alex's expert fellatio. He's such good little cocksucker. The best. You can feel the bubbles of his saliva popping at the corners of his lips as he slides up and down on you. He's practically gargling your cock.
"I wanna fuck you," you whisper into Cerise's ear. "I wanna fuck you so bad."
She caresses your hair. "I do too, Alabaster... I really do..."
You slip your hand under the hem of her costume and run your fingertips along her naked cunt lips. She shivers.
"I'm sorry..." she whispers. "But... but I..."
Alex is choking hard on your dick, but keeps sucking. What a doll he is. Anything to make you feel good.
You kiss her again. "We have permission, you know... Mom said it's okay, right?"
You fingers in her pussy are quickly dismantling the last of her resistance. She shifts her healthy thighs back and forth, tensing them, and increasing the pressure of your hand against her genitals. She moans.
"We've done everything else... why not let your little brother cum inside you, too?"
"Ungh..." she moans. That image definitely does something to her, something she likes.
"Besides -- you don't want to be a virgin at 26, do you?"
Cerise narrows her eyes. Even as you molest her, she disputes the accusation: "I'm not technically 26, you know... my time of birth was 4:21 PM..."
You crane your neck and look around Cerise, at her PC monitor. The current time is 4:10 PM.
"You've got about 10 minutes before you're officially a Christmas Cake, then," you say.
"Fuck you... oooh~" She tries to be hostile, but you tickle her clit, and that's all it takes to tame her again.
You nuzzle the side of her face. "If we're quick about it... I could blow my load in you before you turn 26... just saying."
She searches your eyes for a moment. You play with her clit some more and smile at her, nodding. There's no way she can say no to this... you've got her totally worked up now.
"You would cum inside your own sister?" She says.
"Fuck yes I would. There's no place I'd rather cum."
She kisses you all over your neck, your face, your lips. "You are such a fucking pervert..." she sighs.
"You are too."
She climbs onto the bed. Alex, taking his cue, releases your cock from the back of his throat with a wet gurgle. He smiles warmly, blushing, and watches from the floor at the foot of the bed as you join Cerise.
You get on top of her. The passion and force of your mutual kissing knocks her bunny ears askew and finally off her head entirely. You grab them and toss them aside. Enough of the costume. You just want to fuck your older sister.
"Are you... sure about this..." she asks.
"As sure as I've ever been," you reply. "God I want to fuck you."
She shudders. "Okay... okay, Alabaster..." With a kiss, she stutter: "f-fuck me..."
You tug the one-piece off of her, starting at the shoulders, and pulling down, like unwrapping a piece of candy. Alex is ever-helpful, and pulls the garment from off her legs for you, as you and Cerise passionately mingle your tongues and sigh into each other's mouths. You quickly strip free of your shirt and pants now too. And then there you are, Alabaster and Cerise Soliloquy, two siblings naked in each other's arms on the bed, ready to mate.
You line up at the entrance to Cerise's sticky pussy and enjoy the sensation of your cockhead spreading her engorged labia apart. They cling to your dick as if kissing it. You link hands with Cerise and stare deeply into her eyes. This is it: you push. And then you're inside -- you feel, for the first time, the divine sensation of your sister's pussy walls engulfing you.
"Ohhh" you grunt. "Oh fuck, Cerise... you're so tight..."
"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's just that... oh my god... you're so big..."
She wraps her ankles around your butt and draws you deeper. You lay your head against her collar bone, pressing your full weight against her body. Still linking hands, you begin to rut. It's fast and hard and needful, almost primal, but somehow tender all the same. This is 20-some years of pent-up energy releasing in one glorious explosion. You're fucking your older sister -- you're fucking her raw, lying on top of her in her bed, pounding her cunt into oblivion. And she loves it. You do too. Why did it take so long? You should have been fucking her for years. This is way too good to have missed out on. Her creaming pussy is the perfect shape for your dick, like two corresponding pieces tailored just for one other. Cerise's pussy was made to get fucked by you.
"Fuck me!" she breathes. She throws her neck back and her muscles tense. "Yes! Cum inside me!"
That's exactly what you needed to hear. Full permission from Cerise to get off inside her cunt. Permission to drop an incestuous load in her. Permission to sperm your older sister.
Your hips become a blur as they bounce up and down. Your fat prick saws in and out of her, and her squelching insides cling so sweetly to you as you stroke. Cerise's little pussy is so beautiful, and the inside of it is just as soft and delicate and warm and wet as the outside. She might be as dirty and hopeless a pervert as you are, but she's got the sweetest cunt you've ever had the pleasure of mating with. It only heightens your enjoyment. As do the soles of Cerise's feet pressing insistently against your backside, trying to force your cock ever deeper inside her, beckoning you to jizz directly in her womb.
Your unprotected dick is about to cum inside your sister's body and you couldn't be happier.
"Ohhhhh," she screams. "Ohhh, I feel it... I feel it, Alabaster... are you gonna--"
"Yes," you gulp.
