Wesley's Bizarre Adventure Episode 5: Ass Class

You are Wesley Keki, futa fan and newhalf enjoyer.

You come back triumphant after giving North High's E-sports team a thrashing. ggez. The moms are still at work, so you have the house to yourself for an hour or two, and figure you could stand to read some doujin to pass the time. Comic LO or Comic MILF, or maybe something new and spicy. You haven't decided, but just considering it on your way down the hall to your room is already making you tingly.

On the other side of the bedroom door, Gideon is standing at your bookshelf. He's admiring the figmas and manga there. He runs his hand along one of the spines as he regards you in profile, and says: "did Luffy find the One Piece yet?"

You shriek. "Help! HELP! FUCK!"

Gideon closes the small distance with a single stride and lays a palm flat over your mouth. "Be quiet. I need to t--"

You find the can of mace in your backpack's side pocket and, whipping it out, you give Gideon a couple spritzes. Howling, he stumbles backwards in a wide semicircle, his momentum only halting when he butts up against your PC desk and chair. He clutches his eyes. His face flushes red. He pours mucus and tears. "Goddamn it!" He grunts. "Fucking -- shit, ow--"

"HELP!" You cry. You turn back and forth like an oscillating fan, looking for someone, you're not sure who. "HEEEEEEEELP!"

Gideon goes for you again, blinded and still in agony, stumbling and knocking things off your desk as he flails. You grab the nearest hefty object in your reach, a Daruma doll, and bludgeon him repeatedly over the head to force him back. He swats at you, tries to fend you off, but can't see where you're coming from. He's stooping slightly, backpedaling, covering his face with the crook of his elbow. At last, he knocks the doll from your hands. You halt in fright. He uncovers his face to see you through squinting, tear-filled eyes -- and cold clocks you in the solar plexus, flooring you. You wheeze.

"Jesus CHRIST," he says between spittling coughs.

"Help..." you croak.

"I'm not here to hurt you! I need to talk to you!"

You lie on the floor staring back at him. Groping, Gideon finds a hoodie of yours made from jersey material. It's draped around the metal rod connecting the back of your PC chair to the seat. He pats it against his face to dry his still badly irritated eyes. But then taking a couple sniffs and grimacing, he pulls the thing away and examines it in semi-horror. He drops the garment to the floor.

"You're a fighter, I'll give you that," he says. He pulls tissue after tissue from the box by your monitor and loudly blows his nose. He wads the tissues up and tosses them away, to balance precariously on the mound already overflowing from your wastebasket. "You have allergies or something?..." he asks. He shakes his head. Sits at your gaming chair. "Anyway. I need to talk to you."

"How did you get past my security..." you say, rising to your elbows and butt on the ground.

"I used to do this for a living. Tyrus Kang and his rent-a-cops are easy enough to slip past, if I want to. Now I don't suppose Mr. Kang or your father have told you about my former associate being back in town, have they."

"Your former associate... what?"

"I thought so." From his breast pocket, he produces a photograph, and drops it on the ground. You pick it up. The man in the photo is gaunt, pale almost to the point of albinism, lanky -- and his eyes gleam evilly. He looks like a real creep.

"Samuel Buridan. Well, that was his alias, anyway. I worked with him for five years and never knew his real name. He didn't know mine, either." He pulls a cigarette and a lighter out, lights up. You give him a hard stare. He isn't moved. Pocketing the lighter again, his voice made strange by speaking with the cigarette's filter between his lips, he says: "this is one of the few rooms on Earth where cigarette smoke would improve the olfactory ambiance. So don't worry about it." He takes a long drag.

"Why are you telling me this?" You ask.

"Someone has to tell you that your room stinks."

"Not that."

"I told Kang's crony, who may or may not have been smart enough to pass it on to the boss, but now I'm telling you. Because if Buridan is in town, he could be targeting you -- or he could be targeting my own family. And crazy as it is to think that a teenage girl with a stinky bedroom is the only rational person connected to this situation, she is. I know you care about Summer, and I know you won't let anything happen to her if you can help it. So I trust you to act accordingly."

"You're a real asshole, has anyone ever told you that?"

Gideon shrugs. "Sure." His face lights up, and he seems to remember something. He reaches into his coat pocket again. For a brief and terrifying instant you think he's going to shoot you, but he pulls out something much stranger than a gun. It's a mask, covered with false eyes of many shapes and sizes, all inset with sapphires for the irises. He tosses it at you, and by reflex you catch it. You turn it over in your hand, examining it. "They wear these at council meetings to stay anonymous," Gideon tells you.

"Why?"

"You're not supposed to be an individual in Instrumentalism. Self-ness is forbidden." You goggle at him. "More practically," he continues, "Instrumentalism's structure is compartmental by design. The leaders don't know each other, or at least they claim not to. Mid-level leadership doesn't know each other, anyway. I'm sure the high council are all buddies." He ashes his cigarette in an empty can of energy drink on your desktop. "Well, keep that mask. It could be useful."

"What the hell am I going to do with this creepy Halloween mask?" You stand, your fear and confusion fast being replaced with anger that courses hot through your veins. "What the f--"

"I'm at least 75% sure you're going to run and tell Tyrus Kang and Alabaster Soliloquy about my being in your bedroom today, and 95% sure they'll try to have me killed if you do. So I may be gone, but you might still take the opportunity to peek on what your family gets up to."

You gesticulate. "MY family? What's that supposed to mean?"

Gideon snuffs his cigarette out on the rim of the can and stows what remains behind his ear. "I don't know the upper echelons of Instrumentalism myself, but I did find out where they're having their next high council meeting. In a server facility under the basement of a company you may have heard of. Darkbloom Enterprises."

---

"Wake up."

N-Mom is standing over your bed, arms folded.

"Let me guess," you say. "I'm gonna be late."

"If you keep sleeping like this, I'll have to take you to the doctor. It's not normal."

"It's normal, Mom. It's so normal."

"Staying up until 5 AM every night playing video games is going to wreck you in the long run. You need to take better care of yourself..." Naggy as she is, at least N-Mom is talking to you. K-Mom still hardly looks you in the eye after what happened with Amelia a couple nights ago. "At this rate, you'll be too exhausted for your homecoming dance tonight."

You feel a jolt of fright. Homecoming. Shit. Fuck. Oh God.

You sit up in bed. N-Mom starts for the door. "Your mother is making breakfast. Get your butt ready for school and grab a bite to eat."

As she leaves, your eyes settle again on the mask Gideon left you with. You have it resting on the Daruma doll on your shelf, like the doll is a wig stand -- for want of a better place to keep it.

Gideon's parting comments have left you feeling a perpetual, low-level seasickness. The suggestion that your father could be part of this cult is insane, of course... you reject it without even considering it. But not so much the suggestion that someone else close to you might be. David Darkbloom... what do you really know about that man? This cult is popular among directionless billionaires quite like him, rich old men who've lost their religion and are seeking out something else to fill the void, something to give them purpose before they shuffle off their mortal coil. And like Gideon said, there's no way something like this council meeting could happen at the main campus of Darkbloom Enterprises without the top dog knowing.

So what would happen if you told your dad? Or anyone else for that matter?

[ ] Keep this to yourself until you can learn more.

[x] You should tell someone. [write in who.] [x] The Moms

Workmen are busy dismantling the center island in the kitchen where you usually eat non-dinner meals. They're going to be installing black slate.

"Fucking bullshit..." N-Mom mutters as she glumly chews toast on the living room sectional.

K-Mom, beside her, preens and giggles smugly.

You nibble at a piece of bacon and sit on the lush carpet, resting with your back against the couch.

"So I'm guessing first period is a write-off, then," N-Mom says.

You check the time. 8:30. "Yeah," you say.

"If you miss another class because you can't wake up with your alarm, I'm going to bring back spanking," K-Mom warns you. Bring it back? K-Mom never brought it the first time. All bark, no bite. She's been making empty threats of spanking since you can remember.

"Kay," N-Mom chides.

"What? She needs some goddamn discipline. God knows you won't do it."

"Blah blah," N-Mom says.

"Gideon was in my bedroom last night."

Your Moms stop bickering and gawk at you. You examine your bacon as if there's something intensely interesting there.

"What?" K-Mom says.

"Gideon Denali broke into my room... uh... he didn't threaten me, or anything, but..."

You calmly explain the whole blow-by-blow.

Your mothers were the right people to go to. They talk between themselves at blitzkrieg speed, drafting strategies: one or both of them to henceforth be in the house at all times. Confronting Tyrus about the lapse in security and making sure your family's detail gets beefed-up. Keeping you on your normal schedule, so as not to arouse any outside suspicions -- school, extracurriculars, everything -- but you'll be on the shortest leash you've ever had, with your moms lurking in the background everywhere you go... joy. They'll dig for any speck of dirt they can get on this Buridan person, and put out the APB for Gideon Denali -- if he shows his face again, he'll end up in cuffs, and that's if he's lucky. They shoo the contractors out, putting the work on indefinite hiatus, so your kitchen counters will be out of commission for a while.

"Should we tell Alabaster?" N-Mom asks.

K-Mom thinks about this. "He'll act rashly. We need some clarity on what we're dealing with first. What if David Darkbloom or someone else close to us is involved after all?"

N-Mom folds her arms and stares at the ceiling. "Maybe it's time to bring Liz in for some interrogation."

You feel sick to your stomach.

---

Will, Noah, and Auburn are somewhat close friends, and often walk the halls at PAP together. Between second and third period, the three of them have business with the three of you -- that is, you, Ophie, and Amber. Auburn pulls Amber aside to talk about something or other related to StuCo and their chaperoning duties tonight. Noah wants to talk mathematical shop with Ophie, asking her for help with whatever world-breaking theorem he's working on now. And Will:

"Hey, do you know what kinda snacks they're gonna be serving at the dance?"

"Snacks... what? Why would I?"

"Since Amb's on the planning committee and all. Figured you guys might be in the loop. She keeps blowing me off every time I ask--" (your gut surges with adrenaline at the inadvertent mental image he plants in your head, there) "--but I want to know, you know, because I'm on this special diet where I have to know. You know?"

"The nut thing?" You say.

"Naaah. I moved on from that. I'm doing reverse keto now."

"I... don't know what that means."

"Carbs only."

"If you're restricted to carbs, I'm sure you'll be fine..." you mutter.

He nods. "So. Excited? I hope not. I still haven't picked out a tux. You pick out anything yet?"

"I'm wearing a cheongsam tonight."

He stares at you blankly.

"Chinese dress," you tell him.

"What's special about that? Most dresses are Chinese, these days. Trade deals, am I right?" You shake your head. He'll just have to see for himself. "Are you picking me up at my place?" He asks.

"Isn't it customary for the guy to go to the girl's house?" You say.

Will huffs. "The point is for my parents to see me with a girl, being all... conspicuously heterosexual and shit. That's the deal! For us to look like a happy straight couple!"

One of Will's recent flings from the boy's track team walks by, blowing a kiss, which Will returns. Meanwhile, Summer comes up from behind you and leans over your shoulder, smooching you directly, up and down your neck. "Hey babe," she says. You swivel your head to kiss her back.

"Besides, my Golf is in the shop," Will says. "Shitty Japanese engineering."

You pull your face off Summer's. "Japanese? Aren't Golfs made by Ford?"

"Toyota," Will says.

"Huh?" Summer says. "Golf is a Lexus model. Isn't it?"

"Lexus is VW!" Will says. "God. Look. That's not the point. If I have my mom drop me off at your place, then could you at least, like... make out with me or something in your driveway so she sees it?"

Summer uses your shoulder like a staircase's banister, leaning on it with her considerable weight, to talk with Will from across your head. "If you're going to be taking, like, liberties with my gf, I should charge you. What's the hourly rate for an escort nowadays?"

"Don't whore me out," you say.

"I'll pay you in not kicking soccer balls at your face the next time you cheer at one of my games," Will says.

Summer gives him a look. "You could be a lot nicer. I'm letting you use Wes tonight."

"Use..." you repeat to yourself.

"I made this date before you jumped her bones," Will says. "If you two had already been dating, then... well -- I would have asked her out anyway, but still. It's the principle!"

You glance over your shoulder, up at Summer. "Are you doing anything tonight? You're still okay with me taking Will, right?"

"Oh, sure," Summer says slyly. "I have a date, too."

Your heart thuds. "What? Who?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know." She kisses you on the top of your head. "Let's just say it's someone who isn't all concerned over looking like she's straight."

You frown. Lily. That fucking slut.

"8 PM," you tell Will. "Feel free to use me all you want."

"Hecky to the yeah!" Will says, grinning. You make a mental note to add another tally to the running total of shoulder-punches you owe your aunt the next time you see her. "I'll be there."

As he steps away to pull Auburn off Amber where they're rolling around on the ground punching each other, Summer kisses your head again and smells your hair. "Wes, honey... I'm not going to have to remind you every day to wash your hair, am I?"

