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(sorry for the late post, 4chan ate my first "previously" post and I had to quick retype it)

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeriseSoliloquy
Fuck Quest master index (including seasons 1-4 of the original quest): https://www.op-studios.net/fq
Fuck Quest lewd index: https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewds

Wesley's Bizarre Adventure lewds (content not allowed on /qst/ will go here): https://www.op-studios.net/fq-wba-lewds

Episode 1 ("Wesley's Bizarre Adventure"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4723649
Episode 2 ("How Heavy are the Softballs You Pitch?"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4753308

---

AND NOW, EPISODE 3 OF WESLEY'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE:
"Read or Die"

>>4797605
Let's fuckin gooooo

>>4797605
THE TIME HAS COME
AND SO HAVE I

>>4797605
>>4797608
Olivia hype!

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BASEBALL GIRLS ARE GREAT GIRLS.

LET'S GOOOOOOO!

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"You stupid fucking slut," Lily snarls.

"Eat it. Eat it!" You scream.

"Come and fucking make me, bitch," she screams back.

There's a knock on your door. You peel your headset off, but just enough to hear N-Mom. "Wes! Someone's at the door for you!"

That moment of inattention is enough for Lily to activate her super on your nexus, which despawns all your turrets and forces you to portal yourself back to the ledge. "Fuck," you mutter.

Lily giggles, so overcome with glee that she doesn't even need a snide remark. And now she's even gonna go for the two-point conversion.

"Oh shut the fuck up," you yell, "shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up, Lily!"

"Wes!" N-Mom howls. "What the hell is wrong with you? Open this door!"

You mute your mic. "Not you, Mom! ...Sorry!"

"You're too easy," Lily says through peals of laughter.

"You're using an aimbot," you say, unmuting. You know you're just searching for any excuse to salve a wounded ego.

"I don't need an aimbot to nail your sorry ass," she says. Oh great: now she's putting spikes out on the field, to compound the woes you're facing with the rain effect still active. You don't have any spell cards left to counter her.

You close the game client.

"The fuck?" Lily says. "You're really gonna quit just as soon as I start winning? Fucking pussy ass bit--"

You disconnect from the call, too. Like that's going to stop her, though. Lily immediately messages you:

>pussy. fucking pussy. get back here and let me finish beating you!
>wes! cunt bitch! come here!
>what the fuck else do you have to do right now huh? masterbate to anime? get the fuck back in queue!

You shut the monitor off.

OP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Atvsg_zogxo

>>4797605
YES ITS TIME

>>4797629
>Oh great: now she's putting spikes out on the field, to compound the woes you're facing with the rain effect still active. You don't have any spell cards left to counter her.
OP, please have mercy.

>>4797629
>You know you're just searching for any excuse to salve a wounded ego.
Lily totally swatted Wes with N-Mom!

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When you poke your head out into the hallway, N-Mom is still there, scowling at you. "I don't like the way you talk when you play that game."

"You should hear how my opponent was talking," you say.

"I did."

"Oh. That loud, huh?"

"Why can't you have a better hobby?" N-Mom asks. "Something respectable, something healthy and stimulating. Like... I don't know... kayaking."

"You wanna go kayaking?" You ask with arched eyebrows. "That sounds fun. I'm sure K-Mom'll be thrilled--"

"That isn't--"

You raise your voice: "Hey! K-Mom! N-Mom is saying how she wants to kayak in the woods with you!"

N-Mom lunges forward. She clasps a palm behind your head and and a palm across your mouth. "Will you shut the fuck up?" She hisses, eyes bulging.

You shut the fuck up, and wait for her to pull her hands away. When she does, you tell her with a smirk: "I don't like the way you're talking."

N-Mom points at you. "If she forces me to go camping, you're coming, too. Remember that."

You consider this. Really let it sink in. Glancing at the floor, you whisper: "Mosquitos..."

"Sunburn," N-Mom adds.

"No toilets," you say. "Like anywhere."

"Bears. Bears live in the woods. Grizzlies."

"Ticks. Lyme disease."

"She packs two kinds of food when she camps: spam and granola."

You meet N-Mom's eyes. "I won't mention anything about kayaking ever again," you promise, voice solemn and severe.

"Good. And, uh... just keep it down when you play your game, all right?"

You nod.

The door bell rings. Once, twice, three times in quick succession. Ding-ding-ding-dong. N-Mom, her ponytail flipping as she turns her head, raises her voice. "Be right there!"

"Who is it?" You ask.

>>4797645
Best mom.

>>4797645
I want to suffer through a miserable Noelle in the great outdoors! I really do!

>>4797645
>Spam and granola
Kay why... you can do so much better!

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It's not quite right to say that you let Summer in. You don't not let her in, is more like it. Not that you could have not. Could have not?

...Well, she was going to come inside no matter what, you figure. Saying "come in" at least makes you look like you've got some kind of control over it.

"I know you," N-Mom says. She shuts the front door behind Summer and wags her finger at her as if doing so will jog the memory. Somehow it works. "You're... Summer, right? Wes tutored you in math."

Summer salutes her. "Ayep! And we've been such good friends ever since." She wraps both her forearms around one of your upper arms, leaning against you in a way that's clearly more than only friendly. Her breasts press insistently against your shoulder.

N-Mom looks from you, to Summer, and back, her mouth hanging open in mute contemplation. "...Is that so," she finally says.

You're neon.

"Uh huh!" Summer chirps. When she turns her head and you're sure she's gonna go in for a peck on your cheek, you fight your way free of her grasp, back slowly away from her, and say: "do you like koolaid? I-I've got koolaid. Hold on. I'll get some koolaid."

Summer bats her eyelashes, more confused than anything. You hurry for the kitchen. Terrible mistake. N-Mom leads Summer towards the living room, and N-Mom's receding voice is asking her: "have you and Wes been hanging out a lot, then?"

>>4797653
Surely eating shitty camping food is part of the experience

>>4797658
...shit, I forget if Noelle is on the pro-gay side of the bet or the pro-hetero side.

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In the living room, Summer sits on the giant sectional, lounging on the corner cushion like the werido she is. N-Mom just stands around like the more awkward weirdo she is.

"Sick house," Summer says, marveling at its size. She spends a particularly long moment admiring the fake fern in the alcove near the ceiling, so recently installed.

"We're very blessed," N-Mom says.

Summer smiles at her. "Yeah. Totally. Could use a couple renos, though. Like the counters, you know?" She swats the air in front of her with a limp wrist, in an 'oh, you' sort of way. "Bluestone is so in this year -- it would look really cute. In my opinion." When N-Mom reacts by just dumbly blinking at her, Summer seems to think she's been too blunt in her appraisal. She puts a hand to her collarbone: "Oh my gosh! I'm sorry, miss Keki! For real. I didn't mean it like that. Your house is super cute already."

You hand Summer a glass of purple koolaid. She sips it appreciatively. She seems more happy for something to quell her motormouth than for something to quell her thirst.

"That's fine," N-Mom says. "I've actually been thinking of bluestone, too... isn't that funny?" She takes a seat as if she'll fall over otherwise.

"Anyway, this place is really nice. I'm so glad you're keeping my Wessy livin' in style!"

"Your..." N-Mom says.

When you take a seat too, Summer scooches right up beside you. "You should show me around, babe..." she half whispers. She reaches out, parts your bangs from your face. "Give me the grand tour... show me your room..."

You sip your own glass, loudly.

"Uh-- your mother is just out mowing the lawn," N-Mom tells you. "She'll be back inside any minute now. Maybe you two should do that tour some other time."

You aren't sure what K-Mom getting home has to do with anything, but you'd rather do a tour like this at a time when neither of your mothers are home.

>>4797671
Good lord Summer, somebody throw some cold water on this girl.

>>4797653
According to Alpha-baster taking over the kitchen last episode, maybe not.
>>4797662
She wants the dick for Wes

>>4797671
God I wish it were me

>>4797658
Wes, no! You're so screwed!

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"You're right, miss Keki," Summer says. She sits straight, hands in her lap like the prim and proper schoolgirl she isn't. "We're going to be so totally late anyway-as-it-is, so I can't waste time fu-- getting a tour from Wes."

"Late?" N-Mom says.

"Oh, you didn't tell her?" Summer asks you.

"Well-- well, no-- I, uh, didn't think... well--"

"Tell me what?" N-Mom asks, curious. "Are you two going somewhere tonight?"

"Y-yeah...?" You say, looking to Summer for confirmation. Summer nods. "Yeah," you repeat with a bit more conviction. "It's, uh... well, I don't want to bore you with the details, you know?"

"You forgot," Summer says.

"Noooo," you drawl.

Summer pounds the cushion. "You, like, totally forgot! Oh my god! No wonder you're not dressed for it!"

"You'll have to forgive her," N-Mom says. "Wes is forgetful like that. She'd forget her own head if she wasn't straight -- erm -- if it wasn't screwed on straight."

Summer explains to N-Mom, rather than to you, since she's still pissed at you. Which is strange, since she wraps her arms around you again anyway. "My mom's opening a new store tonight. Not only that, but Ophie's band is playing there. I thought for sure she'd want to see it!"

"New store..." N-Mom mumbles. Then it hits her. "Ohhh-- Summer Denali-- of course! Denali Furniture & Flooring, right? Your mom is the one who's in all those awf-- all those commercials."

Summer nods enthusiastically, blonde pigtails flapping.

N-Mom stands. "Where is it? I'd be happy to take you both. Since Wes can't drive yet... and I'd hate to make you call another Luber--"

"Huh?" Summer says, furrowing her brow. "But Wes can dr--"

You titter awkwardly, and cut her off. "Y-yeah... just a couple more months, right? Can't wait for my license!"

N-Mom puts a hand on her hip. "I'm only letting you drive when you prove you're ready for it."

Summer's mask of confusion melts into a sly grin. "Riiiight..." She gives you a faux-serious look and tone: "Only when you're ready. That's a lot of responsibility."

N-Mom glances at you. "Wes?"

[ ] Well, let's go. Lead the way, Mom.
[ ] Maybe K-Mom should take us.
[ ] We'll get there on our own.
[ ] We have time. How about that grand tour first?