"It's getting bigger... oh, fuck... it's getting so big... you're really gonna do it--"
Your neck muscles strain and you pound extra forcefully into her: full strokes, bottoming out completely each time, coaxing out your sperm. Cerise's orgasming pussy helps it along, milking you off as it shudders and spasms around you. You feel lightheaded and see stars, as you force your cock fully into that clamping pussy of hers and surrender yourself to the greatest orgasm you've ever had. Your entire body tingles and your balls almost hurt as they fire pulse after searing pulse of thick, hot semen into Cerise's deepest parts. Again and again your cock blasts those sticky spurts of cum against her inner walls, into her suckling womb. You hose your older sister's cunt with what feels like gallons of your fertile seed. She wails in delight at the way your throbbing dick gets off in her. It's a cum that seems to last for minutes on end, a simultaneous release better than anything you've ever felt.
As you slowly pull out, your cock, still oozing cum, adds to the messy creampie. It trickles lewdly from her glistening fuckhole. She's leaking your cum all over the sheets, and her cunt is totally full. Her breaths are ragged and she's smiling broadly, staring down at the same sight -- staring down at the way her little brother's dick milk coats her pussy inside and out. Glancing over your shoulder, you check the time: 4:21 PM.
GIRLS FUCKED: 12/12
FULL CLEAR
RANK: A
Now try for the true ending!!
---
You lie curled up on the living room couch with Cerise, watching trashy TV, but not paying too much attention. You spend more time just lazily kissing her. Alex is on the recliner, still in his succubus getup -- he seems to have warmed to it.
"Alabaster..." Cerise breathes. Her voice is dreamy. "I lov--"
The doorbell rings.
You extricate yourself from her grip and get up, reluctantly. Cerise is equally reluctant to let you go. You answer the door: it's Tyrus.
"Forget something, or what?" You say.
He peers around you, into the living room, seeing that Cerise and Alex are here too. "Shit," he says. "Perfect timing."
"What's going on?" You say. You feel a sinking sensation in your gut, an instinct that things are not all right.
"We four need to take a drive," he says. "Let's go."
You step to the side, blocking his view of Cerise and Alex: "now hold on just a second. What's going on?"
"We can do this easy or hard," he says. "Choice is yours." He straightens his belt, drawing your eyes down, and you see his gun in his waistband.
"I trusted you," you glower.
"And you were fucking right to. You don't understand shit, do you?"
"I'll go. Okay? Just leave them out of this, whatever it is--"
"No can do, friendo. This is an all or nothing package. And it's for your own good."
You look back at Cerise and Alex. Their expressions are severe -- confused and frightened.
"It's gonna be okay," you tell them.
Tyrus puts a hand on your shoulder.
Time to go.
Tyrus leads the three of you past a sneering bouncer. It's barely after 6 in the evening but the Sapphire Club is jam-packed with hooting customers. A DJ pounds electronic music; on stage, women strip for dollar bills.
But you're not relegated to mingling with the hoi polloi. Tyrus owns this establishment, and leads you up a winding staircase, through sequined curtains, and into a lush VIP section.
A dark, half-naked woman rounds a corner, bangles jangling, tits jiggling. She sets her hungry eyes on Alex and draws him into a hug, mashing her breasts right into his blushing face. "Oh baby," she says, "aren't you just the sweetest. You're not one of Tyrus's boytoys are you? You wanna have a good time?"
"A-Ally--" Alex mumbles, scared out of his wits.
"Fuck off, Jade," Tyrus says. "We're here on business. Make yourself useful and get us some vodka."
She clicks her tongue against her palate in anger, stepping back. "Geez, Tyrus. You're such an asshole."
"And you're a dumb fuckin' whore. Don't you see you're bothering the poor kid? Just go get us some drinks. Shit."
She scurries away. Tyrus beckons for you, Cerise and Alex to file into a plush booth. It's red and white, and zirconium-studded around the edges. He sits on the end, basically trapping you -- oh, and of course, the multiple armed thugs at the exits. The seats across the table from you are empty. Are you waiting for someone?
"What is this?" You demand. "Why here?"
"We're on friendly turf here," Tyrus says.
The stripper, Jade, returns with the drinks Tyrus ordered her to fetch. She sets shot glasses down in front of you and a skull-shaped bottle of fine vodka at the table's center. Hardly a welcoming sight. Tyrus unscrews the cap, pours shots for you all, and a couple more for the putative guests you're awaiting. Tyrus drinks his, and Cerise drinks hers, but you and Alex aren't really in the mood.
Alex's hiss of fright alerts you before you see it: in now comes walking Stasi Lebedev.
She's flanked by a small retinue of stern, besuited men with uzis, each more vicious-looking than the last.
And they've brought someone else, too: Sable Guiteau.
They force Sable to sit across from you at the booth, and Stasi joins her, hedging her in the same way Tyrus has done with you. Sable looks reproachfully up at her captors, and shrieks: "You are going to pay for this! You've crossed the wrong woman!"