"I washed it," you say.

"In the past 24 hours?"

"I washed it," you repeat.

Even if she complains, she isn't pulling her face away.

"My SAT results came back." Noah is done asking Ophie for help on redefining the course of mathematics and now makes idle chitchat about standardized tests. What a Lothario.

"Mm," Ophie murmurs.

"Did you get your results yet?" Noah asks.

"Mm."

"I scored a 1600," Noah says. "And you?"

Ophie, in a rare show of emotion, becomes angry: "What kind of question is that? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"What? No, of course n--"

"Clearly you do, to be asking what I scored on the SAT. The SAT. What do you think I scored, Noah, on the SAT. Take a guess. I want to hear it. Do you think I wouldn't have scored a 1600 as well?"

"I was only making conversation," Noah says.

"Perhaps this conversation should be finished," Ophie says, spins on her heels, and stomps off.

Noah watches her departing form as she rounds the corner. He mutters to himself, "I don't understand..."

"Women, right?" Will says, swatting him on the back, startling him. Will steers him away. Auburn, breathing ragged, bruised, his formerly perfect hair mussed, brings up the rear. "That's why I don't fucks with them," Will adds, as if letting Noah in on a secret of the universe. "You'll never understand them."

Amber, dusting off her shoulders, rejoins you. "Ya hate to see it," she says. "People who love each other, hurting each other... it's the saddest thing."

Summer glances at her. "You have a black eye."

"You want one too, bitch?" Amber says.

---

You've recently made a habit of spending at least part of your lunch break with Talia. She seems like she could use the company, and no one else seems to mind your absence from the lunch room.

Today when you enter the teacher's lounge, Talia is focused on a task as delicate as open-heart surgery. She has a pair of tweezers in hand, grasping the brim of a tiny, tiny, tiny top hat. She leans halfway across the table, lowering this smaller-than-doll-sized hat towards the head of a housefly. She works by microns, the motion of the tweezers towards the preening fly almost imperceptible. The fly rubs its front feet together, oblivious to its imminent enculturing. Except Talia's tweezers pass some critical threshold just millimeters from the fly, alerting it. It alights from the table, hatless. Talia slumps her shoulders, the tension leaving her muscles, the breath leaving her lungs. She looks positively despondent.

"Rough day?" You say as you set down your backpack and take your customary seat across from her.

Mr. Langley is at the sink, rinsing out his tea mug. He glances over his shoulder. "This is the teacher's lounge," he tells you.

"Okay," you say.

He shrugs, and goes back to cleaning his mug. Then he fills it and places it in the microwave in the corner.

Talia takes the top hat she had intended for the fly, and instead puts it on the pointy tip of her cute elfin nose. The brim must have adhesive on it, because it sticks.

"Did you do the reading?" Talia asks.

"Oh, sure. It's... a great book. I practically finished the whole thing in one night. Couldn't put it down."

"The Lottery is a short story."

"Right. Of course. But it feels as rich and full as a book."

"You didn't miss much," Talia says. "Don't worry about it."

You nod. It's hard to take this conversation seriously when the person on the other side of it is wearing a microscopic hat on their nose.

The microwave beeps. Mr. Langley pulls his steaming mug out and puts a teabag in it, steeping it. Satisfied after a few moments, he squeezes the dregs out of the bag by wrapping it around a spoon, then tosses the teabag in the garbage. He sips his drink as he leans with his tailbone against the counter. "I'm glad you're here. I need a favor."

"Oh boy," you say.

"Our first quiz match of the season is today after school. Right here in my US Government class. I was thinking of having the cheer squad bring a little bit of the team spirit to our cause. Problem is, they're too busy with homecoming prep. But -- do you think maybe you could convince Summer to come, at least?"

"Oh, I don't think Wesley has any trouble making Summer come," Talia says, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

"Excellent," Mr. Langley says. "Will you help me out? Maybe you could even observe the match, too."

[x] I'll come to the match. (sub-choice: [x] bring Summer to cheer / come alone)

[ ] No thank you.

Summer fiddles with her skirt and messes with her pompoms as you lead her into the classroom. "Do the quiz dorks really need me to cheer them on?" She grumbles.

"Don't let Amber hear you calling her a dork," you say. You glance at Summer as she straightens the strap of her top. The truth is that any excuse to get Summer into her cheer outfit is just fine by you. The ruffled pink skirt, the too-tight top, and the gap between them baring her tan, almost pudgy tummy, with the slightest hint of love handles...

"I'll call her a dork right to her dorky fucking fa-- Amber!" Summer breathes, almost bumping into her.

"Mr. Langley told me you were coming by to slut it up. Guess it's true."

Summer holds up a be-pommed hand. You guess she's probably flipping Amber off, and doesn't realize that the pompom conceals it.

"Well since you're here, maybe you can tell me why there's an obscenity on the other side of that door." Amber jerks her thumb in the direction of the class where the two teams are just getting ready to begin.

Summer has no idea what that's supposed to mean, and neither do you. But stepping through the door, you realize it pretty quick. Among the players on the team you recognize, including Noah -- there's a new face. Winter Denali.

"Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah," Winter says, giggling cruelly, locking eyes with her older sister.

Today's match is against the Centennial High Philosophizers. The teams sit at pushed-together desks facing off, each player with their own buzzer. An officiant from the quiz circuit stands at a portable lectern. Dad and Aunt Rose are here, two of the only parents who've come to support the teams. Ophie sits between them, holding a triangular flag and waving it, here to show support for her sister and the boy she loves. Well, maybe not so much for the boy she loves. When Noah looks her way, Ophie imperiously looks the other direction, purposely ignoring him. Still miffed about earlier. The only other spectator is Noah's father Absalom, who sits on the opposite side of the room from Dad, watching placidly.

"So you really did come," Dad says as you enter. "I didn't believe your moms when they texted. About time you decided to make good on your legacy."

"I'm not here to play. Just dragging along the cheering section..."

Summer stands by the PAP team's tables, practicing to herself, pumping her fists and muttering some sort of rhythm: "hm-huh-hm-hm..."

"You're friends with a cheerleader, Wes?" Aunt Rose asks. Dad leans in and whispers something to her. She puts a hand to her collar.

"Don't fuck this up for us, you got it?" Amber, taking her seat, tells Winter. "I might not be able to kick you off the team, but I can kick your ass."

"Can you?" Winter says.

"Dommm-inate their minds! Dommm-inate their hearts! We're the PAP Dominators, mi-les apart! Hah!"

Summer just loves to come up with catchy cheers. The game's officiator asks that she pipe down, a request she only reluctantly complies with. She keeps dancing, bouncing on her heels and making sprightly poses. Her heavy breathing as she exerts herself fills the space between rapid-fire questions:

"Who was the third Roman emperor?"

Amber buzzes in. "Caligula."

"500 points to the Dominators. What year was the battle of Waterloo?"

Amber buzzes in. "1815."

Dad and Aunt Rose grin to themselves.

"500 more points to the Dominators. Math question. What are the zeroes of the equation x^2-2x+2?"

Noah needs neither the paper in front of him nor any time to buzz in. "1-i and 1+i," he says.

"1,000 points to the Dominators. In which US State was Harry Truman born?"

"Missouri."

Of all the people looking Winter's way right now, Amber is the most surprised of all.

"What?" Winter says. "Am I not supposed to play, too?"

This begins a phase of the game in which Winter is quicker on the buzzer than anyone else, including Amber and Noah:

"The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire." "The Nile." "Dred Scott." "Seward's Folly." "1066." "The Fall of Saigon."

A vein becomes visible under the skin of Amber's forehead. Winter coolly answers question after question. It shocks you all. Even Summer, who was so boisterous with her cheering, is rendered mutely awed by her sister's unexpectedly encyclopedic knowledge.

It's a total shutout of the Philosophizers -- one which Amber hardly contributes to.

"Amazing work, just absolutely spectacular," Mr. Langley says, effusive, as the defeated team files sadly out. He's trying to reserve equal praise for everyone, but it's obvious who he's the proudest of: "Winter, that was stunning buzzer work. I knew you'd do well when you said you wanted to join the team, but... wow!"

"Aw shucks," Winter says. She literally says "aw shucks." And the worst thing is, Mr. Langley buys it.

Amber massages the bridge of her nose with tented fingers.

"You did great," Dad says, clearly sensing the same explosive rage that you do, and trying to placate it. "I think you guys are going to the national championship this year for sure--"

Amber grabs Winter by the collar with one balled-up fist. "What do you think you're doing, huh?" Amber snarls.

Winter holds up both her hands. "Hey, hey-- what the heck? Watch the uniform--"

"Amber!" Dad shouts. He wrenches her off Winter before the altercation can become physical. "If you're upset about getting beaten to the buzzer, be quicker on the buzzer. Don't attack your goddamn teammates."

"She can attack this teammate," Summer says, standing on tiptoes, watching on with interest.

Amber, saying nothing more, but glaring sheer murder at Winter, storms out.

"Amber, wait--!" Mr. Langley says, chasing her. "You're valued, too! We need you!" His shoes squeak down the hall.

"Should I go after her too, or do you want to?" Aunt Rose asks Dad.

Dad glances at you. "Can you get home on your own?"

You nod.

"Let's go," he tells his wife, and they follow Amber together.

Absalom gathers himself to his feet and strides over to where his son still sits at the players' table. "That was a disappointing performance," he tells Noah. "You said if I let you join this team, you would be excellent. That wasn't excellence. That was mediocrity."

Noah nods.

"I'll be waiting outside," Absalom says. "You have a lot of research to catch up on tonight. Let's hope you don't bring mediocrity to that, too."

If looks could kill... well, it's lucky for Absalom that they don't, given how Ophie stares at him as he goes.

"C'mon," Summer tells her sister. "Let's get you home before Mom freaks out. Does she even know you're on this team?"

But Winter ignores her and approaches Noah. "Research?" She says. "Tonight's homecoming. Don't you have a date?"

"I'm busy."

"Oh, of course," Winter says. "A creep like you wouldn't have a date anyway, right? Right?" She laughs. "Hello? Earth to Noah. Do you copy?"

Noah just keeps staring at the table.

She ruffles his hair. "Hey, are you gonna let your dad walk all over you, or are you gonna be a man and stand up to him sometime this century? You don't have to let him turn you into his little bitch, you know! Or don't you have any balls? Guess not."

"He just wants excellence," Noah mutters.

Winter cackles. "Oh, of course! Excellence! Well if you aren't the dictionary definition of excellence, I don't know what is! Well, daddy's waiting, so you don't want to disappoint him, do you? Haha. Hey, how ab--"

Ophie taps Winter on the shoulder. Winter spins around. "Who the hell are you?" Winter says.

Ophie slaps her. Winter reels, clasping her reddening face, expression contorting into rage. She lunges to attack Ophie, but Ophie grabs her hair and yanks, forcing Winter still. Winter grits her teeth and bends severely to the side to lessen the pressure on her scalp. She grabs uselessly at Ophie's clutching fingers.

"Leave him alone," Ophie tells her.

Winter frees herself -- only because Ophie lets her. For a moment, Winter seems to consider whether to press things or back down. She chooses to back down. "Guess you freaks travel in packs," she says. She cracks her neck. "Mom knows," she tells Summer, "and she also knows I have a shift at Bosphorus Rare Books tonight. So don't wait up."

Winter glances at Noah again, who's still staring at the table. But when Ophie takes a step towards her, she quickly leaves.

You sit with Summer in the now-empty classroom. You at one of the desks, she leaning against it, staring at the tile ceiling. She swings one of her legs. You can't help staring at the way the edge of the desk bites into her thick thigh.

"Sisters suck," she says.

"Yep."

"Maybe it's a half-sister thing."

"Huh?" You say.

Summer looks back down. "Winter's only half my sister. Same deal as with you and Amber. My mom is Elizabeth Denali, but Winter's mom isn't."

"Oh... but-- she's younger than you."

"It's rough. Winter feels like she's the reason the marriage fell apart. So she's got, like, undiagnosed rage issues... she's more Inuit than I am, so that's a factor, too... Inuit women are scary mad."

"You're part Inuit?" You breathe.

"Uhhh. Yeah? I mean, only a quarter. And technically, Aleut, but hey... skimo's skimo, right?" When you marvel at her, she stomps, growing angry. "I told you this! So many times! Why the hell do you think my last name is Denali?"

You shrug. "I didn't really think about it."

"Assbutt," Summer says. "I don't know why I even let you fuck me."

"Because I'm a beast in the sack?" You try.

Summer considers this. "Well. I mean, sure. But -- well -- okay, sure. But!"

You reach behind her skirt and give her a squeeze. "Butt," you say.

She swats your hand away. "Cunt!"

"Now you're just baiting me."

"Maybe," she says, and winks.

"Are you really going with Lily to homecoming?" You ask her.

"Jealous?"

"I thought anything we do, we have to do together," you say. "That's all."