>>4797683
>[x] Well, let's go. Lead the way, Mom.
Any opportunity for Wes to be completely embarrassed by this pair is an opportunity worth taking.

>>4797683
>[x] Well, let's go. Lead the way, Mom.
No time for tour, gotta get going.

>>4797683
>[ ] Well, let's go. Lead the way, Mom.
I can't pass on an opportunity for Liz and Noelle to meet after the commercial.

>>4797683
>[x] Maybe K-mom should take us.

Chaos mode, activate.

>>4797683
>[x] Maybe K-Mom should take us.
Accelerate.

>>4797683
>[x] Well, let's go. Lead the way, Mom.
I will always vote for more Noelle.

>>4797683
>[x] Maybe K-Mom should take us.
Changing vote for (hopefully) double date, let's go!

>>4797688
Changing vote to
[x] We'll get there on our own.
Since I think that makes it a tie vote

>>4797705
This man understands, two moms are better than one. Especially with mothers day coming up.

>>4797713
Already mother's day here in Australia, even.

Boutta go have a nice brunch with her

>>4797715
>Already mother's day here
Oh wait, same. Talk about a Wes moment.

>>4797671
It's a good thing Wes got the koolaid since Summer is so fucking thirsty

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"I will... be right back," you promise. "Just gonna..."

You let that thought hang in the air as you duck into the hallway, towards your bedroom, to throw on something more presentable.

From the living room, you hear Summer make her excuses: "Wes is great and all, but she has the fashion sense of a dork... y'know?"

"She is a dork," N-Mom says. "So that checks out."

"Right. So -- I'll just go and make sure she doesn't end up looking too dorky. brb."

Like that, she follows you into your bedroom uninvited.

"Hoo," she squeals, stepping past the threshold and shutting the door. She tousles her own hair using both her hands and shifts her weight to one foot. "Freaking stinks in here. Pheromone city... I'm getting a little woozy. Is this where you fuck your own sister, Wes? Don't lie to me."

"Summer--" you begin.

"I know, I know," she cuts in. "No frisky stuff. Don't want your mom to overhear." She sits on your bed. "I just wanna watch you change. You'll do that for me, right, babe?"

K-Mom recently took pity on you and washed your clothes, so you have a dresser full of options to choose from. You dig through the drawers, tossing the unselected articles aside unfolded and rumpled on the ground, until at last you find a suitably plain but serviceable sweater and jeans combo. Ditching your tee and shorts which end up mingled with the clean clothes on the ground, you pull the sweater over partially your head. But behind you, Summer purrs:

"Uh, Wes, honey? Undies?"

You turn to face her with both arms still inside the sweater. Heat rises through your chest and into your face. "My underwear? You... want me to--"

Summer leans back. Way back, bracing herself against the mattress with both hands, spreading her legs just slightly. "Uh huh. You want to be fresh and clean for the big event, right?" She licks her lips.

In less than a week's time, Summer has gone from being a trembling little virgin to being a woman-eater. Very dangerous. And in such dangerous waters, you have no choice, really, but to comply with her demented demands. In as unsexy a way as you can manage, you go fully nude -- then slip on a fresh set of underwear. Summer makes an appreciative "mmm" at the show anyway.

You're glad you have clean garments to choose from. You can only imagine what Summer would say if she saw what you usually do.

"It's so messy in here," Summer says, looking around. Her voice drops about half an octave: "...Let's make it messier tonight."

You gulp. Going double-time now, you slip on the sweater and jeans, and usher her out of the room.

>>4797745
Dangerous Summer is best Summer.

>>4797745
>You dig through the drawers, tossing the unselected articles aside unfolded and rumpled on the ground
Oh no no no, not again. Pick up your fucking clothes, Wes.

>>4797745
>brb

Sigh.

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You're surprised to find N-Mom outside your bedroom. She was standing there slightly stooped -- now she reels back in shock, going rigid, when the door swings open.

"...Mom?" You say.

"W-Wes! I was just coming -- coming to check on you."

Summer massages your shoulders up by you neck. "I kept her safe, miss Keki." She plays her fingers through your messy hair. "Normally I'd tell her to use a hairbrush, buuuut... the bedhead look is cute, don't you think?"

"Are you ready to go?" N-Mom asks, seeming almost as mortified as you.

---

"Where is it?" N-Mom asks, settling into the driver's seat of her VW Avalon as you and Summer clamber into back. N-Mom pulls the seatbelt down across her chest and clicks it into place. She makes sure it isn't twisted and tests its tension to check that it's securely fastened. Such a worrywart.

"Here in town," Summer says. "Not far. Middlefield Road, across from Hoover Park -- by the Safeway."

N-Mom meets Summer's gaze in the rearview. "Oh, nice. That's right near my favorite cafe."

But N-Mom loses her train of thought as the buzz of a riding mower draws near. Looking through the tinted driver's side window, she finds K-Mom struggling to climb off the mower's high seat. N-Mom, like a fleeing bank robber who just heard sirens, fires the ignition and tries to gun it out of the driveway. But K-Mom, jogging up, cuts her off, forcing N-Mom to jam on the brakes.

K-Mom pounds angrily on N-Mom's window. Her voice comes through, albeit muffled: "Who is that?"

N-Mom rolls the window down, slowly. Looking abashed, she asks: "Who is who?"

"Oh, fuck off." She points at Summer. "Her! Who is she?"

"Summer!" Summer says. "Pleased to meet ya!"

K-Mom makes a what-the-fuck motion at N-Mom with both hands.

"Will you cut it out?" N-Mom says. "She's one of Wes's friends from school. That's all. I'm taking them to Ophie's concert."

"Together?" K-Mom says.

"No. Separately. What the hell does it look like?"

K-Mom grips the door frame and leans in through the window. "You're Wes's friend?" She asks Summer.

Summer nods in her bubbly way, and hugs you close.

K-Mom narrows her eyes. She leans even further through the window, forcing N-Mom to cringe and recoil to the side. "Just friends? Are you two dating, by any chance?"

"We're--" Summer begins.

N-Mom puts a hand against K-Mom's forehead and forces her back from whence she came. "Jesus, Kay. You're going to embarrass Wes."

"Oh, just Wes, huh?" She hurries around the front, her palm sliding across the sleek blue hood as if she has to physically hold the car in place to keep it from taking off. Maybe she does. Reaching the passenger side, she hops in with you all -- still wearing her grass-stained shirt and shorts -- and clacks her own seatbelt on. Unlike N-Mom, she got it twisted.

>>4797793
This is a good tie. How long can Noelle keep it quiet?

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>>4797793
Oh hell yes

>>4797793
FUCKING GOLD

>>4797793
>favorite cafe
[nervous laughter]

Kay can smell victory from a mile away.

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There's a brief and awkward silence. "All right, great, let's go," K-Mom says, gesticulating, a bit out of breath from her hurrying.

"I'm going to have to get this interior retouched because of you," N-Mom says. "Do you know how hard grass is to get out of upholstery like this?"

K-Mom flicks N-Mom's forehead. "Dolt. Won't be the first time, will it? I'll pay for it. Happy?"

"Oh, I like this one," Summer says. "I can tell who wears the pants."

K-Mom, turning and propping her elbow on the center console to talk with Summer directly, says: "don't you forget it." She casts a brief glance your way, before continuing to Summer: "us pants-wearers have to be a little stern, sometimes, to keep the non-pants-wearers in line. That's a valuable lesson for you." She tilts her head slightly forward. "If you need it."

"You're sick," N-Mom says, throwing the car into gear, and pulling out of the drive.

[ ] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.
[ ] Go straight to the grand opening.

>>4797793
God I love these two gays like you wouldn't believe

>>4797805
>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber
YES

>>4797805
>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.

>>4797805
>[ ] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.
The other option is just rude. And I want to see how bonkers this ride can get.

>>4797805
[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.
Fuck it, the more the merrier. Let's get everyone on board who could possibly embarrass our girl.

>>4797805
>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Dad
real choice, alabaster in the back seat.

>>4797805
>"That's a valuable lesson for you. If you need it."

Don't count your chickens yet, Kay. You might wind up seeing more eggs hatch than you expect.

>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.

>>4797805
Sure, more fuel to the fire!

>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.

>>4797823
Actually, I'd be surprised if Amber wasn't at the concert already just to see Ophie. Surely Ally and Whitney are already there. Maybe even Rose? Deffo Renee.

But this is Wes's story, right? Let's not rely on our favorites too much!

>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.

Closing and writing.

>>4797827
(I say this fully cognizant of me diving headfirst into any Amber vote)

>>4797828
oh boy oh boy ho boy

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>[x] Stop at Dad's house to pick up Amber.

Dad's house is kitty-corner from yours, and any excuse to leave the quickly-growing-awkward confines of this car is a good enough excuse in your book. As you hop out, K-Mom says to Summer: "so -- while we wait -- tell me aaaall about you and Wes..."

---

You wander the cozy downstairs area of the house. Aunt Whitney doesn't know you know, but Amber once told you that she (Whitney) had christened this place the Nail House. It's not hard to tell why, as you pass from the living area into the den:

Dad has his face buried between Aunt Rose's pale thighs, who's kicked back on a dining table with one calf draped over his head, curling her toes. At least this time it's the Aunt Rose he's married to, and not the one he's related to... well, not immediately related to, anyway. Aunt Rose is gyrating against him, and she doesn't see you until way, way too late. "Good puppy. That's it. Smell my c-- Wesley!" Rose swings her leg up and over Dad's head, flips her skirt down and smooths it out. She hops off the table. Dad drunkenly stumbles to his feet.

"So... nice-- uh, so surprising, to see you," she says with a pinched-off voice.

Dad's face is the color of an overripe tomato. He slicks his hair back. "What are doing here?"

You stare at them.

"We... were wrestling," Aunt Rose explains. "You know."

"I see," you say.

"...Rose won," Dad says, trying to strike a tone of helpfully filling in details.

"Uh huh." You glance all around and ask, "do you guys know where Amber is?"

"Where Amb--" Aunt Rose begins. "She said she was with you."