Alex has both hands to his mouth, trembling. You can hardly believe it yourself. All this time, you thought Sable was dead. It's a rude shock to see her being carted in by the Russian mafia -- by the woman who came so close to killing you last year.
Stasi clacks her fingernails against the table. "Let's begin," she says. "Our terms are simple. Hand over Alexander Best and both the Soliloquy siblings, and we can consider ourselves even."
Tyrus smiles. "Fuck you."
"You are making such a mistake, Mr. Kang. I have played so nicely with you."
"I ought to dome you right here and now," he says. He stands up, pulls his pistol out, and even as the men all around him go into a commotion of raised guns and shouts, his glare is fixed squarely on Stasi. "You played nice with me? You killed my husband! You fucking cunt. Whatever the fuck it is you want, you get the opposite. I'm gonna fuck you up. You, your organization, all your cronies back in Moscow. I'll kill every single one of you motherfuckers."
Stasi frowns at him. "This again? Tyrus... you poor, dumb ape. I didn't kill your faggot husband. His killer is on your side of the table."
Your heart skips a beat. Alex winces and stares at his lap. He's crying. Cerise holds your hand under the table, equally terrified, her eyes also welling with tears.
"Bullshit," Tyrus says. "You think I was born yesterday?"
"You're being played for a fool," Stasi tells him. "No matter. We'll get what we want in the end anyway. What's to stop us from massacring you all, right here and now?"
"You know what. You can steal all the Sand Reckoner implants you want. As long as I've got eyes on Darkbloom Analytics, you can't take over the data centers, can you. The second you make a move you're gonna have a fucking army coming for you. A whole fucking squadron of strapped-down niggers who dropped out of middle school and learned out of history books from the 1980s. They still think the Soviet Union exists. The only thing they love more than shooting people is hating Russians."
Stasi regards him, fist on cheek. "Do you see this woman beside me? This woman negates the need for taking over any existing infrastructure. She'll create a newer, better framework... without the need for David Darkbloom's old servers. All we need now is that implant inside Cerise Soliloquy's head..."
Tyrus considers his position. He glances down at the three of you, then over to Sable.
"If you cooperate, Mr. Kang, you can come out of this ahead. There is room in the new world for you. Set aside old grudges... it's the civilized thing to do. Or -- you can die."
It all happens so fast: Tyrus whistles, sharp and hard, and that's apparently the cue. His men turn on Stasi's men, and fire. He's declined the bargain.
Tyrus fires at Stasi. But Stasi's reaction time is almost superhuman. She grabs his arm and wrenches it up, into the air, and Tyrus misses.
Seething, he dives across the booth for her. And that's the last you see of either of them because you're grabbing both Cerise and Alex and ducking beneath the cover of the table as the room dissolves into a horrible cacophony of gunfire.
There were more, many more men than the few you saw around the room's perimeter. They're swarming the place by the dozen, seemingly coming from the rafters, like roaches to a garbage pile -- Russians and gangsters alike. It's a fucking bloodbath.
You hug Cerise tight and try to bodily shield her from any stray bullets that might come her way. She's trembling like a bird in your arms. Bodies pile up in front of the booth -- one dying man, a fat Russian, lurches forward and thuds against the tabletop, bent at the waist, his lower half like a curtain obscuring your view of the room beyond.
The gunfire and senseless screaming becomes an incessant drone in your ears. Your nostrils fill with the smell of phosphorus and iron and the voiding bowels of dead men. This is hell made real.
And then suddenly, the body draped over the table falls away -- tugged down by an interloper. You shield your face with both hands as they point a shotgun at you.
"--Rose?" You sputter. Her face is blank, but severe. You lock eyes, staring at one another for a split moment. But something catches her attention. She wheels, and fires, and another Russian falls dead at her feet.
She looks back down at you.
"Run," she says.
With that, and nothing more, she steps past your field of vision, pumping her shotgun, and you hear her fire join the chorus.
You crawl forward on hands and knees and peer out. Rose followed the action through another set of curtains, into another VIP booth, where shots continue to ring out, and gunsmoke peters through the sequins. The path in the opposite direction, to the exit, down the stairs, is clear of everything save for corpses. You usher Alex and Cerise -- Sable, too -- out, and point them down the stairs. But you linger behind.
"...Alabaster?" Cerise says. "Come on! Let's go!"
"I'll -- I'll be right back."
"What?!"
"Go! Get out of here."
"I--" Cerise begins, but Alex is tugging her by the wrist. "Let's go! You won't convince him -- let's go!"
You meet Cerise's frightened eyes, and nod. She doesn't want to go, but Alex's insistence practically drags her down the stairs with him.
You turn, and squat over the body of one of Tyrus's men, and pick up his pistol. It's cold, heavy in your hands. You're not used to holding a gun like Rose is. You should have let her teach you a little more.
Too late now. You take it and stride purposefully forward, through the curtains of the adjoining booth, to help Rose however you can.
END OF EPISODE 10.