"Oh, trust me. When I fuck Lily, you'll be the first on the invite list."

"She's in Mr. S's room."

You and Summer glance towards the entrance. Talia is standing in the doorway.

"She's in Mr. S's room," Talia repeats, "by herself. Practicing her gamer skills."

"How are you everywhere?" Summer says, flabbergasted. "Are you a ghost, Snuggy Bear?"

Talia shrugs.

>[x] Meet up with Lily, bring Summer.

>[x] Meet up with Lily, bring Summer and Talia.

[ ] Stay back with Summer and Talia.

"Are you propositioning us?" You say.

"Sure," Talia says.

"You little pervert," Summer says. "Fucking your own students is a crime, you know?"

Talia shakes her head. "You're the ones fucking me."

"Because you owe us," you say.

"And the quicker I can pay off my debt to you, the sooner I can start letting you fuck me for free."

Summer giggles. "I'm always down. But how do you think Lily would react to that thing between your legs?"

You're a little worried a comment like that might be... hurtful? But Talia isn't upset, not even a little. "Why not find out?" She says.

You think about it. "You said you knew some safe places on campus to have sex?" You ask.

Talia nods. "The auto shop. The wood shop. The chemical storeroom."

"Those... don't sound safe," you say. "Safe from people, maybe. But otherwise, pretty dangerous. I don't want hydrochloric acid to spill on me when I'm having sex. Definitely don't want to get a splinter in my butthole, either."

"You can lay down a towel and it's just fine," Talia insists.

"Got anywhere else?" Summer asks her.

"The teacher's lounge," she says.

You snap. "Now that's more like it."

"Shall I go wait there?"

You glance at Summer. She's on your same wavelength:

"Let us soften her up," Summer says. "You can get our sloppy seconds, if she's down."

Talia nods. "Although of course, in this scenario, there's a chance I won't get to have any sex at all."

You sink to your knees in front of her. "Take off your skirt."

Talia wordlessly unclasps it and lets it fall to the floor.

"Wes..." Summer breathes. "You're so fucking dirty..."

She can say something humiliating like that, but you're still not too ashamed to suck a little cock as prelude to the main event. Especially not a cock at nice as Talia's. She pulls her panties down to her knees, freeing it. It's already halfway erect.

"Don't say I never do nice things for you," you tell her, stroking her to hardness, staring up into her eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Summer, will you suck me, too?"

Summer salutes her. Getting down on the floor with you, she wraps a hand around Talia's now fully hardened dick as well. Together, you and your girlfriend jerk your teacher off. She quietly whines from the pleasure.

Teasingly, you and Summer lick the sides of her shaft. You flick your tongues repeatedly out, swabbing her dickmeat with drool, but never lingering in any one spot. It drives Talia mad, and she starts to rock back and forth on her heels, rubbing herself between your puckered lips. The air fills with the slick noises of your dual blowjob.

Talia pets you both appreciatively, glad at the way you work to get her off. You and Summer respond by reaching behind her and groping her butt. She sighs -- she enjoys the rough treatment, too. She doesn't expect it at all when, with an evil giggle, Summer jams a finger past her anus, to make the treatment extra rough. This assault, so sudden and merciless, makes Talia's cockhead lose a few dribbles of precum, which you allow to roll to the back of your throat with a series of hungry slurps. From then on, she leaks continuously in her usual fashion... such a big, horny, leaky dick she has.

You prod a finger at the entrance of her asshole as well. Wiggling it around, you stretch her just enough to join Summer's finger already there. The whole time, you never stop staring Talia in the eye. Her face is doing that thing where it goes all droopy and faraway. She moans, drawing deep breaths, thrusts back and forth even harder -- fucking her cock between your lips, fucking her ass onto your fingers.

It isn't long before Talia loses a creamy load. It spurts thickly from the head of her dick. You and Summer fap her quickly, in tandem, letting those first couple squirts of dick juice spatter on the floor. But you're a hungry slut, and you want to taste it, so you wrap your mouth around Talia's cock, taking her length halfway to the hilt, to let her sperm your gullet. Summer keeps jerking Talia's dick to help burp out the rest of the spunk in Talia's balls. Talia makes sounds you've never heard her make, as she clutches the back of your head, and starts to fuck your face like it's a pocket pussy. You gag a little. She doesn't care. But it isn't long before her orgasm subsides, and she pulls out of your fuckhole of a mouth with a wet plop. A bridge of commingled spit, mucus, and cum link your tongue to her still-twitching cock. Summer gets beneath it, opens her mouth wide, and lets the nasty mixture seep onto her outstretched tongue. Then rising back up, she latches her lips to yours and runs her tongue around the back of your mouth, sucking up as much of Talia's leftover jizz as she can. You and Summer lez out a little, rubbing your tongues all around, swapping and savoring the bitter taste of Talia's milk between the two of you.

Talia puts on her clothes again. "I'll be in the teacher's lounge. Thanks for sucking me off."

---

You sit on the desk next to Lily's monitor.

"What do you want, slut bitch?" She says, not tearing her eyes from the screen.

You lean to one side to peer at the screen as well. "You need to build more pylons."

"I know I need to construct more fucking pylons!" Lily shouts, clicking madly. "What does it look like I'm doing? I need another loot llama first."

Summer sits on the other side of the monitor. "Do you ever do anything besides that stupid game?"

"Yeah. I fuck your mom."

"You sure wish," Summer says. "Why don't you try fucking me first?"

Lily looks from her, to you. Then back to her game. "Some things are more important than pussy. If you two sluts are horny, go have sex with each other. This is a ranked match."

Summer slips her foot out of her flat and turns the PC tower off with her big toe. "Oops," she says.

"You fucking--"

As Lily rises to her feet to strike Summer (or worse), Summer grabs her by the wrists and forces her back sitting. Then she gets into the chair with her, straddling her. Summer absolutely dwarfs Lily in size and, apparently, strength. Lily is totally helpless.

"Stupid fucking bitch," Lily snarls. "Let go-- of me--"

"Come on, don't be like that," Summer coos. "You really mean that game is more important than pussy? MY pussy? Weren't you texting me all day how you want me to sit on you?"

Lily breathes hard, writhes, and struggles against Summer. Summer leans in and starts sucking Lily's neck and face. The sight of your girlfriend completely overpowering Lily makes your own pussy clench and drip. You want to see more... you want to help. You want to help Summer rape her.

"Wes-- get your stupid slut girlfriend off me," Lily pleads, looking at you from over Summer's stooped back.

"Why should I?" You ask. You take off your skirt, and step out of your panties. Lily's eyes go wide with the realization that you're both going to take advantage of her. You spread your cunt for her to look at, slip a finger inside yourself, masturbate.

Lily is used to being the aggressor in sexual encounters. Getting double-teamed like this has her reeling. She shakes her head back and forth. "Y-you crazy bitches, it's 4 PM in the middle of a classroom! We're gonna get found out!"

"Then be quick," Summer says hotly, switching her mouth from one side of Lily's brown neck to the other.

"Be quick about what?" Lily demands.

"Be quick making us cum." She takes Lily's wrist and guides her hand under the ruffled hem of her cheer uniform. "Come on. Play with my pussy for me. Make me squirt."

Lily grunts. Whether she'll admit it or not, she can't say no to the offer of free pussy to grope. Especially not a pussy as fucking luscious as Summer Denali's. Lily's eyes glaze over just getting her thin hand inside Summer's panties. Finding that wet, plump, pulsing mound, being able to touch it with bare fingers, slipping those fingers inside and feeling how much Summer can juice, how overheated Summer can get. Lily, you can plainly tell, is in yuri paradise right now, fingerblasting your girlfriend in her cheerleading outfit. Any facade of resistance or hesitation Lily put up is demolished the instant she gets her hands on Summer's cunt. Instead of fighting it, she starts doing what comes naturally to her, playing with it, making Summer feel good using well-practiced ministrations.

It's enough to make you want to cum, too.

Summer forces her tongue into Lily's mouth. She has to really hunch over to make it work -- to kiss Lily at the same time Lily fingers her. The size discrepancy is so large. Lily sucks on Summer's tongue and diddles Summer's horny twat.

"Do you want me to sit on you first?" Summer asks. "Or do you want Wes to sit on you?"

"Sit on me...?" Lily asks, dazed.

"Okay," Summer giggles.

She drags Lily out of the chair and forces her onto the floor. When Lily tries to get up, Summer straddles her face and sits on her with an audible plop. Lily convulses. "Suck me through my panties," Summer commands with a sneer. "Come on. Eat me. Isn't this what you wanted?"

The way Summer sits on Lily's face, squeezing Lily's head with her fat thighs, forcing her sodden, stained panties into Lily's mouth and nose -- flips a new switch in Lily's oversexed brain. She wraps her hands around Summer's upper calves and starts to rub her face back and forth in Summer's crotch like a dog lapping at the water bowl. She bites, too, like biting down on a ripe peach. Summer isn't any less violent. She bounces up and down, gripping Lily by the back of her head, way more viciously than Talia grabbed you earlier. She fucks Lily's head into the floor and works herself into a shiny, drippy sweat. The entire top of her cheer outfit becomes soggy and half transparent. Her bronze skin glimmers with perspiration. You can smell her from here, that heady mixture of coconut and grime, and you know that it has to be completely melting Lily's brain right now.

But you're more interested in something else. You get on your belly between Lily's legs. She's wearing hotpants, which slide easily off her thin hips. Underneath that she has on pantyhose -- but no undies. Just perfect for you. You rip them at the crotch without a care, eliciting angry an muffled "mmmmf" from her that accomplish nothing but tickling Summer's fat clit. Lily's beautiful coffee-brown cunt is fully exposed now, freed from the stuffy confines of her stockings. Her feminine scent wafts over you, making you lightheaded and dizzy. You just love the way a wet cunt smells from up close, and Lily's is as flowery and sweet as any. You get your nose against her clitoral hood, to smell her arousal directly at its source, and let your tongue rake lazily up and down her pussy lips. Her tart flavor, like sour candy, makes you freely salivate.

Lily is really shuddering now. Your skilled mouth paired with Summer's cruel facefucking have her body all confused, and she leaks her girlcum like the fucking whore she is. "Does Wes eat pussy good?" Summer asks, gyrating. You can see the very top of Lily's head as she nods vigorously.

Summer can't take it anymore. She needs to feel a tongue on her bare cunt. She rises just enough to tug her panties down, and then settles again on Lily's face. "Come on. Make me cum on you."

You put a couple fingers in Lily's tight pussy and twist them around while you lick her. You want to really overload her senses. Judging by the way her inner walls spasm around you, it's working.

"That's it... that's it..." Summer repeats, throwing her head back, exalting in the thrill of being on top. She grinds back and forth, runs a hand around her navel. She lifts her skirt up. You can see her cute tan asshole and the back of her puffed-up pussy. "I'm gonna cum on her stupid fucking face, Wes... watch me cum on her! Watch me!"

From between Lily's legs, lapping at Lily's cunt and ass, you watch. Summer's muscles flex and her fatty parts ripple as she rides Lily's grunting face to orgasm. Her cum is as voluminous as ever, and she doesn't give Lily a chance to breathe. Not that Lily wants it. Lily buries her face in Summer's gash and slurps on her ejaculating cunt like a pig at a trough, totally debasing herself.

It's at this precise moment that you pull your suckling mouth off Lily's pussy and your fingers out of her hole.

Lily shudders again, and cums wetly all over the carpet, but it isn't an orgasm that satisfies. You've left her desperate for something more. You know because as soon as Summer dismounts her face, she's yelling:

"Come on! I was so close! What the fuck!"

"Do you want to really cum?" You say.

"Yes!" Lily says. Half angry, half begging. She can't help rubbing herself, fingering her tiny twat. With her other hand, she paws at her little tits. She writhes around on the floor, face totally splattered with Summer's juices, cravenly pleading for the orgasm you've denied her.

"Do you want to reee-aaally cum, though?" Summer says, grabbing Lily's jilling hand to stop her from bringing herself off.

---

"It's safer in here," you explain, opening the door to the teacher's lounge. "We can get totally naked... make a lot of noise... have a lot of fun."

"I'm not sucking dick," Lily warns you.

Talia, reading a book at her favorite table, glances up. "You don't have to. I'm fine just watching."

She sets the book aside and closes the door behind the three of you, locking it.

"It's true, then?" Lily asks her. "What these two said--"

"Yes. Are you curious?"

Lily doesn't say. No matter. Talia takes her skirt off, and her panties, too. She hoists herself up and sits bare-assed on the table, naked from the waist down save for knee-high socks, her cock jutting up from between her legs.

"You don't have to suck it," Talia repeats. "But you can if you want to."

It makes your mouth water. If Lily doesn't take her up on the offer, you just may -- again.

Lily quickly gets undressed, standing stark naked under the bright, low fluorescents of the teacher's lounge. "I just wanna cum," she says.