"Oh." You wait just long enough for it to become awkward. "Well, she isn't."

Dad and Rose both sort of shake their heads at each other in frustration. But they're beyond the point of truly caring about Amber's lies.

"Tell her I'm looking for her if you see her," you say.

"Of course," Dad says.

"You two are going to Ophie's concert, right?" Rose says. "She's probably there already."

"Maybe," you allow. "Well. Enjoy your wrestling."

You leave it at that. As you walk away, Aunt Rose hisses to Dad: "Asshole!" To which he hisses back: "Asshole? How am I the asshole? You're the one who decided to sit on my fucking face in broad daylight..."

If Amber had left for the concert already, she definitely would have come to drag you from your masturbatorium first. So she can't be very far. You've got an idea of where she may be.

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>>4797864
>Rose won

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In the guardhouse. Of course. Amber let you walk right past without noticing you -- or maybe she didn't bother to flag you down because she wanted to finish up with Tyrus. The two are deep into a game of backgammon, sitting atop barstools, facing off from opposite sides of a folding table. Amber has her elbows on her knees and her chin propped on both fists as she contemplates her move. She finally selects one of the draughts and slides it across the board. The move makes Tyrus smile. And when Tyrus rolls, Amber obviously doesn't like the result.

"Motherfucker! You're fucking cheating! Fuck you!"

"You know, the doubling cube's at 64," Tyrus says. "It don't go higher than that. You gotta pay up after this one."

"...Amber?" You say.

Amber swivels in place. "Yeah, I know. Ophie's thing. And thank fucking god, too. I can't deal with this, this..." She spins back towards Tyrus and points at him. "This goddamn -- cheater! You're cheating!"

Tyrus tugs on his lapel. "I take payment in crypto or stock options."

Amber pulls a tiny drawer out of the side of the backgammon board and produces another doubling cube. She sets it beside the first so its face reads 2.

64 times 2 -- she's increasing the stakes by 128x. "This isn't over," she snarls.

"You're gonna bankrupt your daddy," Tyrus says.

"Oh, you fucking wish." She hops off the stool. "C'mon, Wes. Let's Go."

Tyrus laughs.

"Not over!" Amber says over her shoulder as her only parting shot, slamming the door behind her. Seems neither of you are faring well against the Kangs today.

>>4797868
What

>>4797868
Soooo not a board member. Just security chief. Got it.

Wew fucking lad.

>>4797868
Hah. It's nice to see Tyrus again when he isn't actively trying to kill a member of the cast.

We'll see how well that fares once we start boarding the Lily train

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Amber's expression drops when she sees N-Mom's Avalon out front. "Oh, the paddy wagon." She glances in through the backseat. "With a bonus base-bitch in the back to ride with. Cool. Fucking cool."

"Stop," you say. "It's not far. And you like Summer more than I do, even."

"I like her aesthetically," Amber clarifies. "She's cute, but only if she isn't running her mouth. Which is always. ...Unless you put something over it, of course."

You don't dignify her with a response. You just climb inside, taking the center seat, to keep the two of them separated.

When you settle, you're surprised to find K-Mom looking dour and grumpy up front. "That was quick," she says. You sense sarcasm. "I was just talking to your..."

She trails off.

"Your friend," N-Mom finishes.

"That's us!" Summer says, looping an arm around yours. "Couple a gal pals!"

K-Mom eyes you both suspiciously. N-Mom is exultant as she puts the car in gear: "all buckled up, chickadees?"

"Just drive, pig," Amber says.

N-Mom gives her a look in the rearview. "You start and you're getting some grade-A police brutality. Just FYI."

"Wouldn't expect any less. You got your best jackboots on, too? I don't want to lick fake leather."

N-Mom tilts her head, half frustrated at Amber, and half confused.

"Yah!" Amber calls, pretending to crack a whip. "Yah! Giddyup, pig! Time's a-wastin'!"

N-Mom pulls away from the curb and starts down the road. Amber gives Summer a sly and cheeky grin. Summer, in response, tugs your arm to pull you a bit closer to her bosom.

(please wait warmly)

>>4797896
Ohhhh boy, we're really doing this huh?

>>4797898
Practically tradition at this point

>>4797896
oh god oh fuck

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>>4797896

Outside it is cool, but inside, I am warm.

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K-Mom takes to scrolling through her phone. "What do you want for dinner?" She asks N-Mom.

"Anywhere in town that delivers crow?" N-Mom says.

"You made your point already," K-Mom says.

"I'll let you decide on dinner. I'm a gracious victor."

"Uh huh. Thai it is." She glances up to give N-Mom an angry, patently false smile. "I'll punish your butthole twice in one night."

N-Mom exhales hard. "Kay--!" She leans in and whispers: "Wes is--"

"Wes is a big girl." K-Mom looks back at you and Summer. "With a cute girlfriend."

"Uh huh!" Summer agrees.

"That is not--" N-Mom begins. But K-Mom waves off whatever would have come next, and starts scrolling again. She seems to be deliberating on where to order from.

Big girl or not, you could have done without either of the mental images K-Mom planted in your head just now. Oh well.

N-Mom makes small talk with Summer. Creepy small talk. "You smell really nice. Do you mind me saying that? I have to know what you're using."

Amber snorts.

"I don't mind at all, Miss Keki!" Summer chirps. Beside you, Amber rolls her eyes and pantomimes jerking off. An old move she picked up from her mother. Summer puts a forefinger to her chin and stares at the upholstered ceiling. "Hrm. Let's see... today I'm wearing Honeybee Dandy deodorant -- they're this cute little co-op from San Bernadino that uses real honey in their products, you know, for antibacterial properties? -- and, uh... perfume today is Realiti by Grimes -- just a spritz or two, you can't overdo it -- and of course, I'm always but always wearing my favorite cocoa butter lotion!" She opens her purse to show N-Mom the travel bottle stashed in there. "Can't leave home without it!" She pulls it out now, squirts a dollop into her palm, and starts to lather it across her toned arms. The car fills with the almost overpowering scent of it. "White people can get ashy too -- I should know -- with this complexion, it really shows!"

N-Mom is turned almost fully around in her seat by now, and seems to be getting led by her nose as she leans further and further towards Summer. She looks half hypnotized. The car's indicator dings gently and the computer reminds her: "Please keep your eyes on the road at all times." N-Mom ignores it.

"Mom. The road." You say.

She blinks out of it. "Huh? Oh. It's fine. Drive assist." She looks at Summer. "Could you write that down for me? What you're using?"

"Uh, sure. But... I don't have paper..." Summer says.

"You can text me. Wes, give her my number so she can text me."

>>4798003
Calm down Noelle, yeesh.

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K-Mom shakes her head. Not glancing up from her phone, she says: "you come home stinking like cocoa butter, I'm not gonna fuck you."

"Kay!!"

"Ever hear the word jailbait, Noelle? I'm not trying to have your colleagues raid our house."

This drags N-Mom's eyes back to the road. Finally. "You are really sick, you know that?"

"Mm-hmm," K-Mom murmurs.

"16 is legal in Cali now!" Summer says, like she's just trying to help.

N-Mom gasps, and her hands jerk the steering wheel to the left. The car lurches towards the median before immediately lurching back the other way, leaving you all feeling seasick. The computer warns: "lane assist active. Stay in your lane and obey the rules of the road at all times."

But N-Mom isn't the only one put on the back foot by that remark. K-Mom is also staring back in shock at Summer. Summer grins at her.

"Here, babe, gimme your phone," she tells you. "I'll add your Mom to my contacts."

"Hope you can get used to the whole cocoa butter thing," Amber tells K-Mom. "She'll be smelling like it for days." K-Mom grimaces at her, and returns to placing her order -- but this time, her olive skin is blushing red.

"Keki..." Summer says, as she enters the details into the phone. "That is such a cute name. I've always wondered... what is it? Japanese? Botswani?"

"...Botswani?" N-Mom repeats. "Do we look African?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure Botswana's in Asia," Summer says, with a frankly kind of bitchy tone, as if explaining something obvious.

"Africa," you confirm to her, whispering.

She frowns. "...Really?"

"It's Filipino," N-Mom says. "Well. My dad is Filipino. It's not a common surname as far as I'm aware."

"It's cute, though!" She leans back, hands laced behind her head. "Way cuter than Denali. I'd so rather have a name like Keki than Denali."

"You get laid like one time and you're already talking about marriage?" Amber breathes. "Christ."

K-Mom's eyes go wide and she spins around to gaze at you all. "What did you say?"

"You'll get a turn on the bike too," Amber tells her. "Don't worry."

N-Mom rubs K-Mom's arm to get her attention facing forwards again. "If you ever wondered what Wes is," N-Mom explains to Summer, "I'm half Filipino and half Taiwanese. Wes's father is white... French, to be specific, he says -- thinks he's a real Pierre Delecto type."

"Wow," Summer says. "That explains so much. Well, I dig it. Wes has this, like, totally Eurasian vibe to her that's so precious."

You massage your eyes. "Please stop..."

Summer giggles. "Sorry, babe. You're just too cute!"

"I'm the straightest person in this car, you know," K-Mom mutters to N-Mom.

"Can it."

"Money's mine. All I'm saying."

>>4798030
God

GOD

>>4798030
Oh my *god* this is beautiful.

Now that I think about it, can't believe Kay to Noelle's last name.

Not very pants-wearer of her.

>>4798038

This was something I thought about a lot before WBA came out! In the original FQ, Kay alludes to having some daddy issues a time or two. Noelle meanwhile seems to have thought pretty highly of her own father. So I decided that Kay would rather adopt Noelle's surname than vice-versa.

>>4798040
Thank you for this. Love all the small details.

>>4798030
>thinks he's a real Pierre Delecto type
Oh God, Alabaster, just because you have two wives doesn't mean you have to be a Mormon

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Finally, FINALLY caught this while it's running
It feels good to be back

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>>4798055
>still using the old one

Get with the times, fampai.

>>4798058
<3

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https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewd-wes4

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>>4798030
>Wes has this, like, totally Eurasian vibe to her that's so precious.
oh no

>>4798063
OHH BOY

>>4798063
Ohhhhhhh man.

