Interlewd 6

You are Alabaster Soliloquy, hot-shit destroyer of anime pussy and hot-shit destroyer of onee-sama pussy.

Complete set of episodes from /a/: http://pastebin.com/Hmj8gfWU
Episodes 9-10: http://pastebin.com/ppjtCn5Q
Interlewd 6 part 1: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/33221648/

PREVIOUSLY:
-You returned from Palau with Mom, Whitney, and Ms. Carte. Rose, Cerise, and Vivian stowed away despite your instructions to the contrary.
-You housejacked Whitney's dad.
-You had a threesome with your mother and sister, because the depravity of committing incest with them one at a time wasn't enough.
-You went back to school, and your old buddy Stackleford goaded you into visiting anime club. It turns out Cerise decided to visit, too.
-Anime club is a shambles. Poor Fazil may be traumatized for life.

AND NOW, THE CONCLUSION OF INTERLEWD 6:
THE 20 DAY WAR OF ME AND MY SISTER.

---

Perhaps Cerise expected things to be bad. That would explain why she wore a whistle to the clubroom today. She fishes it from between her breasts and blows into it. Activity in the clubroom halts. All eyes turn to her.

"Cerise...?" Kimberly says. Then, her expression turning from confusion to excitement: "Cerise-chon! Oh my gosh! Cerise-chon!"

Kimberly runs toward Cerise with arms wide open. Cerise sidesteps the attempted intimacy. Kimberly tips forward, trying to hug the air, and almost loses her balance.

Despite this, Kimberly doesn't get the message. She spins around and makes another pass at Cerise. Cerise grabs the fire extinguisher from Mr. McMichael's cuffed hands. As Kimberly draws close again, Cerise whangs her upside the head. The dull thunk of metal against skull caroms off the clubroom walls.

Kimberly flies backward, landing in a heap on the ground. Connor jumps to his feet, pushing desks and chairs aside as he rushes over to her. He kneels and shakes her shoulders, trying rouse her.

Kimberly enjoys the attention. She pretends to be delirious with pain, shaking her head side to side and groaning.

"Come on, my darling," Connor says.

You can't help muttering under your breath: "come on, my ragtime gal."

The commotion brings Fazil out of his despair-induced torpor. He stands, blinking. "Can this be real?" he asks, and actually rubs his eyes with his balled-up fists. "Am I dreaming?"

Cerise aims the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at the flaming remains of Kimberly's dessert, and smothers it with foam. "What the hell have you people done to my club?" she says. "You fucking animals. There isn't a circle of shame large enough for you losers to feel the shame you need to be feeling right now."

When Fazil hugs you, you do nothing to stop him.

"It's been awful!" he says, shaking you side to side in his embrace. "For the past month, I think so often to quit. But then I think, what would Ala-bast-or and Cerise say if I give up? So I don't give up. But I come very close."

You've never been good with male-male affection, so you respond to Fazil by patting him lightly on the head. It feels a bit condescending, but he doesn't object. When he releases you, he gives you a thumbs-up.

"My star pupil," Mr. McMichael says, smiling broadly. "I'm glad to see you're back, Cerise. I heard you were running things in my absence." He holds out a clammy palm as much as the cuffs will allow. Cerise shakes it.

"No touching!" His prison-appointed guardian booms from behind him.

Mr. McMichael steps back, holding up both hands to show he's following orders. "No touching," he repeats. "No touching."

---

Cerise sends everyone home for the day, amidst grumbles and mumbles.

The two of you need a little time alone together to knock heads and devise a plan to save the club. As you sweep up the ashy leftovers of Kimberly's failed experiment, Cerise sits at the head of the room and recounts the horrors:

"Did you know they're not even learning Turkish anymore?" she says, folding her arms. "Because Rose fucked off, the rest of the student council let them drop the Turkish Cultural Appreciation act."

"That's not so awful," you say. "Did you really care about learning Turkish?"

Cerise glares at you. You blanch. You dump the dustpan into the garbage, saying nothing more.

"It's completely fucked," Cerise says. "The last time the club voted on what to watch, Fazil and Kimberly put their suggestions to a vote. Fazil suggested Yosuga no Sora and Kimberly suggested Death Note. Poor Fazil lost 7-1."

"So some course correction is needed," you say. "Okay. I suggest a regimen of one classic and one currently airing series. It's not a shit taste panacea, but it's a start."

"Who would have known you were capable of good ideas," Cerise says. She powers up the PC on the desk and finds a chart for new season. She rubs her chin, thinking.

"All right. For the currently airing series, which do you prefer -- Psycho Pass or the new Free?"

"You have got to be shitting me." You elbow her out of the way and scroll through the chart yourself.

"Hey--!! What the hell, Alabaster?"

"See?" you say, glancing back at her. "There's all sorts of great things on, and you want to watch crap like that? Look -- this Rokujyouma show would be perfect for the club. Good, wholesome fun--"

Cerise leans in and reads the description. "Goddamn it, Alabaster," she says. "This is haremshit. I am not watching this."

"Fuck you, you're not watching it. You're LIVING it."

---

(this is a scene from later in the episode. there would be some material in between the previous excerpt and this.)

Whitney meets with you on Friday evening at a chain restaurant, accompanied by Ms. Carte. You arrange the meeting through Cerise.

The girls are sitting tucked away in a corner booth when you arrive. You slide in, sitting across from them.

The more robotic of the two Spancers sits at a booth kitty-corner from yours, surveiling for threats.

Whitney is the one who insisted on this restaurant -- ostensibly for its crowded atmosphere and dim mood lighting, which makes it perfect for clandestine rendezvous -- but it quickly becomes clear that she's only in it for the deal on endless appetizers. She orders plate after revolting plate of doughy, deep-fried mozzarella sticks and packs them away like a prisoner on death row eating her last meal.

"Are they not feeding you?" you say. "If you're being abused, please tell me."

"Mfff mmmmf wfff," Whitney says. Crumbs tumble from the corners of her mouth.

"Miss Manners eats just fine back at home," Ms. Carte says, steepling her fingers. "More than fine. There's a doctoral thesis waiting to be written on her metabolism."

Whitney chomps a mozzarella stick in half, pulling the gooey filling into pendulous strings that dangle in front of her. Ms. Carte grimaces.

"How many of those have you eaten?" you say, frowning.

Whitney swallows hard and points at you with the uneaten half of her mozzarella stick. "They're endless, Alabaster. Value like that can't be beat. So lay off."

You shake your head and turn to Ms. Carte. "How are things going? Have you made much progress studying Vivian?"

"A little. I think the effects of X-11 dependency can be reversed. Not just on Vivian, but anyone affected."

"--But?"

"But-- I still need my old files from Darkbloom. If your mother can get them, I'm sure I'd make the breakthrough we need. She just needs to get close enough."