"Let me handle that," Summer giggles, getting on her knees.

"Me too," you say.

You and Summer orally service Lily together. She's as flexible as anyone -- very easy to get her leg hiked up so it's nearly parallel with her torso. It allows you and Summer the ample room you need to work. Summer sucks hungrily on her pussy and you probe your tongue around inside her tiny, hot little asshole. Lily runs a hand through her hair and enjoys the freedom to really let loose. She plays with her own tits and stares lovingly down at your sucking mouths. "Finger me too," she begs, so you and Summer put some fingers in both her lower holes. She cums in Summer's bleach blonde hair and sighs and mewls from the much-needed relief it brings.

But Lily's attention is divided, and it shows. She keeps stealing glances in Talia's direction. Talia sits on the table playing with her cock while she watches this lesbian threesome -- not interfering whatsoever, true to her promise.

Summer looks mischievously up at Lily over her puffy mound. "You're curious, huh?"

"No..." Lily says, and looks away.

You glance over at Talia. "You wanna fuck?" You ask her.

"Are you offering?" Talia asks.

You give Lily's winking back hole a parting smooch. You make it really count: it's a long, wet, gentle French kiss, one that smears trails of saliva all over her, inside and out -- you kiss Lily's asshole like you're making out with her mouth. It's deep, sensual, and loud. Lily inhales hard through gritted teeth. Her sizzling eyes follow you, then, as you rise to your feet and get as naked as she is. It's so fun to get totally nude in places you're not allowed to -- exhilarating, really -- it heightens the thrill of sex.

You bend yourself over the table, right beside Talia's butt, and spread your ass with both hands. "Fuck me," you tell her.

"Where do you want it?" She asks, staring down at your tender, slightly parted holes.

"In my cunt."

"I don't have any condoms," she warns you.

"Good."

She hops down from the table and throws off her blouse. Wearing only those pretty black socks, then, she takes over the job of spreading your ass. She parts the cheeks with both thumbs and admiringly examines both your lower holes. Just this, just being examined in such a stark and coldly anatomical way, almost makes you orgasm. You chew your knuckles.

"I'll let you know when I'm about to blow," she says.

"Don't," you say. "Just let it go inside me..."

Even Talia can be surprised. She exhales an audible little puff of air. But she won't say no to an offer like that. She plunges the full length of her cock into your gash. Your body swallows her easily -- all the way to the hilt.

"Ooooh," Talia sighs. You're happy to help her find such sweet relief for her aching cock. "You have... such a nice pussy, Wes. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Your eyes are already rolling to the back of your head as Talia establishes a steady pace inside you. You can feel her cockhead battering your cervix. You want more. "A few people..." you answer.

Talia holds you around the hips and starts to really hammer you. She isn't gentle, and doesn't feel any need to keep it quiet. The sound of your flesh smacking together echoes off the walls. "This... this is why I'm glad I've got a dick..." she says.

"Hmm?" You say, glancing back at her over your shoulder.

But she just presses cruelly down on you, forcing your face against the table as she hunches forward and hugs you. She lies with her belly against your back. Drooling like an animal, she whispers in your ear: "because I love putting it inside things..."

You hear a wet pattering behind you, and then Lily shrieking: "fuck yes! Drink my cum! Drink it!"

"Sounds like Lily is cumming in your girlfriend's mouth..." Talia whispers. She kisses your neck.

"Yeah..."

"I'm about to cum in you," Talia says, locking eyes with you.

"Do it," you say, and kiss her on the lips.

She rises up, supporting her weight on her flattened palms, and pounds you like you're a fuckdoll. You feel totally defenseless and defeated underneath her. You love it. Her hips become a blur, your uterus becomes her cocksleeve, and then -- she goes totally still. You're confused for a split instant. Then you feel it. Her cock rumbles, once, twice, and a third time: deep, dry, throbbing spasms, like the warning rumbles of a volcano, that make her glans expand and push cruelly against your already bruised insides. Finally she starts to ejaculate. She blows a piping hot load of ball milk directly into your baby room. She stays completely motionless through the entire event, motionless that is except for her belching cock, which shudders and throbs and spews its fertile spunk all over your back walls, painting them with merciless insistence.

Once she's had her fill of your underage cunt -- once she's done cumming as deep as she can up your hole -- she pulls out of it with the same thoughtlessness as pulling out of an onahole. Her spunk pours out of you, down your legs, and to the floor.

"Wanna fuck me next?" Summer asks.

Talia nods. So Summer, flipping up her miniskirt, lies across the table beside you, and offers up her bare cunt for Talia to rape, too.

"Same question I asked Wes," Talia says.

"Cunt please!" Summer says with the same careless ease as picking out an ice cream flavor.

"I'll cum inside you," Talia tells her.

"Cool," Summer replies.

Talia's eyelids droop and her tongue lolls out as her raw dick gets its first taste of gyaru pussy. She pounds away at Summer's twat, smearing Summer's insides with the vestiges of her first orgasm, and getting ready to lose a second fresh load in her deepest parts.

You, still bent over the table, still oozing Talia's spunk, lock eyes with Lily as she circles the table.

"I can't believe you take dick, too," Lily says.

"Why not?" You say. "It feels good."

"So fucking good..." Summer agrees, drooling a little, as Talia laces some fingers through her blonde hair and pushes her face into the tabletop.

"Sluts," Lily says.

"Oh, and you're not?" You say.

"Cumming," Talia grunts. She does the same thing she did with you -- going stock-still, her cock twitching and her balls churning as she seeds Summer's hot cunt. Lily stares, wide-eyed, forgetting herself and her supposedly judgemental attitude.

"She can fuck you too, if you want," you tell her.

When Talia pulls out of Summer's pussy, you can hear the wet splattering of cum on the floor. It sounds like a wet mop hitting the tile.

Talia takes a step back, letting her cum-smeared cock stand proudly at attention. "Your choice," she says, tugging on it.

Lily stares at the lewd sight, indecisive. You try a gambit you've seen work in the past: "it's fine. You can let her fuck you just a little, right?"

Lily frowns at you. "Are you retarded, Wes? There ain't no 'just a little' with fucking."

You frown back at her. "Fine, then. You can let her fuck you a lot. You can let her stick her dick in you and cum inside you. You can let her use your pussy. I know you want to."

"I promise it will still be gay," Talia says.

Lily, shaking her head, gets between you and Summer, and -- just like you and Summer -- she bends over the table for Talia to fuck her.

"Do you want it in your cunt, too?" Talia asks.

Lily nods.

Talia offers Lily no chance to reconsider. She grabs Lily's hips and slams herself home. Lily may be a committed lesbian, but she's played with dildos plenty, and takes a real cock with no issue. Talia is balls deep up her chocolate twat in an instant, and then she starts to rut with the same merciless desperation to get off that she had with you and Summer.

"Oh... my god..." Lily groans. "It's... so hot..."

"Isn't it the best?" Summer says.

"Uh huh," Lily moans. She kisses with Summer. The two swap spit and Lily clearly gets off on tasting her own cum in Summer's mouth. You get a little jealous, so you pull Lily's face towards yours instead.

While you and Summer take turns kissing Lily, Talia uses the opportunity to play with your cunts. Fucking in and out of Lily, Talia molests you and Summer with either hand. She even gets a thumb in each of your assholes -- it hurts, and leaves you wincing. You revel in the debauchery.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me" Lily repeats, growing incoherent as Talia feeds her the entire length of her horny dick. The table clatters beneath her. The sluicing noises of Talia's unprotected cock sawing in and out of Lily's pussy are like music to you. With a particularly forceful jab of her thumb up your asshole, Talia announces: "cumming again." And then she does. Balls deep, hip-to-butt, standing on her tiptoes, Talia jizzes inside Lily's lez pussy.

"Oh, fuuuuuuck," Lily sighs, getting off on being bred. "Oh god, it's so fucking... fucking hot... oh my fuck..."

You pull Lily's face to yours and root your tongue around her mouth. Summer pets her. And behind you, Talia dumps her swimmers into Lily until her balls are totally empty.

GIRLS FUCKED: 5/9

---

Amelia was kind enough to get your cheongsam steam-cleaned and pressed. You can't see any trace on the beautiful blue silk of the misuse this garment suffered in the dressing room at Fōtsūtsū. You like the way it clings to your body and describes your every contour -- it makes you feel sexy rather than gross (which is how you usually feel). But, turning to one side to look at yourself in profile in your full-length mirror, you're not happy with the way the side of your panties is visible through the leg-slit. You try tugging your waistband up until you've given yourself a wedgie, but it's no use. The dress is simply cut too high to conceal your underwear.

You stare hard at your reflection, weighing options as you fiddle with the apex of the cheongsam's slit. Shikata ga nai. An illicit thrill tingles in the pit of your stomach as you stoop over and pull your panties down your legs, over your ankles and off your feet, discarding them like a candy wrapper. You stand tall again and give your reflection another apprising glance. Now all you can see through the dress's slit is hipbone. Looks great.

N-Mom sits you in front of her vanity and does your hair up in buns. She knows how, not owing to her ethnic heritage, but owing to the phase of her life in which she cosplayed and attended cons. This is the first time you've been in the Moms' room since... that night... and it feels really strange.

"How do I look? Good?" You ask.

"You look like Chun-Li," N-Mom says as she works.

"That's what I said..."

"I mean, I'm pretty sure this is a Chun-Li cosplay outfit. Or at least inspired by it. So that checks out."

"Are you saying you wouldn't fuck Chun-Li?" K-Mom asks, from where she sits on the foot of the bed.

"Cammy is cuter," N-Mom replies. She glances over her shoulder at her wife. "You'd look good as Cammy."

"I'd look like a bimbo if I went blonde."

"Yes," N-Mom says.

"Best I can do for you is E Honda," K-Mom says.

N-Mom grimaces. She goes back to primping your hair, affixing the silk covers that go over either one. "Anyway, you're cute," she says. "Better than cute." She leans in, cheek to cheek, and whispers as she locks eyes with you in the mirror, "you probably think you're going to get lucky tonight, not wearing underwear like that."

Your eyes go wide. Is it that obvious you're going nopan? You never intended for that.

"I hate to disappoint you," she continues, "but I'm going to have to be there, too. For your safety. And then it's straight home."

You stare at her reflection in the mirror for a very long time. "I mean..." you begin, mouth dry. "That doesn't mean I won't get lucky..."

N-Mom straightens her posture again and finishes with your hair buns. "Maybe if we get home early enough, you can invite this Will person to come inside."

"You would just love that, wouldn't you," K-Mom sneers.

N-Mom shrugs. "Hospitality is important, even at a time like this. Of course, if Wes wants to bring someone else home tonight, I'm not going to be close-minded and stop her."

"Remember," K-Mom tells you, "teenage pregnancy is one of America's biggest epidemics. You can never be too careful. No girl ever got pregnant dating another girl..."

Maybe you'll end up proving K-Mom wrong on that one, you think.

N-Mom slaps both your shoulders, startling you more with the noise than the force of it. "The important thing is that you're safe and happy. And that you have fun. So let's go have you some fun, huh?"

When Will's mother pulls up in her hoopty that rumbles and sputters and backfires as it idles on the curbside, you're waiting out in your driveway as you promised. She must not think you can hear her from over here, but you can, and her concerns are the opposite of K-Mom's. "See if you can get her pregnant. Marrying into money would be great."

"Mom..." Will groans.

She watches through the passenger-side window as Will steps out. He makes rather a show of striding towards you like he's prince fucking charming. He theatrically shouts, "oh my god, you're beautiful! I'm so attracted to you!"

"Thank you," you say, unsure how else you're meant to respond.

He glances back to confirm his mom is still watching. And then he goes in for the kiss. His line delivery may be atrocious, granted -- but his kissing is still enough to make you feel like a melting ice cream cone. It has an insistence to it that isn't pushy, and a firmness that isn't rough. The inside of his mouth tastes really good this time, too. He must have been drinking Listerine by the bottle, because his wintry flavor actually makes your tongue start to tingle the way it does when gargling mouthwash.

As you kiss with him, you hear the sound of a camera shutter and your peripheral vision fills with the white flash. N-Mom snapped a photo.

"What the--" you begin.

"Just commemorating the moment. I'm sure Kay will love to see this!"

Will's mom drives off. Will watches her go, and in that moment you notice a tag sticking out of the shoulder-pad of his suit jacket. You yank it off.

"Hey--! This thing's a rental!"

"That doesn't mean you can't pull the tag off, Will," you tell him. You glance at it. "$50 a night? Good lord."

"But how's it look?" He asks.

It's ill-fitting, with arms that go well past his wrists and a jacket hem that doesn't reach all the way to his belt. The lavender dress shirt beneath is wrinkled. The trousers leave his ankles visible. He's wearing tennis shoes.

"You look even better than I expected," you tell him.

Will grins. "Aww yeah. You're fucking hot tonight, too. Gimme a high five. High fives for hotties."