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At the grand opening, N-Mom pulls alongside the curb abutting Hoover Park. There's a huge crowd congregating across the street, descending on the strip mall where the new Denali Furniture & Flooring outlet sits. You didn't expect the opening of a furniture store to be such a draw. Well, maybe it's the flooring. Maybe people are way more into flooring than you ever gave them credit for.

The three of you shuffle out of the Avalon. N-Mom rolls her window down, but she almost can't seem to meet your gaze. That's fair. You can't meet hers.

K-Mom looks up from her phone for the first time in minutes. "We staying, honey? Or...? I've got our order ready to go. I could send it off and we can eat at Mr. Pad while we wait, if you want."

N-Mom, somewhat dazed, nods at her. "Y-yeah. Yeah. I'm sure they don't want old ladies like us in their hair."

"Which hair?" Amber asks.

N-Mom lets that hang. "When do you girls want us to pick you up?"

Summer saunters up, hips swaying, and leans in through the open window with both forearms folded over the frame. Her voice is silk. "When do you want to pick us up?"

N-Mom quivers. K-Mom reaches across her and holds the button to roll the driver's side window back up. Summer is forced to step back as the tinted pane forces its way past her arms. Over the rising glass, K-Mom tells her, "We'll be back at 10:00. Fuck my daughter, not my wife, all right, Summer?" Through the now fully-closed window, she smiles and adds: "Thanks in advance!"

Noelle has her eyes facing firmly forward as she pulls away, leaving you all to yourselves.

Summer glances at you. "Well that sucks. She didn't say anything about her stance on fucking her, though."

"Please don't fuck my moms," you say.

"That's cute," Amber says. "You think you get a say in that."

Summer frowns at her. "Very funny, Amber. Of course Wes gets a say in it. Well -- I won't do it if you're not into it, anyway," she promises you. Then, lowering her voice, she says: "I think you're into it, though."

"Oh, she is," Amber says. "She definitely is."

Your knees are still a little weak, and you're not thinking straight enough to say whether you are, or aren't.

>>4798083
Noelle is so fucking broken by this whole ordeal. I LOVE it

>>4798063
Oh yeah oh yeah, fun subversion - for once it's not Kay noticing the backseat shenanigans!

>>4798063
Jesus Christ what a scene.

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Regardless of the reason, furniture and/or flooring, the parking lot outside this new store is totally slamma jamma. A big, bustling group of people like this, all noisy and tightly packed and sweaty... no, no thank you. But thou must.

Situated beside the pristine storefront and its GRAND OPENING banner, there's a white tent. Underneath which the Tone Police are even now getting themselves set up -- plugging in amps, testing volume levels, tuning instruments. It looks like they found a replacement bassist in time for the concert after all: Auburn fucking Brantly.

"Oh, that mother cunter," Amber groans. "Hold on, Wes." She runs towards the tent to give Auburn a piece of her mind -- and maybe something much worse than just that.

"You gonna be ok on your own for a bit, babe?" Summer asks. "I gotta go check the new place out before the hoppoly get inside."

You blink. "Hoppoly? Like the board game?"

"Like... unwashed masses. You know."

"Hoi polloi?"

"Yeah. That. And... if I talk my mom into it... she might let you inside before the others, too." She raises her eyebrows and lets you mull that over. You get the message. She pecks you on the cheek before jogging off. "brb!"

You've got a nice place to hang out while you wait, anyway. You may not be a heavy eater, but one thing you can't resist is a buffet table lined with hors d'oeuvres. God's in his heaven; you're in yours. You start at one end and eat your way down. Cheese and bacon rollups, tuna spread on Ritz crackers, deviled eggs, potato skin bites... if you focus on the food, you can almost ignore the hoppoly all around you.

Shrill feedback cuts across the parking lot like a sonic assault, before swiftly resolving into a voice: it's Ophie, doing her best attempt at showmanship. "Greetings. Welcome to Denali Furniture & Flooring. We are the Tone Police. We are here to entertain you. ... ... Enjoy."

You pause, and watch the ad hoc stage as a bumping synth groove swells up as if it had always been there to begin with. The crowd quiets down -- the music hooks them right away. Ophie's head bobs, just slightly, as she fingers her keytar. Auburn sways and strums, surprisingly proficient for a boy you've only ever seen handle a ukulele. Will, of course, thinks he's a regular... a regular... uh, you're not too knowledgeable about drummers, so let's say.... a regular That Guy Who Drummed For Metallica, Probably. And at center stage, on the keyboard, Talia sways like something fluid. Her voice is more sultry than you've ever heard: "I surrender. Yes I do. Great pretender -- nothing's new. We're out in the open. We're out in the open..."

"WHOOOO! TONE POLICE! YEAH!"

That lone voice, calling above the now otherwise mostly quiet and appreciative crowd -- you recognize it as Aunt Whitney's. Ophie, poor Ophie, asked her parents not to come to this thing. Dad and Aunt Rose respected that (and, as you found out, they needed the me-time). Aunt Whitney just couldn't help herself, though. She's so proud.

>>4798108
>Raisin Brant
yeurgh

There are better drummers than Lars freaking Ulrich, Wes. Way better. I promise.

>>4798108
>Aunt Whitney just couldn't help herself, though. She's so proud.
Big d'awws

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You bop your head in tune to the music as you keep eating your way across the table. A little further down, you bump into a semi-familiar face: Nelson Berenstoin, pigging out on pigs in a blanket. You're not up to date on all the hottest trends in rabbinic law, but you're pretty confident that's still not kosher. Well, the collection of Hawaiian shirts and the continually unkempt mane sort of gave away that he was never a devout practitioner, anyway.

"What do you think?" He asks, nodding at the stage.

"Hm? Oh. Good." You grab a pig in a blanket too. When in Rome, do as the Jews do.

"It's not my thing, honestly," Nelson says. "I'm more into prog. But for the genre... they've got some real juju."

You look all around -- not that you would recognize anyone else from the Berenstoin clan if you saw them -- but it's something that kind of bugs you, anyway. "How come you're the only one who ever shows up to these things?" You ask him.

Nelson shrugs. "I've always liked Talia. I'm sort of her Berenstoin cheerleader."

"Why not her parents or something?"

"Oh-- well-- her parents are a little more orthodox-- uh, practicing, you know. They don't really support--" He adjusts his glasses, coughs, picks up another pig in a blanket. "And you know, it's Shabbat now, technically."

"Sunset on a Friday-- yeah," you say, nodding.

"Anyway, h--" Nelson coughs again, a fist to his mouth, as if he choked on his food. He struggles to regain his composure. "The band's good, is the point," he finally says.

"Think they could go pro?" You ask.

"They need a full-time bassist first. I don't think the current one's gonna last."

He points. Your eyes follow. Auburn is doing his best to play through it without flinching, but pebbles of increasingly large diameter are tinking off of him and his guitar. You can guess who's hurling them. You debate whether to go and stop her. On the one hand, she could indirectly ruin Ophie's night like this. On the other hand, seeing Auburn eat shit is never not funny. And also, you're still hungry.

You keep chowing down.

>>4798111
Cliff might still be their bassist in this timeline, Lars could've held it together

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From your right comes a gentle voice: "you must be Wesley."

You freeze, hunched over the buffet table -- you have the posture and mien of a neanderthal, your mouth still stuffed with lil' smokies and chimichurri meatballs. You slowly swivel your head, humiliated, to find the source of the voice: Liz Denali. She's not dressed like a cop anymore. Rather in the respectable pencil skirt and ruffled blouse of a businesswoman. You try to swallow, but there's still some food in your mouth as you respond: "weffey?"

"You are Wesley, right?" She says. She proffers a forearm. "I'm Liz. Summer's mother."

You straighten your spine (somewhat), swallow the last of the half-masticated meat product, and return the arm bump. "Yeah, I recognize you," you tell her. "...I love your commercials."

"No you don't," Liz tells you, smiling bright.

You awkwardly take a shrimp tartlet from the table and bite into it so you don't have to respond.

"Those commercials are awful," Liz says. "That's the whole point! They're so bad that you can't forget 'em. Even if you want to, which you do. They get stuck in your head." She mimics her wild-west shooting pose from the commercial: "bang!" -- and then cackles like mad.

"...Bang," you repeat.

>>4798124
OH NO SHE'S CUTE

>>4798123
Truth here.

>>4798124
Oh no, she's a genius.

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"Anyhoo. I'm so glad we finally got to meet. I wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome," you say, reflexively. A beat passes. You glance around. "For..."

"Don't be so modest! You really helped my daughter out. So much. I mean... let's be honest, she had no idea what she was doing. Sure, she acted like she was this bigshot, but really... she was completely inexperienced."

Clearing your throat, with your fingertips to your neck to help you out, you manage: "she was... fine... uh, d-did she... did she really tell y--"

"Now, though? After a little bit with you? She's basically a pro!"

You gawk at her. "Pro? Pro is -- 'pro' really overselling it--"

"She's even teaching me new things! Stuff I've never even seen before."

Your eyes attain the diameter of Saturn.

Liz leans in, adopting the tone of a gossipy schoolgirl. "Surprised? I know what you're thinking."

"You do?"

"You're thinking -- an old woman like me? Picking up new skills from my own daughter? Well, you're never too old to learn, you know!" Giggling, she adds: "a-yeah. It gets pretty wild in Casa Denali after dark. Hey, you should come over sometime. You could teach us both a few of your special tricks." When you cannot even muster sputtering stuttering to this barrage of insanity, Liz, frowning, says: "if money's the thing, I can pay you, don't worry. You deserve it. I'm not too proud to pay for your services. Neither is Summer."

"...I'm... you -- mon-- this is really kind of -- kind of--"

"The results speak for themselves, really. Summer used to hate math. She went from a D average last year, to acing every test so far this year."

"Math..."

"A turnaround like that? In such a short amount of time -- it's so impressive!"

"Math," you repeat.

She runs a hand down your arm. "I can't even begin to thank you enough. And, well, since I've been thinking of going back to college myself... turns out you were tutoring two for one and didn't even know it!"

"Math."