You give him a listless high five. He cackles with buoyant enthusiasm, and leaves his palm high in the air, offering it to N-Mom now. Flummoxed but trying to be polite, she lays five on him too. He cackles again.

Although she has no date and will be spending the whole night above the dancefloor operating the lights, Ophie wears a dress. It's spectacular. A long, flowing black evening gown that sparkles with sequins, and an opalescent pearl necklace with matching earrings. Her pumps add about six inches to her height, putting her above you, which makes you feel weird, to say the least. The outfit, you assume, was Aunt Whitney's big idea. She's snapping photo after photo of Ophie and Amber posing in their dresses.

"Wes!" Whitney says as she sees you coming through the front door. "C'mere, nerd. Come stand by your sisters. That's it. Hell yes." She snaps some more photos. Will hangs awkwardly back, but not for long. "Will, get your gay ass over here," Whitney commands. "Come on. There were go. Get your arms around your beard. Hug her tight. That's it. Oh my god, you're all so goddamn cute. This is just the best. The best!"

You glance down, and spy the frilly carnation-pink hem of Amber's panties through her cheongsam's leg slit. You grin to yourself.

Auburn shows up in a suit that probably cost the GDP of a small island nation -- like, say... Kiribati, or Tuvalu, or Vanuatu... or one of those other ones, you can't remember all of them. Whitney makes him and Amber pose together over Amber's strident objections -- "Mom! No! Fuck you! Don't you dare!" et cetera.

Renee arrives a few moments later. Accompanying her is David Darkbloom. Your stomach curdles when you see him. You can't think about anything other than the idea that he somehow, in some way, has orchestrated the insanity you've been through these past weeks.

"Ophelia," he says. "You are gorgeous."

Ophie, who has no idea there's anything amiss, runs up and hugs her grandpa. "Pop," she says into his jacket. Ophie isn't a strong girl, but she almost knocks David down when she barrels into him. It surprises you -- you figured David was a little sturdier than that.

"I just can't believe you don't have a date," Renee says. "It's criminal. You're too beautiful not to be dating!"

David says, stepping back to admire his granddaughter, "if she doesn't want to date anyone just yet, that's perfectly all right. I don't want her fooling around with boys anyway."

"Boys, or boy?" Renee says.

David declines to answer.

Whitney is still snapping photos of Amber and Auburn, unaware of Dad standing behind her, arms folded, watching with a severe frown. Of course, while Whitney may be unaware, Auburn certainly isn't. He's stricken with the fear of god, staying stiff and well-distanced from Amber. He only hoverhands her despite Whitney's cajoling.

But you keep glancing back at David Darkbloom, who's busy explaining to Ophie the benefits of a New England education. He wants her to go to MIT.

"Something the matter, Wes?" Renee asks you.

You shake your head. "Huh? Oh, no..."

She doesn't seem to buy it, but she doesn't press.

>[x] See if you can get some information from David Darkbloom.

[ ] Forget it for now.

First, you need to defuse Renee's suspicion. And what better way than having her answer something that still bugs you?

"Dr. Carte," you say, pulling her gently aside. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"If I minded, I suppose I'd already be pretty mad at you," she says.

You clear your throat. "...Right. This is going to sound weird, but. Can two men get pregnant? Not like -- just by having sex-- uh, sexual intercourse. But like as a medical procedure, you know? For surrogate parents."

Renee stares at you, lips slightly parted. Finally, she says, "let's pretend this conversation never happened."

"Yeah," you agree instantly, "okay. Yep."

Renee turns back towards her grandchild: "Ophie, you can get into college later. Tonight's a night for you to enjoy being in high school! Come here..." The two of them hug. Renee squeezes her. "David doesn't like to hear it, but you are going to be such a maneater one day. Do you mind if I take some pictures, too? You can't say no! You don't want to break an old woman's heart!"

She guides Ophie back to the others, leaving you alone with David.

David watches from a chair in the den, a warm smile on his face. He sits with a wide stance, a hand on either of his knees, and doesn't seem like he's too comfortable in his skin right now.

You approach him. "Uh. How's it hanging?"

"Just fine, thank you. You look very nice tonight, Wesley. Is that boy your date?" He points at Will, who's joking with Whitney by the fireplace. Will says something that makes them both snort in the same way at the same time.

"Yeah."

"He never struck me as... well-- you never really seemed... anyway. Have fun tonight, yes?"

"Do you believe in God?" You ask.

David blinks confusedly. "That's a sudden question to ask. Have you never learned that religion and politics make for bad conversation topics?"

"With strangers. Not family."

David rubs his mouth. The thought that you and he are family seems a little alien to him. But he doesn't dispute it. "Why do you ask?"

You play on his ego. "You're probably the smartest person I know. I've been reading a lot about religion, and... I was wondering what you think."

"I wouldn't want to influence your spiritual development, in one way or the other," David answers.

"I'm an atheist," you tell him. "So if you're an atheist too, no harm done. And if you're religious, well... you have the chance to proselytize."

David chuckles. "You do take after your father. Fine. Since you're so curious. I am a committed atheist, Wesley. I believe there is no God but man."

"You're not religious, then?"

"Does a lack of belief in the deity mean I'm not religious? Well -- that's a more complex question." He coughs into his fist. "Why don't you stop tiptoeing around it and ask me what you really want to ask me."

"What do you me--"

"Ask me whether I'm an Instrumentalist. Go on."

Your blood runs cold. "I don't... I'm not... you mean like in a band?"

"I am well aware of what happened the other week with your little friend Summer. Your father told me everything. He confides in me, and I confide in him. So of course I know already."

You narrow your eyes. If he wants to be frank, you'll be frank too. "Well, are you?"

"How did you get it into your head that I may be in this cult?"

You're silent.

"Right," David says. "Consider your sources. Consider that sometimes the people who claim to be on your side are not working with your best interests at heart." He pats you on the shoulder, and then uses you to help himself stand. He groans with the effort of getting up from the chair. "I'm an old man now, Wesley. If I didn't find religion already, I certainly won't now. Enjoy your night out. And keep yourself out of matters you have no business being involved with."

---

Amber is going around the dancefloor with a bible in her hand. She sticks it between pairs of dancing partners to measure their distance.

"Jeeeesus, you're way too far apart," she says, nudging two dancers together. And: "Get closer, you two! I don't want to see any gaps between you!" And: "Hey! What's with this spacing? You'll never lose your virginity like that! Idiots..."

Ophie's light show is as masterful as you would expect. You can't believe there's only one person on the catwalks above you manipulating all these spotlights -- making the multicolored pools sweep and slide and swirl gently around -- some of the lights large, dim, and gauzy, others small ellipses with hard edges that cast the dancers in polka-dot pinpricks. She brightens and lowers the lights, quickens and slows their motions, in keeping with the music's tempo. And she does it all without ever making her presence felt. It's like the lights are operating themselves.

Will dances with you. You're not sure why you're extending the polite fiction as far as this -- it's not like his parents are here to see, and he's an uncoordinated mess. So are you. You fumble around like fish out of water, bumping into other pairs, making other people angry.

"Sorry..." Will mumbles. To you, not to the people he's helping piss off.

Summer is much more skilled. She totes Lily around the gymnasium like a Spanish tango dancer, and Lily has no choice but to follow her lead. When Summer puts an arm behind Lily's tailbone and tilts her precariously back so that one of her heels leaves the ground, she cries out in fear, and Summer giggles. With the back of Lily's head parallel to the ground and only a foot away from bonking on it, Summer plants a kiss directly on Lily's trembling lips.

"Crazy bitch, you're gonna drop me!" Lily says.

"Oh, you don't like getting dropped, huh?" Summer says. "But you drop everyone else."

"Fuck," Lily heaves when Summer lets her stand.

"Wes and me aren't your pump-and-dump playmates," Summer says. "We'll come knocking again..."

You lose track of them as they twirl around the dancefloor.

Will's eyes usually appear dull brown, but in this lighting, you can see the flecks of green in his irises, like the patina on old copper. "Thanks for doing this for me," he says.

You nod.

"You don't have to hang out with me anymore. You already did the thing for my mom, so this is all kinda pointless, right? I know it's weirdening you out."

"I'm not weirdened," you insist.

Your rhythm with him gets easier as you turn and sway. You stop trying to cover as much ground together, content to just stand in place and slowly revolve and shimmy. The others have to route themselves around you like river water around a solid boulder.

"I meant it, you know," Will says.

"Meant what?" You say.

"I'm attracted to you. You're cute."

"Good lord, Will. You can't just say you're attracted to someone out of the blue like that. There's a whole... like... process to that."

Will chuckles under his breath. "But I said it before."

"You were acting!"

"Kinda yes, but kinda no. That's what I'm telling you."

"I thought you weren't into girls."

"Ehhhhhhh," he says, making an expression that you have no idea how to read. What did he mean by that?

"You're not trying to marry into money, are you?" You ask.

"Oh fuck, no. Amber's gonna give me $10 million when I graduate, like, on condition that I don't give any to mom. So that's fine."

You never took your sister for such a philanthropist.

"Well... anyway." He stops dancing, lets you go, takes a step back from you. "It was nice, what you did. That's my only point." He jerks a thumb in the direction of one of the far walls: "I'm gonna go check out the snack table."

>[x] "Keep dancing with me."

>[x] A break sounds good.

You're blushing, and you can't maintain eye contact. You want his body warmth near you again. "Will you... keep dancing with me?" You ask tenderly, your voice quavering.

"Do I have to?"

Your shoulders slump. You frown. "What the fuck kind of answer is that?"

"I mean, I'll keep dancing with you if you want," he says, suddenly apologetic.

"Now I don't want to anymore!" You throw your arms up in the air. "That's a really insensitive thing to say to a girl! I was totally vulnerable just now!"

"Sorry, sorry! It's just -- we both suck at dancing, and I'm super hungry. You can come and snack with me if you want. I'm way fine with being on a date with you. I'm not trying to ghost you or anything. I really like you, Wessy! We're just not gonna be the next Dancing With the Stars stars. Right?"

You sigh and follow him to the buffet table. You're hungry, too.

---

Will is officially off the wagon.

"Yo, get a load of this cheese," he says, eating cubes of it off toothpicks, one after another. Through a half full mouth, he says: "thif cheef if outta thf worl. F'real." Swallowing hard, he burps, and adds -- to himself, you think, more than anything -- "God, I love cheese."

"Cheese is nothing but protein and fat," you say.

Will is deliberately ignoring your dietary warnings as he shoves toothpick after toothpick into his maw. Well, may as well join him. You're a sucker for appetizers too.

Shoulder to shoulder, you and your date demolish almost the entire platter of party cheeses. Gouda, Swiss, cheddar, feta, and pepper jack. You're aware of others trying to get closer to the platter, but you and Will jealously keep them away by refusing to move.

Glancing to the opposite side of the table, you're surprised to see Lily and Summer by the punchbowl. Lily is in Summer's lap, chest-to-chest on a folding chair. But this isn't anything lewd. She has Summer's head tilted back, using a pair of tweezers for their intended purpose -- not to enhatten houseflies but to pull an errant eyelash from Summer's eye.

"Did you get it?" Summer asks, panicky, waggling her fists.

"Does it fuckin' look like I got it? Hey-- stay still, goddamn it-- fuck--"

"Ow, OW!!"

"I didn't even touch you."

Lily pulls the eyelash away and examines it between the tweezer prongs. While she's distracted, Summer punches her in the butt. "Ow!" Lily yells. She punches Summer in the tit. "OW!" Summer yells, doubling over.

"I see this date is going as well for you two as I thought it would," you tell them.

"I'm never doing you a favor again," Lily says, as she gets up from Summer's lap and pours herself a glass of punch.

"Good! You won't have another chance to blind me!"

"I didn't blind you! No thanks to you squirming the whole time!" She sips her drink, looking around. Over the rim of her cup, she says, "hey, Will. Is your dyke treating you any better than mine is?"

Will waves.

"Any reason you're putting up this whole charade?" Lily asks him, pronouncing "charade" to rhyme with "pod."

"It's not an act. It's a real date," Will says. Summer arches a brow. "Plus... I don't want my parents knowing about me. How did you come out?"

Lily swallows, sets her empty cup aside. "I was sitting at the table doing homework and I said hey, just so you know, I'm a lesbian."

"Just like that? Your parents were cool with it?"

"Marquis was in the kitchen chopping onions and all he said was, 'girl!' Uh, Dad was over by the counter, and he asked, 'are you sure?' I said, '98%. Maybe 100% if I date someone.' He said, 'then you're gonna be stuck at 98% for a while huh.' Asshole..."

"Course it was easy for you, having gay parents and all," Will says.

Lily shrugs. "Not that easy. Dad has this weird thing against lesbians. Thinks they're too promiscuous."

"I don't know what would have ever given him an idea like that," you say, plainly sarcastic.

Lily misses the sarcasm. "Me neither."