"Hate it! But hey, you at least helped it make sense to me. Better than my teachers in school ever did!"

You chew another tartlet.

>>4798128
o i am laffin

>>4798128
Wes' gay panic will never not be funny

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"Well. I'm going to be emceeing in a little bit, but... Summer wanted me to give you this."

She passes a key from her palm to yours. You hold it up in front of your face, examining it.

"What is this?" You ask.

"It's the key to the kingdom, of course. You can go and explore the place before I let everyone in. Summer is just dying to show you around. Be careful you don't get lost, though. I model my stores after Ikea. Have to steal with pride if you want to take down the top dogs!"

"Ikea, huh?" You say with a laugh. "Do you have meatballs, too?"

Liz hums. "Oh? Are you really into meatballs, Wesley?"

Your laughter dies an awkward death.

"Go have fun, dear," she says. You feel like you've got to comply.

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That's a good place to stop for now. Goodnight, and see you Sunday evening.

>>4798139
Good shit OP. Catch ya tomorrow

>>4798139
See ya soon, OP! Thanks for running!

>>4798124
>>4798128
>>4798135
I absolutely love her already.

>>4798139
Have a great night OP! Thanks for everything!

>>4798139
Got to this late but thanks for another one of your great rides OP!

>>4798124
>>4798128
>>4798135

Liz feels like an episode of Arrested Development, I can really see your influences reflected in your writing.

>>4798139
euroanon catching up, waiting longer for this ep was so worth it

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>>4798030
OP I made this and it's your fault

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>>4797864
>You stare at them.
And at this instant, you can see Wesley give up on trying to understand the intricate web of relationships between the adults in her family.
Again.
>>4798003
>>4798030
>The smell exchange
>Summer dropping bombs
Whew... I swear, one of Wes' moms is going to end up pulling a Renee and get gal'd up for the other or double molest Summer, and it's going to be great.
>>4798063
W-Whew....
>>4798119
This exchange might be the best of the episode. Sorry Liz/Summer.
And what's the trigger to get Chabad to send Mossad out to protect Rose4?
>>4798124
>>4798128
>>4798135
God she's so outstanding.

I am ready for the B-side!

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>>4799166
It would have cost you zero American dollars to not do this, Anonymous-dono.

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Cutting through the crowd on your way to the storefront, you find Noah, sitting on the concrete base of one of the parking lot's overhead lights. His perch doesn't look very comfortable, being just high enough that he can't get his feet on the ground, and too insubstantial for him to get his whole butt resting atop it. He's just kind of dangling there, maybe a bit precariously, but he looks well at ease. Or rather: he looks as expressionless as always. The setting sun glints off his lenses, obscuring his eyes, but the rest of his face is blank enough that you figure there's nothing more to be discerned from seeing his eyes anyway. He seems to be paying close attention to the concert, his head pointed directly at the stage, where by now it's Ophie singing for the Tone Police: "First time that I met you, I could not forget you. From the moment that you appeared: chemical reaction, immediate attraction. You're already pulling me near..."

"Nice to see you," you tell him as you sidle up.

"Likewise."

"I kind of didn't expect you to show up."

"Likewise."

Okay, Noah... you can be cutting when you want to be. "Good music?" you ask him. "Having fun? Was it worth skipping out on your research?"

He doesn't reply. Such a conversationalist, Noah.

"I'm sure Ophie will be really happy you came," you tell him.

"She was. I spoke with her before the show."

"Oh."

But he leaves it at that. Sliding from the bollard, he stands on two feet -- barely taller than you are -- and dusts off the back of his pants. "I should be going," he tells you.

That kind of pisses you off, if you're being honest. You don't mind being ignored or bullied yourself, but seeing your sister get the cold shoulder is enough to boil your blood. Then again, this is all too predictable. Noah is Noah -- he's denser than a neutron star, and probably needs someone who's willing to tell him, directly, to his face, and without any to-do, that Ophie wants to jump his bones. If no one ever scoops him, he'll never fucking figure it out on his own. He'll figure out the Grand Unified Field Theory first.

[ ] Tell Noah how your sister feels.
[ ] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

>>4799212
In our paused economy, many small business owners can't afford to make zero dollars, and that's exactly why it's so crucial that we extend the payment term on PPP loans now, instead of waiting for it to become a crisis.

>>4799230
>[x] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

>>4799230
Noah you FUCKING dipshit

>[x] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.
As much of a fucking moron as he is, I don't think we should interfere with this. Ophie needs to be able to handle it herself and her doing so will be cute as fuck

>>4799238
Thanks for looking out for us, Mitt.
>>4799230
>[ ] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

>>4799230
>[x[ You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

Having said that, we should definitely help from the Ophie side of things.

Oh shit here we go

>[ ] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

Wish we had an option where we could do more without betraying Ophie, but I guess this is what we can do.

>>4799230
>[x] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

>>4799230
>[x] Tell Noah how your sister feels.
>"Ophie will be even more happy if you hang around after the concert's done."

Might still be too subtle for Noah, but it's the best I can come up without being too "in your face".

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>[x] You shouldn't interfere. Let their romance blossom or wilt on its own.

"You know, you're a real--" you begin. Noah cocks his head, but you restrain yourself from telling him what you really think, or what Ophie really thinks either.

You settle for something much more milquetoast and equivocal. "Don't you think Ophie would be even happier if you stayed until after the concert?"

"You really care about your sister," Noah says.

"Well... yeah. She's my sister."

"I'm very busy tonight. Tell her I wish I could have stayed." He looks up towards heaven. He spends another quarter of an eternity mulling his words. "And also that... her music is lovely."

He brushes past.

Jeeesus. Some people are helpless. Noah isn't going to realize Ophie feels the same way unless she forces herself on him. That's just the way it has to be. Watching him slowly slink from the lot without so much as a goodbye -- a classic Irish Exit -- you're quietly thankful that you aren't nearly as obtuse as him.

>>4799306
Oh Noah, you sweet summer child. Whitney's gonna have to teach Ophie some lessons about wooing the dense.

>>4799306
>you're quietly thankful that you aren't nearly as obtuse as him.
Big heh

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Glancing to the side, you see Liz still over by the buffet table -- and she looks a lot less effusive than she was when she handed you her "key to the kingdom." She's talking to a tall, lanky, hoboishly scruffy man in clothes not at all befitting the California autumn (you say this as someone wearing a sweater that's getting kind of sweaty). His overcoat is overlong and overthick, and his multiple layers underneath only compound things.

This guy sort of reminds you of your Dad, in that definitely-practiced-how-to-look-broody sort of way. You're nosy. And you're not surprised to find out that he is, himself, a dad -- he's got that energy:

"What are you doing here, Gideon?" Liz says.

You recognize the name. Summer's told you about him. This would be her deadbeat dad, who skipped town when she was only little and left mom to run both home and business.

Maybe you shouldn't have been nosy. Maybe this wasn't the conversation for you to snoop on. But now you're too close to the pair to quickly extricate yourself without the risk of being seen. You have to slouch steadily back in your best impression of Solid Snake.

"I needed to see you," Gideon says. "Liz, there might be some people looking for me soon. Be safe."

"People? What people? Waltz through here and lead these criminals to me too, why don't you!"

Step by step, you awkwardly shuffle to the side, scooching away while trying not be noticed scooching away.

"Public places like these, with lots of people... are the safest way to be in touch. And -- listen, this is sudden, but I need you to take Winter for a little while, too."

"Oh! Okay! And where is she, huh? Are you hiding her from these mysterious 'people', too?"

"Sort of."

"You are unbelievable--"

"She's coming down on a train."

"You let Winter take a train all the way from-- by herself?"

"She's old enough. This is the best way."

Back... and to the left... back... and to the left... almost far enough away that you can turn and run.

"The less you know," Gideon says, "the better it'll be. I have some business to finish up down here and then I'll be gone -- for good this time."

"Maybe I should make this divorce official. You definitely aren't taking Winter back. Not after this... this insanity!"

"Do you really want the cops and the courts involved in this, Liz? Have them start questioning where our money originally came from? I'll be out of you hair soon enough. Then you can go back to living your nice, comfortable life."

"Comfortable?! I've been running this entire business, have you noticed? Or are you blind! Do you see what's going on around you? All me! When you left, we had two stores. Now *I* have seven. With three more coming next year, including our first outside the state. I've broken my back for this business, so don't you go making snide remarks about how I'm living some sort of pampered life..."

You turn and make a break for it. That was bad of you, Wesley. Very bad. You shouldn't have listened in on that.

>>4799318
oh god oh fuck oh shit

IT'S PLOT TIME

>>4799318
>And -- listen, this is sudden, but I need you to take Winter for a little while, too."
Oh my GOD they just keep coming

>>4799306
>you're quietly thankful that you aren't nearly as obtuse as him.
Pfft, sure Wes.

Well, Noah's probably gonna have to deal with Amber shoving him into action now.

>>4799318
Oh shit, we getting serious. It's practically an artform how Wes just casually sneaks into awkward situations.

>>4799318
If he isn't a cleaner for the Russian Mafia...

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Shaken, you step past the tent where the Tone Police are performing, on your way towards the storefront. Amber notices you and stops pelting Auburn with rocks. From close up you can see that Auburn is more than a little bit bruised, and he looks absolutely miserable. Still plays a mean bass, though.

"Are you done stoning your boyfriend to death?" You ask.

"He is NOT my fucking -- whoa, hey -- where are you going?"

You unlock one of the store's double-doors and swing it open. Smirking, you say, "Inside. I have the VIP pass."

"Sweet. Let's go."

Keeping the door held ajar, you push against her chest to keep her from crossing the threshold. You kind of relish being the furniture bouncer here. "Hey. Liz Denali gave me the VIP pass. Not you..."

"You got that key from Liz Denali? The woman herself? Bang Liz Denali?"

Phrasing, Amber, you think...

Amber visors her brow with a flattened palm and sweeps her eyes across the crowd. "Where is that bimbo? I wanna see how much of a strumpet she is in real life."

"You're gonna be underwhelmed..." you warn her. "The camera adds 10 pounds... and subtracts about 20 IQ points, I guess. Anyway, if you want to see her so badly, I guess she's giving a speech when Ophie's band is done. So you might want to wait out h--"

Amber shrugs. "Whatever. I'm not that interested. I'd rather go tooling around somewhere I'm not supposed to be."

[ ] Invite Amber in with you.
[ ] Keep her out; this is for you and Summer only.

>>4799336
>[x] Invite Amber in with you.

>>4799336
>[x] Keep her out; this is for you and Summer only.
Deito time

>>4799336
>[x] Invite Amber in with you.

I am a simple man. I see Amber, I vote Amber.

>>4799336
>[x] Keep her out; this is for you and Summer only.

>>4799318
>Kiritsugu
Uh oh.
Uh Oh.
UH OH.

>>4799336
>[x] Keep her out; this is for you and Summer only.

>>4799334
Bible trivia: Gideon was one of the Judges (fifth iirc?), desecrated altars to Baal, and struck down to Median kings with a paltry force. There were also trumpets involved somewhere (???)
>>4799336
>[ ] Invite Amber in with you.
Much as I love to get them wound up, the two are either on good terms or ready to snipe one another at a moment's notice. I wanna see which.

>>4799336
>[ ] Keep her out; this is for you and Summer only.

Let her keep flirting with her boyfriend and see Liz, we've got our own appointments to attend to.

>>4799336
>[X] Invite Amber in with you
Growing up in the Mormon faith, I was always taught we should be courteous to our family members.

>>4799361
"The less you know," Gideon says, "the better it'll be. I have some business to finish up down here and then I'll be gone -- for good this time."
Fuck. He's here to kill David Darkbloom, isn't he? Does Stasi exist in 422?

>>4799380
He has plot armor, though!

I see.

Please wait warmly.

>>4799390
Oh god oh man

>>4799390
oh fuck oh geez

>>4799380
Why stop at one? Do we know what Absalom's company does yet?

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You whistle. "Ohhh man -- Auburn looks pissed," you say. "Here he comes."

"Huh?" Amber says, spinning on her heels, looking this way and that. By the time she realizes she's been fooled, you've already slipped through the open door and locked it again from the inside.

Amber gawks at you from the opposite side of the nearly opaque glass. She bangs on it, alternating this with impotent tugging at the handles. "Wes! Let me in! You let me the fuck in right the fuck now! Hey! HEY! STOP LAUGHING! Oh I am so going to rape your stupid slut ass into the floor when I get my hands on you! Come back here!! I'm not done with you!!! HEY!"

You retreat a few steps into the store's eerily dark interior. The floor is a glossy finished concrete, the color of unbaked pie crust, and the only illumination is a few regularly spaced and dimly glowing emergency lights hanging far, far above. The shelves and racking interspersed among the displays, all bathed in deep dark pools of shadow, seem randomly arranged, and the entire place feels like a long-abandoned warehouse. It gives you the same sense of disquiet you've always felt when peering in at darkened, closed-for-business businesses. Now, being on the inside of one, you feel that disquiet even more strongly than ever.

But then, starting from the far end of the store, the deadened rows of domed lights come to life -- one row after another, in succession -- the xenon bulbs clunking on with the volume and foreboding reverberation of an army marching over a trussed bridge. Soon after: the muzak. It plays, distant but distinct, from the PA system. The bright white girded rafters along the ceiling and the white sheet-metal walls, baking the store's wares under eyeball melting white light, have transformed this place from spooky to obnoxious.

Behind you, and beyond the registers, along the wall near the entrance, you see Summer standing at a row of switches. She's bracing herself against the wall like a kid playing hide-and-seek who's cowering behind a tree while watching the seeker seek. You nod at her. Found, she gives up the stealth act -- flips a protective cover down over the switches again, locks it, and pushes herself off the wall. As she steps towards you with gaining momentum, her arms held wide, she twirls. Her skirt flutters in the breeze her spinning creates. It accentuates an already impressive ZR -- you can't help staring at her thighs, the way her stockings bite into them.

When she finally comes to a rest, tottering only once before she steadies herself, she smiles at you with a wide-open mouth. Her eyes gleam. She has the childlike enthusiasm of Wonka showing off his factory. "What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?"

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>>4799505
I'm sure this will be amazing and all, but I'm still disappointed in you, Anonymous-tachi.

Posting from work, wish i could be more active tonight with fellow anons but i'll be lurking when i can, loving the episode OP!

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"It's... big. Bigger than I thought."

"Right? Are you like, totally floored, or what?"

"Furnitured, too."

Summer giggles. She draws closer, takes both your hands in hers, draws them up between you.

"You want me to show you around?" Summer asks.

"Not really," you say.

She kisses you. You kiss her back. It's a kiss that lingers -- and it's actually Summer who cuts it off. She pulls her lips away, and you, half-lidded, a little desperate, try to follow with your lips still pursed, longing for the warmth and sweetness of her mouth. But she tugs you by the wrist and forces you to follow her deeper into the store. Past displays cordoned from one another with lighted silkscreens, winding through the serpentine shelves, among and around wire-mesh bins filled with tschotskes, beyond the nearly floor-to-ceiling flipbooks of carpet samples, until at last you come to a space so narrow it feels like an alleyway, which leads to a display modeled after some trendy studio apartment.

Except for the narrow lane leading in, this area has an 8-foot facade surrounding it made up to look like raw red brick. There's a lush Turkish carpet draped across the floor in vibrant red, blue, and green. At center, there's a squat black coffee table, with a lamp sitting atop that looks like it was fashioned from aluminum conduit. A beige sofa, with a matching recliner, to your left; a queen-sized bed directly ahead. Fake art on the fake walls and fake plastic trees to fill the space. An artificially aged bronze statue of an elephant about waist high along another wall. As hard as this all tries to look homey and comfy... it's too false, too unblemished and perfect, to seem like anything but a stage, a showroom, a place to hawk goods. You are in a store, after all -- you're in public.

But you're tucked away in an alcove that's hidden and not likely to get a lot of foot traffic. Summer wants to fuck you. In public.

You take a step towards that well-made bed. But Summer pushes you, forcing you instead to your butt on the sofa. Liz Denali picks high-quality showroom pieces. It's like sitting on a cloud. Your body sinks into the cushions like you'll never hit bottom, and as Summer follows you, as she presses you onto your back and gets on top of you, it's almost as if your body is melding with the couch itself; you feel like you're actually becoming the couch.

>>4799527
>you feel like you're actually becoming the couch
NOOOOOOOOOO

>>4799527
>it's almost as if your body is melding with the couch itself; you feel like you're actually becoming the couch.

Oh god DAMN IT

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Softness below and softness above: you're the bony meat of this sandwich. It makes you feel out-of-place.

You're lucky, then, that Summer likes you -- scrawny you, bony you, weird and creepy you. She does that thing where she parts your bangs to see you better, and then plays with your floofy hair. "Floofy" is her word here. She mumbles it to herself, a couple times, lovingly: "floofy..." as she combs it with her fingers and makes it even floofier.

Her gaze, when she wants to, can pierce. You gaze back at her. She kisses you, finally -- and writhes atop you, doting on you. "Wes..." she mumbles into your mouth. She bites your lower lip, roughly enough that you gasp. Then she trails kisses down your chin, over your neck, towards your breast. She buries her face against your sweater. Her voice makes the wool threads rumble and tickles you indirectly: "I didn't know what to tell your K-Mom... she asked if we were dating... and she wouldn't let up. But I didn't know the answer... are we dating, babe?"

You sort of shrug.

"I wanna date you," she says. "We fuck, but... I --" She perches her chin on your collarbone, to look playfully up at you. "Can this be our first date?"

"Seems like we're about to fuck, though..." you say.

"You can fuck on a date." She runs her hands up and down your sides. "Actually, I insist on it..."

"You're the kind of girl who fucks on the first date?"

Summer stops stroking your sides.

"That's kinda slutty," you warn her.

She tries to pout, but can't stop grinning. So she pinches your cheek. "You little bitch. You're not supposed to be the one who teases me."

"Maybe you -- could use some teasing sometimes," you say, although you don't manage the same brashness as that first tease, which so reflexively and unexpectedly tumbled from your mouth.

She turns her head to the side and lays with her cheek against your chest. She runs her fingers exploringly over your clavicle. She seems interested in how well-defined it is -- a side effect of low body mass. You idly pet her hair. It's almost hot to the touch, still retaining the rays it absorbed from the California sun long after having come into this climate-controlled store. You feel butterflies deep in your stomach, which you attribute to the danger of being caught. But this is more, more than when you first had sex in a similarly compromising place, and more than the other times you've been together.

"How long --" you begin. "Before there's... people..."

"Oh, you suddenly care if people see?" Summer says.

"I don't want to go to jail."

She takes one of your hands, lacing her fingers through yours, curling her palm against your own. "It depends on your sister's setlist, doesn't it? Half an hour maybe... maybe less... you better not wait if you're suddenly all shy..."

>>4799547
hnnnnnng

>>4799547
Cuuute

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You wish you could be fully present in this moment, as Summer kisses you again -- a big, wet, open kiss that isn't fully centered, so that her bottom teeth nick your jaw. But you feel like you should tell her.

"Uh... this is gonna be kind of a bummer-- you know, mood killer type stuff..."

She stops, rolls her eyes up to look at you. "What's up? Period?"

"No... uh. Your dad. He's outside right now. Talking to your mom."

You'd stopped appreciating the niceness of it, but Summer's been writhing on top of you the whole time, her fleshy body almost undulating as she makes out with you. Now she goes very still.

"...Sorry..." you tell her.

"It's fine. I know. He stopped me on my way in." Summer claims it's fine, but her voice is sullen, dispirited. She sighs. "Winter is coming."

"Who's Winter?"

"My little sister. Such a total pain in my heinie."

"You never told me about her."

"I did. You forgot."

Great job, Wesley -- you're such a pro at making awkward moments awkwarder.

"She was 6 the last time I saw her," Summer says. "Maybe she's not such an annoying little you-know-what these days."

"Here's hoping, right?" You clear your throat. "Is your dad gonna be okay? ... are you?"