"...Promiscuous? What, like a Greek god?" Summer asks, sitting forward in her seat.

"That's Prometheus," Lily tells her. "Dumb bitch."

Summer pouts.

"Technically, Prometheus was a titan," you tell her.

"Go fuck yourself," Lily says, and that ends the confusion.

"So he got pretty bent out of shape about it, then?" Will asks. "Your dad."

"Not really. It's just he thinks I'll be a virgin on my wedding night or some shit. Oh. One time he told me, 'you better not let me catch you getting married more than once.' So you see how overprotective he is."

"Catch you getting married?" You say. You wonder how someone can be caught getting married. Marriage doesn't seem like something conducted stealthily. Although if anyone would do it, it would probably be Lily.

Summer gets behind you, kisses you on the side of your face and wraps her arms around you. With her nose so close to your ear, her deep breaths through her nostrils are almost deafening. "What's that I heard about this being a 'real' date, huh?"

You shrug.

"I already have to share you with all these girls," Summer says. "I have to share you with guys now, too?"

You look to the side, where Will is back to horking down appetizers. "I mean, we all have to share," you say. "I have to share Will with cheese, for example."

Summer runs her hand up the side of your leg. "You dressed like a slut tonight," she whispers, tracing her finger across the cheongsam's high-cut slit. "Where's your underwear, huh?"

Your heart skips. It's really that obvious, huh? You didn't expect so many people to notice. But you play it off coolly. "At home," you tell her. You turn your head up and to the side, to kiss her. Simultaneously, you reach behind yourself to wrap your arms around her neck, and sway in place with her -- it's an awkward yet somehow comfy position. She holds you by the hips.

"Yeah?" she says. "Are you planning on taking Will home with you, too?"

[ ] Yes.

>[x] I'm planning on taking you both.

[ ] No, I'd rather take you.

Summer giggles. "I can't believe I'm dating such a dirty slut." She pokes you in your hip, where your panties should be. "You'll spread your legs for anyone, won't you?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You love it."

"I think all that hentai, like, fried your brainmeat. That's what I think."

"Hmm. Maybe."

Summer glances around. "Hey. What happened to the lights?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're not moving anymore."

You stop gazing into Summer's eyes and take a second to pay some attention to your surroundings. Summer's right. The light show stopped.

"I'll go check on Ophie," you say.

You go behind the bleachers where there's a ladder leading to the catwalks above. You're not a very sneaky person, and you're not trying to sneak right now anyway, but nonetheless Ophie remains oblivious to your presence as you climb up.

You're both surprised and unsurprised. At the far end of the main platform, Ophie and Noah are sitting together -- their limbs all entangled, their mouths pressed together. Making out. It sounds like two people messily eating spaghetti. The two are all twiggy limbs and smacking lips and awkward groping. Ophie's glasses are fogged and half askew, Noah's are missing entirely. Noah's coat is half off his body, and Ophie's cardigan, which she must have put on over her strapless dress to keep herself warm, is similarly disheveled.

You're happy for her. But this feels like watching a really gross nature documentary... that cheese is starting to disagree with you.

You take a step back. Unfortunately, the corrugated metal creaks beneath your feet. The lovebirds startle.

"W-Wes!" Ophie says, kicking her feet to scoot away and extricate herself from Noah's embrace.

Noah feels around for his glasses. Grabbing them like a caveman grabbing a rock to beat someone, he shoves them on his face. He's breathing heavily as he says "we were... um."

"Weren't you researching something tonight?" You ask him.

Noah clears his throat. "I told my father I was going out."

You nod. "...Well, don't let me interrupt you."

"Mm," Ophie says.

You turn your back on them and start towards the ladder. You're hardly halfway to it before you hear their lips smacking again.

---

You lurk on the periphery of the gym, thinking about what you just saw. You briefly consider telling Amber, or Summer, but... nah. You'll be the cool sister and keep it under wraps unless and until Ophie decides to say something.

Some of the teachers at PAP are also chaperoning tonight. But they honestly have very little to do. The music turns slow, yielding to a romantic, almost dirge-like ballad. And as the instrumentation swells, you spy Mr. S finding his way to Talia, sidling up to her where she sits. "Would you perchance take this dance with me, my lady sweet?" He asks, facing firmly forward, sweating profusely.

Talia's head swivels in place to mutely regard him. Mr. S simpers and his facial muscles twitch. Rather than answer with words, Talia peels the top hat from the tip of her nose and puts it on the tip of Mr. S's. Mr. S crosses his eyes to examine it, blushes, and mutters: "i-indirect eskimo kiss..."

Amber isn't hanging around anymore. You wonder where she could be. She was dreading tonight for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that Raisin Mommy, PTA queen and noted crazy person, is supposed to be here. Is Amber outside, maybe, trying to keep her distance?

---

"Mom... for the last time--"

Auburn's mother sounds frazzled and upset: "Yes. It's true. I know I sound crazy, but I also know what I remember. What I've been able to remember. It just takes an open mind. Auburn-- Amber-- I don't expect you to understand it. Not at first. But please keep an open mind."

"I'm sorry, Amber," Auburn says -- maybe the first time you've ever heard that combination of syllables from him. You stay hidden around the corner of the school building, eavesdropping on their conversation like a creep.

"You ought to be sorry," Amber says. "Your mother is out of her fucking tree."

"Amber, please," Auburn's mom says. She reaches for Amber's hand.

Auburn interposes himself between them. He points accusingly at his mother. "You said you were done with this. You said if I let you come here tonight, you'd stop saying all this crazy stuff about Amber. How dare you?"

"I love you," she says. "I love you both. I just want you to hear me out..."

"Go home."

"Auburn--"

"No. Leave us alone. Both of us. You want to walk the middle path, mom? Walk it by yourself. I'm done with this stupid bullshit." He shakes his head. After a beat, he says, "Let's go, Amber."

He tugs her by the wrist. Amber shouts over her shoulder as Auburn leads her away: "those were some good brownies you made, Camelia! Thanks!"

Amber and Auburn disappear into the swinging double doors on that side of the building. Camelia turns, sits on the curb under the light of a streetlamp, covers her face, and starts to gently weep.

>[x] Go talk to her.

[ ] Best not to get involved.

Camelia is a tall woman, but she somehow looks so tiny sitting under the streetlight in her simple floral sundress, weeping along with the incessant chirping of crickets. She only notices you when you sit beside her.

"Hi," you say. "Do you remember me? I'm Wesley -- Amber's sister? We met at parent-teacher night last year."

Camelia sniffles back her tears and nods. "I remember you. You were wearing that shirt with all the sneezing cartoon girls on it."

You purse your lips.

"Auburn's mad at me," Camelia says. "Amber, too. I feel like such an idiot."

"What makes you think Amber is related to you?" You ask.

"You heard?" Camelia rests an elbow on her knee and rubs her forehead with the heel of her palm like she's trying to bid away bad memories. "You'll just think I'm crazy, too. Why don't you just head back inside."

"Are you an Instrumentalist?" You ask.

Camelia exhales, surprised. "Sure. Here to convince me of the error of my ways?"

"Actually, I want to know more. I've heard about it from people on the outside. I want to know about it from someone who's part of it."

She stares at the starless sky. "At its core," Camelia tells you, "Instrumentalism is about the memory of the world. The cycle of birth, death, and reincarnation leaves traces in the background of the universe itself... by meditating, you can subsume yourself into the oneness of all things, and connect with the You that used to be..." She sounds wistful. Eyes refocusing, she looks from the heavens back at you. "I love Auburn, but I've always felt like my family was incomplete, like I should have had another child, too. I had this hollowness inside me, for years... I thought I must be losing my mind, missing a person who didn't even exist. But then I found Instrumentalism, and they helped me realize that I'm not crazy. I'm just sensitive to the world's grand cadences. And when I first met Amber, I knew... I knew she was my daughter as strongly as you know that your reflection belongs to you. Amber is a part of me. She's my child from a past life. You can laugh. Everyone laughs. I know it's true."

"How do you know? Other than just a feeling, how do you know?"

"Why do you need more than just a feeling?" Camelia asks.

You shrug.

"Adepts from across human history have been sensitive to the background signals of the cosmos. People from wildly different times and cultures have independently discovered the same, underlying mechanisms--" she stops, shaking her head. "If you're truly interested, come to a meeting. Otherwise... I wouldn't be able to explain. I'm no bhikkhunī. Just a girl who did her reading."

"Uh. Sorry. I'm strictly Christian."

"I understand."

You rise. Camelia tilts her head up. Her eyes follow you. "Wesley. I don't blame Alabaster or Rose. Amber is their daughter, too. And I don't blame Amber for thinking this is all so strange. I just... wish she would get to know me."

"I'll see if I can put in a good word for you," you say noncommittally.

N-Mom is sitting on the hood of her VW Avalon, watching you from across the parking lot. Although she can't hear your conversation, she seems... displeased, to say the least. Rather than go back inside, you go talk to her.

"Do you remember the whole stranger danger thing?" N-Mom says. "Strangers are especially danger at the moment. Uh. Dangerous."

"I think I'm about ready to go home," you tell her. "I... ate some bad cheese."

She goes for the door to the car.

[ ] Bring Amber back home with Summer and Will.

>[x] Just bring Summer and Will back home.

[ ] Give Summer and Will a quickie goodbye and just go back home with your mommy.

"Do you know what Ophie's doing?" Amber says when you return to the dance, cupping a hand to her mouth, half-whispering, and pointing up at the catwalk above.

You shrug. "Noah, I guess."

She blinks. "How the hell... you're not supposed to scoop me! I scoop *you*! What the fuck!"

"I'm going home. You want a ride?"

Amber sighs. "I have to stay until they start kicking people out. Solemn StuCo duty."

"I'm taking Summer and Will home with me," you say, trying to sweeten the pot.

"Coooool," Amber croons. "I really wish I could tag along. But I'll see if I can taste your pussy on either of them tomorrow."

"Whether," you say.

"Huh?"

"You'll see whether you can taste my pussy on either of them tomorrow..."

Amber slaps you upside the head.

---

On the car ride home, Will sits up front, and you sit in the back with Summer. Will makes small talk with N-Mom:

"How many people do you arrest? Like in a week."

"I don't do arrests. That's not part of my job anymore."

"But, like, you still could. Right?"

"Well, sure. I'm an FBI agent. I have the authority to detain people if there's probable cause."

"So you could arrest me? Like right now even?"

"Did you a commit a crime?"

"No. I mean. No. I don't think I did... did I?" Will grows worried. "I didn't commit a crime, did I?"

"Did you?" N-Mom asks.

"Oh shit. Do I need a lawyer?"

It goes on like this.

While those two are distracted, Summer rubs your thigh. "Are you gonna fuck him?" She whispers.

"Do you want to?" You ask.

She shrugs. "Dicks are fun to play with. But I'm not really into guys."

"I can give him a chaste kiss goodnight and take you back to my room, then. That's fine by me."

"No way. Don't let me rain on your slut parade," she says. "I might not be super into guys, but..." her rubbing of your thigh grows more insistent. "...That doesn't mean I won't like seeing *you* get fucked."

You cast a furtive glance up front. N-Mom is busy explaining to Will that you should never ask a cop "do I need a lawyer?" but rather just say clearly and affirmatively "I want a lawyer." He's struggling to grasp the concept.

"Play with my cunt," you whisper.

Summer is happy to play with your cunt anytime, anywhere. Your slutty outfit makes it easy. She slides her hand through the gap in your dress and you shiver as her fingers make their transit across your inner thigh. Summer's soft hands are so skilled after all your careful instruction -- she's so good at fingering you. You hold her by the back of her head and tug her face towards yours. N-Mom can see the two of you making out back here, but she has no idea that Summer's busily getting you off, too. Regardless, you see her watching intently in the rearview as you and Summer swap spit. You deliberately make your kissing loud and lewd. Summer draws your hand across the black, velvety fabric of her evening dress and gets you to finger her as well. There's something so nasty and fun about masturbating each other in the back seat of a car while your own mother watches on...

Of course, this is all only a warm-up. The real fun starts at home.

---

N-Mom is fit to be tied by the time you get through the front door. Having watched the two of you lez out the entire way home, she's been turned into a nervous, horny wreck of a woman. Her desperate thirst for Summer is starting to amuse you, the longer it goes on -- she gets this turned on, just seeing Summer kiss you. She's blushing and sweating as she pulls her shoes off in the foyer and hangs her purse off the rack. She almost trips stepping forward, and bumps into the table by the door. "Oo-oops," she stutters.

You, Summer, and Will all take off your shoes as well, and step deeper into the house.

"You three have fun -- out here in the living room... make yourselves at home, have some snacks -- watch TV if you want... Will, just go ahead and let me know when you'd like me to take you back to your place."

"What about me?" Summer asks, cocking her head.

"You can stay the night," N-Mom says.

Summer giggles stupidly.