Summer shrugs. "Dunno. On both counts. Hey... if I die tonight, you better make sure I die well-fucked."

She kisses you even harder, and starts writhing on you again.

>>4799555
oh god oh fuck

>>4799547
I sure do love our Wholesome Lesbians!

>>4799555
Strong S4 vibes from Summer at the end there....

>>4799555
>Hey... if I die tonight, you better make sure I die well-fucked.
Goddamnit Summer, don't jinx yourself!

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iokgq4I0OM8

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>>4799577

>>4799577
wew

>>4799505
>It accentuates an already impressive ZR -- you can't help staring at her thighs, the way her stockings bite into them.
Wes has good taste.

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https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewd-wes5

>>4799827
Let's gooooo

>>4799547
That image plus the fluff is enough to give me a toothache.

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>>4799827
anbribaboo...

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>>4799827
nuoh my god

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>>4799827
YES

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You and Summer, with some effort, find your clothes and get dressed. Amber prefers to stay naked for a little longer. Her funeral, then, because Auburn finds his way into the store, too. Carrying his bass with him, he stumbles upon the three of you as you round a corner coming into one of the store's main thoroughfares.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" Amber says. Then, glancing down at herself, realizing her compromised position, she startles. "...Fuck," she mutters.

"I wanted to talk," Auburn says. His tone conveys obvious ill intent.

Amber takes a step back. "You stay away," she warns, pointing.

"You bruised me pretty nicely," he says. He takes a step forward. Amber takes a step back. Auburn smiles. It's not a nice smile. "What's wrong, Amb? You're looking pretty vulnerable right now, you know?"

"Should we call someone?" Summer whispers.

"No," you whisper back. "This is normal."

"This is normal?" She breathes.

Amber's still pointing at him. "Stay back. I'm warning you. I'll scream."

"Scream, then."

Amber's face twitches.

"I'm not mad. You're acting like you think I'm mad." Auburn begins a steady, unrelenting advance, forcing Amber to stumble further and further back. "I just think that president and vice president should share the pain -- equally -- you know?"

"Auburn--"

He lunges, and breaks into a full-bore jog. Amber, wheeling, screaming, runs away, bare feet pattering hard on the slick concrete. You hear the scuffle in a neighboring aisle when he finally catches up with her. It seems to be going poorly for both.

"If Auburn's in here, doesn't that mean the concert's over?" Summer says. "It can't be long before the doors open."

"Then the fight has to end pretty soon," you say. "Lucky news for..."

You listen. You hear insensate screaming and banging and thwacking and clattering.

"Lucky news for them both, I guess," you finish.

"You're sure this is normal?" Summer says.

"Ehhh... normal for them."

She trusts you at your word. Shrugging, you and she leave the store.

>>4799827
Can't wait to see how Liz will spin half of her brand new inventory smelling like sex and with suspicious stains.
>More rimming
Nice~

>>4799908
Kick his ass!

>>4799908
Hearty chuckle

>>4799908
Auburn and Amber are the eternal match made in hell

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"Great stuff tonight, honey!" Aunt Whitney is telling Ophie as she helps her daughter dismantle the concert gear with the rest of the band.

"Mm," Ophie says.

Man. She gets so much across with that stupid "mm" of hers. This one conveys mild frustration that Aunt Whitney is even here, mixed with bashful gladness at the praise, and appreciation for the help.

Liz, meanwhile, is giving a short spiel to the assembled crowd. She holds a mic and gestures theatrically. When she speaks publicly, it seems she affects a mock southern drawl, albeit just a hint of one. "I hope you liked the music! And the food! And I especially hope that when y'all get inside my new store, you like the furniture! We've got some special deals that are tonight-only, so ask our associates for details. 50% off sofas and loveseats, 75% off beds -- and more! Just ask!" She nods at some frocked workers, who start filtering into the store in advance of the customers.

A lot of the people out here are already beginning to leave -- here only for the free food and music and hubbub -- but Liz isn't fazed. "I want y'all to know what it means to me that you came here tonight. I see a lot of families! Denali Furniture & Flooring is a family business. We serve families, and we're run by a family. I'm here with my daughter--" she motions for Summer to step up next to her, and Summer obliges. Liz hugs her around the waist. The crowd d'awwws. "--and also, my daughter's girlfriend! Ain't that sweet?"

She motions for you now. Your jaw hangs open. Liz nods encouragingly. With all eyes on you, you can't say no -- and so you join Liz, too, standing on her other side. She hugs you the way she hugs her daughter. She smells like peppermint. Getting the crook of her elbow around your neck, leaning across you to croon into the mic she's clutching, she says: "How would you feel about being a Denali, dear?" -- then she shoves the mic to your lips.

"Uhhhhhhhh," you drawl, your voice sounding like a percolating coffee maker.

Liz laughs. "Too much commitment, huh? Well, you're family anyway!"

Among the raucous laughter you hear that of Aunt Whitney. She's off to the side, still by the tent, hands on her hips. "Fuck yeah, Wes!" She cheers. "Get that Denali dosh."

Talia's expression as she watches is more muted.

Dying for anything to divert your focus, your searching eyes scan the parking lot. You find, across the street, in the grassy knoll of Hoover Park -- leaning against a tree -- the shadowed figure of Gideon Denali watching on. His expression is even more inscrutable than Talia's. He lights a cigarette, pulls his overcoat's collar tight against himself, and walks off down the sidewalk.

More distressingly, you find your parents. N-Mom is parked at the curb, sitting on the hood of her car, face between her hands. K-Mom is laughing like a hyena, shaking N-Mom bodily by the shoulders as if to say "get a load of that, come on, look!" -- jumping, literally spinning in circles, like she hit the lottery.

>>4799977
ahahahahaha

Ohhhhhhh man.

>>4799977
>He lights a cigarette, pulls his overcoat's collar tight against himself, and walks off down the sidewalk.

FEAR

But also,
>N-Mom is parked at the curb, sitting on the hood of her car, face between her hands. K-Mom is laughing like a hyena
Top fucking kek. How much was this bet even worth??

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All right, with the slowness of the thread and the board in general, I feel fine leaving it here for the week. I will be back -- in this thread -- for the rest of the episode next Saturday at the usual time.

>>4799988
Thanks for the work OP!

>>4799988
Good shit, OP. See you then!

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>>4799986
See image.

>>4799988
Thanks as always, OP-sama! See ya then!

>>4799977
Today's result: Kay's Victory

Also tried searching Denali, but why did it bring up a mountain in Alaska?

>>4799988
Thanks OP. And see ya on the next one!

>>4800003
I assume it's the flower rather than a mountain peak, but I'm sure it could be either.

>>4799988
Always happy to catch this love, maybe next time I can even vote!
Take care OP, love what you do.

Also, ever consider 'advertising' in other places for people who might have no idea FQ is back at all?

>>4800014
FQ has been effectively persona non grata on every other board since the original /a/ exodus. Quests being kicked from /tg/ afterwards hasn't helped at all - there's really no advertising that can be done. And sadly, mentioning it in /qtg/ seems to increase our odds of being deleted for one arbitrary reason or another, so it's best to stay away from there.

>>4799977
Based moms lol

>>4799988
Have a great week OP, thanks for everything!

>>4800032
That all makes sense, wouldn't want to draw bad attention to it. I was just so happy when I found out.

>>4799988
Pleasure as always, OP. Thanks for the run.

>>4799988
I'd try to be present during storytime more, but 3am in britbong time makes that pretty much impossible

>>4799977

Aww Ophie

Lads, feed me your Gideon rrats.

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>>4802500
>Tyrone's old gang is back for revenge and Gideon was hired to run interference
>Gideon was hired by Darkbloom for one last job to take down Darkbloom's rivals in a corporate war to KEEP THAT FUCKING SCION CHILD AWAY FROM HIS GRAND DAUGHTER
>Gideon is a virtual youtuber who has bought into the keyfabe too hard and is throwing away his real self to become his character
>Gideon is a chuunibyou who's pretending the mafia is after him

>>4802500
>Gideon has come back from a long-term job where he was working with/for Olivia
>The job is related the fuckery between 421-422
>Gideon's pursuers are the members of the dreaded hotel mafia who are finally fed up with his shit

>>4802534
>Gideon is a chuunibyou who's pretending the mafia is after him
Turks out it's just unpaid parking tickets or something.

>>4802500
>Gideon's gonna assassinate a potential, soon-to-be POTUS Cerise.

>>4802500
>Gideon is just some guy Liz hired as a marketing stunt for her store

Just realised a lot of you lads probably never saw what Whitney tweeted back in January

https://twitter.com/realWhitneyDB

>>4802500
Have a feeling Stasi's involved with him somehow

unless she just up and died in Afghanistan or w/e

>>4807291
Oh that's great

>>4802500
>The surviving Kerimovs figured out what Darkbloom did and want payback
> Chloe has hired Gideon to run corporate espionage/sabotage ops on both DBA and Absalom.

>>4802534
>>4802666
>>4802995
>>4804349
>>4807305
>>4807439
Ogey, thank you all for your contributions.

Now how does Winter fit into all of these?

>>4807526
Chuuni. Olivia's apprentice.
>>4799827
I've been meaning to reread and write up but I just can't find the juice.
I have to point this out though, it's nice to see Wesley enjoying herself. She gives me more hope than Ally did around her age.

Additionally
>Friday
Are the noodle still flying at the Mallory household? And who hosts DFDS?
>>4807291
Based Whitney.

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>>4808187
>I've been meaning to reread and write up but I just can't find the juice.

Curious what you mean by this! Not sure is meant to be taken as compliment or criticism. Either way, agreed that Wes cutting loose is nice to write.

Personality wise, she does better than her father in some areas and has more issues in others. My goal with her character is to make her feel like she's definitely Alabaster's offspring without making her simply Rule 63 Baster.

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>>4808951
>>4808187
oh, and as for Mallory spaghetti Friday: still a thing.

DFDS: also still a thing. The Soliloquy children have all carried the tradition on, with varying results (Alabaster: resounding success -- Cerise: she usually doesn't burn the instant brownie mix -- Rose2: at least she tries.)