"Uh... i-if you want," N-Mom adds.

"My mom would totally freak," Summer says. "She's all worried ever since I got kidnapped. But don't worry about taking me back. I'll catch a Luber."

N-Mom makes a little "nnn" of assent.

You plop down on the sectional, tired after a long day.

"You got kidnapped?" Will says.

"Long story," Summer says. And shockingly, Will is perfectly fine with that answer.

"Do you mind if I raid your kitchen, Mrs. Keki?" He asks.

"Go ahead," N-Mom tells him.

He's gone in a flash.

N-Mom pulls off her blazer and throws it over the back of a chair in the dining room on her way to the patio door. Trying and failing to be casual, she announces: "I'm going to go and relax in the hot tub out back. Summer... you're welcome to join me."

"What about me?" You ask, smiling wryly. "Can I hang out, too?"

N-Mom struggles with how to answer that in an unsuspicious way.

"It's fine," you tell her after letting her hang for a few moments. "I won't butt in. You'll just have to wait for my sloppy seconds..."

Being on a hair trigger, so close to orgasm -- sitting here in your living room with a wet pussy barely concealed by your cheongsam, and just waiting for the chance to get off -- has made you really bold. N-Mom stammers. "You -- but -- Will is still here, too."

"Yeah," you say.

She stares.

"Go swim," you tell her. "We'll make ourselves at home. Just like you said."

Summer takes a seat beside you, and kisses you on the side of the face. She gives N-Mom a cheeky grin. "Yeah, Noelley. I'll be out in just a couple minutes. Get the tub warm for me. I'll be warm for you too~"

N-Mom leaves through the sliding-glass door. She doesn't put a bathing suit on first. You know why: she's going to be skinny dipping.

"It's pretty hot that you're sharing me with your Mom," Summer says, getting in your lap. She sits with her knees on either side of you and flips her hair back. You love how this position makes her tower over you. Her body shadows your face.

When Summer leans in to suck your neck, you glimpse Will standing over her shoulder. He's back from the kitchen with a bag of veggie straws in hand. He munches loudly. "Oh, are you two gonna have sex?" He says. "I'll peace out, then."

"You can watch," Summer says, squeezing your shoulders and starting to grind on top of you as she plants wet kisses on your neck and face. You kiss her back.

"Do you mind, Wes?" He asks.

You shake your head.

Summer grins at you. Uncaring of the fact that Will is behind her, she tugs her dress up, and takes it off, sliding it over her bronzed body. Her dress was more constrictive than you thought, and as she frees herself, her thighs and her tummy and her beautiful tits all expand a bit, flopping, glistening with her sweat. If that feels half as relieving for her as it looks, you can understand the sexual little mewl she lets out. She tosses the wadded-up garment to the ground.

She had no bra. And now she presses one of her bare breasts to your face, makes you suck the nipple. It's damp with her sweat. She laughs, mischievous, her tongue poking slightly out -- always loves to gently bully you. "Think Noelley is out back diddling her skittle right now?" She says.

"Probably," you say.

"You might have caught just the tail end of it the other night, but your Mom is a real wild bitch. Noelley likes all the same stuff you do. She spread my ass and rimmed me. Begged me to step on her. Even wanted to sniff my armpits..."

"Did you let her?" You ask.

"Why not? Your Mommy's a pervert freak, just like you. And aren't I just too nice to pervert freaks like you?"

You hear the gentle rustle of the snack bag being set aside, and feel a shift in the air pressure; although you can't see it over Summer's body, you know Will is quietly sitting down to watch the two of you go at it.

You freely grope Summer's tits with both hands. But they're so fleshy and sticky, soft, pendulous, and heavy, that they can hardly be thought of as tits anymore -- more like udders. Summer's got udders, and she gets off on pressing them against your scrawny body. As heavy as she is, her all-over softness makes her comfy. She's like a weighted blanket. Her normal stink of lotion and sweat is somewhat overpowered by a tropical perfume that reeks of pineapple and coconut. And yet there are parts of her that smell so strongly of her natural scent that it could never be masked with any perfume, lotion, or soap, in any combination or quantity. These parts, the smelly parts, are your favorite parts of Summer: the crease of skin between her armpit and the side of her breast. The damp crevice between her tits. The sultry space between her thighs. Of course also the swampy confines of Summer's armpits themselves, and her drippy cunt, and the heaven between her ass cheeks, and her stuffy, sweaty feet -- the spots where she stinks the worst of all, are your favorite spots to bury your face. You are your mother's child, after all.

"Do you want to fuck her?" Summer asks Will.

She climbs off your lap and leans up against the corner cushion of the sectional. Will is sitting in the recliner facing you, looking hot under the collar -- and his trousers are bulging.

"Would you... want to?" He asks you.

You don't respond with words. Just get onto your tummy and spread your legs open. At least one person didn't clock that you were going nopan tonight: Will lets out an audible gasp when he sees your bare cunt through your dress. "Whoa -- you don't have panties on..."

Will could be an Olympic undresser. He gets his clothes off in seconds flat. You find it especially thrilling to be fucking like this right in the open -- where either of your parents could stumble in on it, and at least one already knows. To have Will and Summer both totally naked out here, using your body in your own home, under the bright overhead lights of your living room.

Amber didn't lie. Will has a nice cock. Surprisingly thick for a boy of his lanky build, and curved. When you think of how the curve makes it perfect for battering your G-spot, you involuntarily squeeze your legs together and feel a dribble from your throbbing cunt. Summer pulls off her panties and sits with her hands on her knees. She scooches forward far enough for you to eat her. She adopts a semi-reclining posture, her elbows propped against the back of the sectional, just perfect to watch you lick her pussy and Will stick his cock in you.

Will fishes a condom out of his wallet and puts it on without saying anything about it. He does this so naturally and unquestioningly, and so fast, that you don't try to talk him out of it. But it leaves you inwardly a little disappointed. Why does he have to be so goddamn responsible?

You focus on eating Summer out. She smiles and strokes your hair like you're an obedient pet. "I'm gonna cum in your mouth pretty quick if you keep doing that," she sighs. The slick noises of your tongue across her taint, her cuntal opening and her labia echo off her sweating thighs and fill your ears. Then you feel it: Will's strong hand against your bare ass, spreading you -- then his meaty cock pushing its way into your twat. His boyish groan of pleasure at that moment of entry is honestly really cute. A dick with condom on it feels strange -- smooth, slick, rubbery. But you can also still feel his vital heat through the thin sheath of latex and know, even if it's wrapped up, you're getting fucked by a real, human dick. It's good. Having dick in you always makes you want to cum right away.

Will gets himself balls deep inside you and props himself on his hands.

"Don't be afraid to go rough on her," Summer instructs him. "She can take a dick just as good as she eats pussy."

"She's really tight..." Will says, somewhat strained -- struggling, you think, not to cum too soon. You plant deep wet tongue kisses on Summer's vagina.

"Feel good?" Summer asks him.

"Uh huh," he moans.

"I bet she does," she says through gritted teeth. Summer puts her fingers through your hair and starts to hump. Gently, but steadily, she fucks your face. You realize she's working in tune with Will. When Will thrusts forward, Summer swings her hips back. When Will pulls out, Summer jams her crotch against your face. This syncopated piston motion makes you feel like a meat doll stuck between two rapists. Will's cock is thicker than most toys you're used to, and the constant pressure against your walls, of his shaft and glans forcing them apart, is enough to make your legs quake.

It just isn't going to get you off, though. Your brain really has been fried: if you're gonna take dick, you have to take it raw.

Summer understands your dirty mind implicitly. She clasps your face between her hands and, looking you in the eye, she says, "something the matter, babe?"

"Huh?" Will says, stopping inside you -- considerate enough to pause if he thinks something is wrong, but too horny to pull out. It's not a coincidence, you think, that he stopped when he was balls-deep. His itchy, impatient dick twitches and flexes in you.

"Never hurts to ask," Summer tells you. Sage advice. She nods slowly, encouraging you to do what you want to.

"You... don't have to wear a condom." Your voice is low, almost to the point of whispering. You don't look over your shoulder at him.

"Me?" Will asks.

Summer giggles. "Anyone."

"You mean... you want me to take it off?" Will says.

You nod.

He thrusts in and out of you a couple times, almost as if by reflex. Your breathing grows heavier. You've got him totally overwhelmed by horniness, and now you're offering a raw pussy-fuck to him, something he's surely never had before. "But... I want to be able to cum with my dick in you," Will says. "I don't want to have to pull out."

You wonder whether he's actually resisting or just bargaining to see how far you'll go. Either way, you tell him: "you can still cum inside."

Will pulls all the way out of you. You twist your head to watch from over your back. His cock bobs in the air, springy, the exterior of the condom wet with your juice. He sits back on his knees. Considers the offer. His better angels are losing out to the baser part of his teenage male brain, that's doubtlessly screaming at him to lunge for this chance to breed. "Is it safe?" He finally asks.

"No," you say, because it isn't, and that's what makes it fun.

He pinches his fingers around the reservoir tip of the condom and keeps them pinched there for a few seconds, wavering, and clearly wracked by the conflicting thoughts in his head. But when you wag your hips back and forth to grab his attention, as if to say "hurry up already, my cunt is waiting" -- the decision is made. He tugs the condom off and plunges back into you, this time raw.

Your heart almost overflows with warmth and exhilaration when you feel his naked, spongy cockhead pushing past your vulva. The engorged, searingly hot shaft of dickmeat pressing, skin-to-skin, against your interior. The gooey sensation of his precum staining you. This is how fucking was meant to be. You bow your head and suck on Summer's pussy lips with renewed vigor. She makes a series of cute, almost pained "ahhhhn~" noises, and writhes around. You keep her somewhat still and spread-open by pressing on her impossibly squishy thighs. You need her cunt in your mouth right now as desperately as you need this dick up your cunt.

Will has an athlete's stamina and speed. The permission to fuck you raw and cum inside has also given him a newfound vigor. His hips smash against your ass on every instroke, and it stings as bad as being spanked. It sounds like an over-excited audience member clapping. He grunts and sighs to himself, lost to his own bliss, and since you gave him unfettered permission, you figure he probably won't even warn you before he cums. That's how you want it.

As Summer begins to cream you, your mind fills with lewd, half formed thoughts. That your cunt is a toilet. That you're a free set of holes for cocks to make a creamy mess in. That you're a filthy dyke slut who'll spread any girl's ass wide and suck on command until she cums in your hair. That you're a cum gutter, a semen tank, a jizz rag. That your mouth is a urinal, that your face is a sex toy, that your lips are made for munching carpet and that your uterus is made for spunking in. You think of cum dripping down your underfed legs, and off your sleep-deprived face -- male cum, female cum, it doesn't matter. You're made for cumming on. You're a walking set of meat holes, here to help anyone who wants a ride to dump their load.

And then even these thoughts dissolve, replaced by a pure, searing whiteness in your mind -- the total absence of conscious thought. You truly become the meat hole you envisioned, as Summer rubs herself on your face and Will works to get himself off inside your gash. Summer's ass lifts from the couch cushion; she balances like a tripod on her haunches and a single balled-up fist, her other hand viciously gripping your hair. She spreads so wide that her knees point in opposite directions. Will bears down until he's lying almost completely over you, and drills your cunt into oblivion. Neither of them care about anything other than cumming. Their pleasure, their orgasm, is all that matters. You, the thing between them, are just a convenient instrument to use.

They cum. Summer is first. She leaks her fragrant cum all over your face and hair, just how you like. You gulp and swallow, trying to contend with the sheer volume of it, but it's never enough. She nearly drowns you with her pulsing waterfall of cunt-cream. Only a second or two later, Will lets out a deep, masculine sigh of sheer relief, gets himself fully inside you, and spunks you. His orgasm is powerful and hot, and he wiggles his hips side to side to milk it all out, to smear it around your womb. These motions of his come by instinct, of course, but you know what the instinct is for: his body is making sure he inseminates you as deeply and as completely as he can. His exploding cock expands and throbs so nicely as it paints your insides. Being creamed from both ends like this makes you hit your climax, too. And as the orgasm tears through you, something you never expected: Will puts a hand on your head to join Summer's, and presses your face even harder to Summer's cumming pussy. His forearm flexes and he demonstrates real, cruel strength -- debasing you, and helping Summer get off as hard as possible.

When Summer and Will are both done cumming, and you can finally come up for air, you feel like a used-up tissue. You feel drunk, too -- dazed, confused. You struggle to rise to your butt and sit with your back against the backrest. You're dirty all over and you stink of sex.

"That was fucking great!" Will says as he stands again, panting. "Thanks Wes!"

Your glazed eyes notice a glob of cum still pearled on Will's cockhead, connected to a dribble that runs down the underside of his shaft. Weakly, you tug him towards your lips, and kiss his messy cock clean. You're a full-service toilet, after all.

Will laughs and pets your matted hair. "You guys wanna shower?"

"I have a date with Wes's Mom," Summer says. "So it would be a waste of water."

Will pulls his wilting cock away from your lips.

"I need to catch my breath for a few minutes," you tell him. "Besides... I like having your cum in me."

"*Nice*," he says, with genuine enthusiasm. Then: "Well, do you mind if I go shower?"

"Down the hall... second door on the left," you say between gulping breaths.

"Thanks, homie."

He goes.

"I'm gonna go ride your mom's face," Summer says. "'Kay?"

"I thought you wanted N-Mom."

"Huh?"

"...Nevermind. Go have fun."

Summer hurries out the patio door.

You sit there on the sectional for a long time, arms limp at your side, staring off at nothing, just enjoying the warm feeling of Will's semen oozing from your slit and Summer's pussy cream dripping off your nose. You feel so nasty and used, and you want to keep that feeling going for a while. And so, even as you hear the front door unlocking, and footsteps entering, you don't move a muscle.

K-Mom is home, and she sees you sitting there in the living room. It takes a few moments for her to notice anything is amiss. As she pulls her shoes off in the entryway and hangs her coat, she says: "oh, Wes. How was homecoming? Did you have fun on your date--"

Rounding the corner, she sees and smells the mess you've made of yourself. She stands there in mute, frozen shock before you.

"I had a lot of fun on my date," you tell her leeringly.

K-Mom tries to say something, but no words escape her lips. So you add to the perversion by flipping the front of your dress up, to show K-Mom the cummy mess of your cunt. The spunk glistens in the light, rolling in thick globs off your labia, down your crack, and pooling around your ass, trapped against your skin by the rear hem of your cheongsam.

"See?" You say.

K-Mom's legs give out and she collapses sitting on the recliner. You slowly begin to masturbate, playing your fingers through your sperm-coated pussy. You scoop some jizz out and spread your fingers to show her how it spiderwebs between them, and then you lick your fingers clean. She presses her thighs together, rubs them sensually over each other as she watches. You show your mother, in graphic and unashamed detail, how you play with yourself -- pausing occasionally to scoop more of Will's copious jizz from your used-up twat and slurping it down. Legs spread, cunt open, you masturbate for K-Mom's enjoyment.

K-Mom's hypnotic trance breaks all of a sudden. She looks all around. "Where's Noelle? Is that her in the shower?"

"No, that would be Will... the guy who's cum I'm dripping." K-Mom draws a shuddering breath. "N-Mom is out back, with Summer... skinny dipping in the hot tub."

K-Mom prances over to the patio door and looks out. Whatever she sees makes her say, "oh my god." She looks back at you: you're masturbating again.

So, half stumbling, she rushes back over to the living room, pulling her jeans down on the way there. She ditches her panties, too. From her purse, she pulls a vibrating egg. Your eyes follow as she settles back in the recliner, legs spread wide, with only her toes digging into the thick carpet.

"Let's be quick," she whispers. She's smiling. This is your naughty secret: mother and daughter jilling off for each other, racing not to be caught.

Your fingers dig into your newly hot and horny cunt. K-Mom clicks the toy on and presses the shiny pink plastic to her clit. It buzzes nicely, and she gets an even more blissed-out smile on her face. Her olive thighs and dark cunt are so pretty -- lush and plump looking. The fact that she's doing this for your enjoyment, showing herself off to you, makes it even better.

It's wordless, furtive, and fast. You and your mother keep your eyes peeled firmly on one another's cunts as you play with yourselves. You reflect on how perverted this is, how immoral it is for a mother and her girl to be masturbating with each other. You're both badly compromised, this way, too: if N-Mom came back inside or Will ended his shower, you'd be caught. K-Mom's pants are on the floor more than ten feet away, so there would be no way for her to deny what's going on. She fingers her pussy and gyrates against the buzzing egg.

As you feel yourself getting close, the noise of the running shower suddenly cuts out. Will is done in there -- and he could be stepping out at any second. "Fuck," K-Mom heaves -- too close to cumming to stop, but knowing she really should.

"Mommy..." you whisper.

"Baby," she whispers back. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum for you..."

"Me too," you tell her.

K-Mom bites her lower lip, and pulls her hands away. She spreads her legs even wider. Totally hands-free, without any further stimulation, she cums in a wide, squirting arc. She sits with her tailbone on the edge of the seat, so you can see everything, everything. You watch the lurid sight, sucking cum off your fingers. You mirror the way she sits forward in her seat, to show yourself off to her as well. And like that, throbbing genitals on display, winking asshole spread open and slick with spunk, you rub out a nice, warm, squirting orgasm of your own for your mother to watch. K-Mom's pussy cums so hard it visibly shudders.

Coming back to her senses just in time, K-Mom dives forward, scoops up her discarded pants, and races up the stairs. Seconds later, Will comes out, dressed again.

"What was that?" He asks, listening to K-Mom's thudding retreat.

"K-Mom. She's always in such a hurry, you know?"

Will doesn't understand, but he nods anyway. "So are you gonna get cleaned up, then?"

"Yeah."

You rise and turn for your room. You pause, though, to watch through the patio door. Will stands at your side.

"Your Mom really is a freak..."

"Yep."

Out in the the hot tub, your mother, stark naked, has Summer -- also stark naked -- pinned in place. She keeps one of Summer's arms held in place high above her head. She has her face buried in Summer's armpit, making out with it -- and is rubbing herself on one of the hot tub's bubble-jets at the same time.

BOYS FUCKED: 1/?

---

"I'm comin' out! I want the world to know! Got to let it show!"

The sick bassline of Diana Ross's backing band makes the whole backstage area rumble. The amps are cranked so loud that the music is distorted and warbly.

Aunt Cerise angrily sips a cup of coffee. She shakes her head. "Who the fuck chose this playlist. Steven, did you choose this playlist?"

"I don't want to hear you bitching," he growls. "I got you the highest profile endorsement I possibly could have gotten. So shut the fuck up and bask in the glory."

You sit in a folding chair with Riley in your lap. He always gets so nervous at campaign events, and he begged you to come keep him company. Although you hate nothing more than big public events, except perhaps for politics, you can never say no to Riley when he puts on the puppy dog eyes.

He plays Pokemon Snap. Watching from over his shoulder, chin resting on top of his head, you backseat drive, helping him.

"The music was my idea," Aunt Vivian says Despite being under the shade of the tenting backstage, she holds a parasol as she sits beside you. The parasol's lacy frills hang just low enough to occasionally tickle your nose, annoying you.

"Remind me to spank you later," Cerise says.

"Please do."

As the music fades, you can see on the monitors backstage what's happening on the other side of the blue curtains. A stooped, fragile old man walks out with the ample assistance of his Secret Service agents. It takes about three minutes for him to go the 50 or so feet he needs to to reach the podium. He can barely stand as his withered grey hands grip the podium's edges. "Hello," he croaks into the mic. The crowd cheers. He smiles. And as decrepit as he is, it's a winning smile.

He has one admirer up front who's particularly boisterous. Samantha Smatters holds a huge, hand-made sign in the air, jumping up and down, gazongas gazonging. The sign reads: "<3 U PRESIDENT CARTER"

When the crowd's cheering dies down (everyone except Sam, who keeps shouting incoherently like a hysteric fan at a concert), Jimmy Carter says: "I... love... Cerise. I really... really do."

"Does this qualify as elder abuse?" You ask.

Armstrong waves a hand dismissively. "Elder abuse is a matter of definition. Anyway, that's a perfectly acceptable political tactic. Has been for years."

"Hope he doesn't keel over on stage," you say.

Carter is struggling to find his words. "America is... there are... dangers... foreign... terrorism... currency. Economy. America. And Cerise -- I think. Is very, very strong."

Backstage, Cerise looks skeptically at Armstrong. "You sure about this?"

"Sure?" Armstrong sputters. "Sure I'm fucking sure. An endorsement from the only living former president is huge! You're as good as elected. Thank me later, why don't you."

"you should have pushed Kay harder to write that soft-interest profile..." Aunt Anna mutters, staring up at the monitors.

"Uh huh," N-Mom says. "See where that would have gotten you..."

Carter takes about 20 minutes to ramble his way through 10 sentences, and then his bodyguards/hospice caretakers guide him away. The crowd cheers.

Armstrong rubs his hands together. "All right, baby. Let's show the world what a future Senator --" He points: "soon to be President! -- looks like!"

He steps out, clapping for Jimmy Carter along with the rest of the crowd, smiling broadly in his direction as Carter finally leaves the stage. Armstrong turns towards the mics and leans in close, saying, "what a man. What an American! Hasn't been a better President since, in my opinion." (The crowd is maybe a little skeptical of that, except Sam, who is the lone voice shouting: "whoooooo!") "Anyway, you folks are here to talk about the future, right? So how about -- YOUR FUTURE US SENATOR! CERISE SOLILOQUY!"

He steps back, clapping even more vigorously, as Cerise emerges arm-in-arm with Anna. Armstrong stands at their side while Cerise peels herself off her wife and adjusts the podium's mic. If the crowd was excited for Jimmy Carter, they're orgiastic over Cerise, and she has to wait almost two full minutes before she can get even a word out.

Riley gets anxious at campaign stops, but he always likes to see his mommy speak. He turns his head up towards the monitors and watches, open mouth smiling.

"California," Cerise says. Her voice echoes weirdly across the field. "I heard your call. So I'm answering. This November--" This draws renewed cheering. She quiets them down, motioning for them to calm themselves. "...This November, you have a real choice. You can choose the busted status quo, or you can cast a vote for change. I hope--"

"Cerise--!" Armstrong grunts.

It happens so quickly. The pop of gunfire rings out, distant-sounding from where you sit, but sickeningly distinct. And then you see a fine red mist of blood exploding from Cerise's back. There's a rapid series of shots, but she takes only one bullet before Armstrong can tackle her to the floor. He latches onto her, falls with her, and bodily shields her as the crowd starts screaming in horror. Cerise's private security swarm the stage, giving more cover, and pulling Anna down as well.

Beside you, the normally taciturn Vivian gasps and drops her parasol; N-Mom pulls her service pistol and stands directly in front of you with it at the ready, hyper-vigilant for any immediate threats.

Riley wails. You cover his eyes, but way too late. He saw it all.

In the chaotic crush of the confused and shrieking crowd, you glimpse the gunman right before he gets tackled and subdued. He's wearing a mask covered in eyes of lapis.

---

MEANWHILE...

Tyrus whistles sharply through his teeth. Holds up three fingers. He has to shout to be heard over the thumping music. "Vodka tonics. One with an extra lime but light on the tonic. Please and thank you." He leans back against the bench with one arm resting over the booth back.

"Aw Daddy, you know how I like it," Marquis says, grips his lapels, and pecks him on the cheek.

"You're fine with vodka tonic too, right?" Tyrus says, smirking across the table. "Wouldn't want to go assuming."

"Would it surprise you to hear that I've gone sober?" Stasi asks.

"I dunno. Would it surprise you to hear the Pope is Muslim now?"

"Actually no," Stasi says. "But I am still drinking. Though I don't suppose you invited me out just for a chance to drink a shitty vodka tonic at a third-rate nightclub -- did you."

Tyrus sweeps his trouser's legs smooth. "No, I most certainly did not. Seeing how far the Sapphire Club fell since I sold it is causing me some real vicious pain here."

"Then tell me your purpose. And do not think of lying."

"The real reason I got ahold of you is because I have a job for you."

"I still drink, but I don't still take jobs. You will need someone else for the dirty work."

"This pays," Tyrus says. "This Darkbloom bucks we talking here. Name a price, it's yours."

"What do I need of money anymore?" Stasi asks. "I have my millions. I'm an old woman. Now is my time to sit back and enjoy it."

Marquis, an arm still around Tyrus, leans forward. "You hear about these cultist motherfuckers running around town causing trouble?"

"Instrumentalists? So some degenerate billionaires want to kneel and worship some false idols. Who cares?"

"You should care," Tyrus says. "This situation pertains to Vivian, too. They're having their next big meeting at her dad's company."

Stasi pauses, considering this, as the waitress drops off the drinks. But she balks again. "Vivian is a grown woman. She can manage her own affairs."

"Lily's pertained to it, too," Marquis says. "How's that?"

Stasi peers at him.

Tyrus sighs -- he didn't want to say it, but now it's out.

"This is true?" Stasi asks him.

"This is true," Tyrus says. "Yeah. Lily followed me into one of their little meeting halls and got held at gunpoint by one of their men."

Stasi pounds back the vodka tonic in a couple deep gulps. She slams the empty highball glass on the table. "You expect me to hold on to some kind of idiotic motherly attachment just because I incubated her for nine months? Is this what you think?"

Tyrus shrugs. "That's on you, whether or not you do. But if you do, then maybe you get to feeling like you have a stake in matters too. Just throwing it out there."

"Where do we go and who are we shooting?" Stasi asks.

END OF EPISODE 5.