>>4808955
Have any of Ally's kids taken up the mantle of continuing the traditions?

>>4808955
>Rose2
I admit I'm looking forward to seeing how she's doing.

>>4808951
Nothing good or bad, just a personal practice. There's a tendency to miss things when you're reading early/late in the day and it's exciting to participate so I find it easier to go back through during the week and look for interesting bits.
Despite her ineptitude, I'm glad to see Wesley can enjoy her life. Makes a lot of the old decisions feel worthwhile. You are doing a fine job in your goal so far.

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Ophie is just helping Aunt Whitney load the last couple amps into Talia's van. Okay. "Helping" is a bit of a misnomer. Ophie has her hands on the amp at the same time as Aunt Whitney. But you get the sense that Aunt Whitney is doing the actual lifting here. When the amp is sitting firmly on the floor of the van, Talia, standing inside, drags it a bit closer to the rest of the equipment and drapes it all with a rough felt tarp.

"Where is Auburn?" Talia asks, poking her head out.

You glance towards the store where even now dozens of people are filtering in. "Dunno," you finally drawl.

"Who cares about that dork?" Aunt Whitney says. "Ophie, baby, you need a better bassist. That kid draws hecklers."

"Heckler," Ophie says.

"Whatever!"

Will, folding his arms, leans against the side of the van. "Either way, he owes me. I gave him my cut of the profit to get him to play here tonight."

"What a gyp," Aunt Whitney says. "Will, don't worry about the cash. I'll redisperse you."

"You don't have to re-endorse me," he tells her. "He'll pay me back. I'll make sure of it."

Ophie glances all around. Finally she asks: "Wesley, have you seen Noah? He was here a little while ago. I thought you were talking to him."

Unwilling to break her heart, you can only shrug. "Dunno..." you mumble. But when Ophie sets off as if to begin a vain search of the emptying parking lot, you have to waylay her. "I lied," you admit. Ophie gives you a confused head tilt. Cringing, you elaborate: "He was here, but then he... kind of... left."

"I see," Ophie says. But she doesn't seem heartbroken at all. Just interested: "did he enjoy the show?"

Oh yeah. He had a message to relay, didn't he. "He told me to tell you--" (you ape his whispy, wistful sounding tone) "--her music is lovely."

The corners of Ophie's mouth turn up by about 1°, which is a lot.

Ophie's mother jabs her in the ribs with an elbow. "Huh?" Aunt Whitney says. "Huh? What'd I tell you. Huh?"

Make that 2°. A banner day for Ophie's facial muscles.

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>>4812976
>The corners of Ophie's mouth turn up by about 1°, which is a lot.
Cuute
>Make that 2°. A banner day for Ophie's facial muscles.
Cuuuuuute

Alright lads, place your bets. Who's getting checked off next?

https://www.strawpoll.me/45278155

Let's goooooo!

>>4812976
I'm glad to see the Whitney-Will Brain Trust back in action.
And Ophie is too cute.
>>4812982
>https://www.strawpoll.me/45278155
Much as I might be interested in Noelle, I think Talia is hitting a breaking point. And breaking a Jew is a hate crime.

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Summer is doing up a frock and tying it off behind her back. Her mother must have Shanghaied her into working the registers at the grand opening. You hope it doesn't become a permanent thing -- that could get in the way of her Shake 'em Up gig. One frock job is fine, but two frock jobs is a lot to manage.

"You gonna be ok, babe?" Summer asks. You nod. She smiles. "Let's meet up at work tomorrow, huh? After my shift."

You know what she wants to meet up for. God, this girl is completely impossible to sate. You'd have assumed that after losing half her body mass in water out of her coochie five minutes ago, she'd be thinking about something else for the time being. Nope.

As she retreats back into the store, Liz pulls alongside you. "'Babe', huh? She really likes you."

"Ms. Denali!"

Liz turns to find K-Mom practically running up, breathless and elated. "Uh," Liz mutters.

K-Mom goes a mile a minute. "I'm Kay. Wesley's mother. I just want to say that I am such a fan. Your commercials are the best thing on television right now!" She foists a handshake on Liz, which Liz, befuddled and maybe a bit scared, listlessly allows, but doesn't return. Her hand flops around inside K-Mom's. "And it was such a beautiful gesture that you made just now. Saying how Wes is like family to you and all. Summer is like family to us, too! Isn't their romance just so cute?"

"Y-- uh, yes," Liz says, wresting her hand free. "And... it's good publicity. Free publicity."

"Mom..." you plead, blushing.

N-Mom brings up the rear. K-Mom puts an arm around her. "This is my wife. Noelle. She's the shy one. But she's just so delighted about the whole thing, too." K-Mom squeezes N-Mom's shoulder -- aggressively -- and through gritted teeth appends: "aren't you, bun."

"You know it, Kaytlin," N-Mom says, through equally gritted teeth.

Liz slowly nods, arches her eyebrows and lets her jaw hang slack in that universal nonverbal expression of, "this situation has gotten weird all of a sudden and I really should extricate myself from it as soon as possible." Clasping her hands together and just slightly bowing, she says, "I'm tied-up at the moment. You know? If you want to come browse the store, we've got some great deals! Hope to talk to you ladies again sometime..."

"Oh, we're definitely going to buy some furniture here tonight," K-Mom says. "Loads!"

"God help me," N-Mom mutters.

"We'll do lunch," K-Mom tells Liz.

"--We will?" Liz says. Then, realizing herself, she returns what you take for an empty promise: "We will."

>>4812993
Kay's taste is terrifically bad, and I appreciate that we're on the same wavelength.

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When Liz departs, your mothers get into a heated yet quietly whispered argument you can't discern. Will is over by the remnants of the buffet table, and you figure he's probably better company.

"Those shrimp tartlets have been out for a couple hours..." you warn him.

"They're fine, probably," he says, and pops one into his mouth. He chews only a couple times. Then, swallowing with obvious difficulty, he makes a disgusted face and says, "--how many hours?" When you meet him with dead silence, he moves on as if everything is fine. He takes a swig of warmed-over fruit punch, points at you and says, "homecoming's soon. You ready?"

You shrug.

"Great!" He says. "I--"

A horn sounds on the distance. That would be Will's mom coming to pick him up. Hopefully she didn't drive here drunk. Will glances back to verify it's her. Then, without warning, he grabs you by the arms and tugs you a step closer to him so that you're in his personal space. Your shoes scuff the pavement. "Kiss me?" He says.

"K-- kiss?" You stammer.

He tilts his head forward, desperate for a quick answer. When, not knowing what else to do, you nod, he lunges forward and kisses you. You're so taken aback that you just stand there. And then, despite yourself, you return it.

Will is a good kisser. It can't be disputed. He's firm but gentle at the same time, and can put passion into it without making it lewd. This is all for show, but you go half limp in his embrace anyway, and catch yourself rubbing a knee against the outside of his leg. You whimper a little. When he pulls back, maybe less than five seconds later, you can feel that your eyes have gotten dewy.

"Thanks," he says, like you just gave him the answer to question 11.

"Your... breath tastes a bit like fish," you tell him, the first thing to pop into your head.

"Really?" He says. He thinks about that. Then: "yours too. Kinda." He smacks his lips, considering this new mystery -- trying to place the flavor. When his mom sounds the horn again, he shrugs off the whole train of thought. "Anyway -- see ya!"

You watch him run off. From the opposite direction, near the store's from entrance, K-Mom shrieks in rage, her voice muffled by distance: "Oh, for fuck's sake!!!"

>>4813015
>trying to place the flavor
Ooof.

>>4813015
oh god

>>4813015
I love every single development in this post. Each line makes the entire affair funnier than the last.

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You go to Shake 'Em Up the next afternoon. Summer works first shift on weekends so she can get out in time for Saturday cheer practice in the evening. How she maintains such a jam-packed schedule without going insane is beyond you.

She does that four-fingered waggle-wave when the door chimes and she sees you entering. "Wes! Take a seat and sit tight, ok?"

You take a seat and sit tight.

"I'm gonna be getting off real soon," Summer tells you with a broad grin.

"Is that a double entendre?" You say with an equally broad grin.

But Summer just furrows her brow. "...that thing with Russia we learned about last week in world history?"

You frown. "That's the Triple Entente."

"Oh. What's the double entente, then? Austria-Hungary?"

"Nevermind. Just go finish your shift."

Summer gives you a mock salute.

In the lull, you have some time to think about how strange it is to be in a relationship -- to be dating. To be dating Summer. You haven't dated anyone before, nevermind a girl, and nevermind a girl as... uh, unique... as Summer. You don't know the rules, the etiquette and rituals. What does that mean? To be dating. Last night at the furniture store, you didn't do anything you wouldn't have done if Summer hadn't declared it by fiat to be a date. So what is the implication of calling it one? Does dating mean simply that you don't see other people? (Not that there's any risk of that, with you...)

Then again, Summer was fine with having a three-way with Amber. Do siblings not count in this equation? Would it be different if you slept with someone else? Someone like, say--

Amelia comes out of the utility room behind the service counter. The swiftness of her exit catches your attention from across the diner. Her apron is a little rumpled and her nametag is askew. Her face is flushed and her hair is frizzed. She draws some deep, bracing breaths through lips curled into an O.

A few moments later, another surprise. Alex comes out of the same room. He's in his Saturday cazzie, as he calls it (eugh), shorts and a tee and sandals, but he seems a bit pained -- stepping gingerly.

"Did we pass inspection?" Ophie asks, her attention peeled on the ketchup bottles she's marrying over by the cut-out window between diner and kitchen.

"Oh yes," Alex says. He leans against the counter to steady himself. "I'll -- let Whitney know that Store #1 is still... well... store #1. It's the gold standard for Shake 'Em Up's national brand." He pauses to get his breath again. "Amelia... runs a tight ship."

"You know me," Amelia says. "I like a tight ship..."

Alex startles. Did Amelia slap his ass just now, under the counter? You were only half paying attention. But that would be weird, right? Maybe you're just imagining things.

>>4813041
oh my GOD

>>4813041
>Amelia
>Alex
Oh man...

>>4813041
Yooooo

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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As Alex walks from the store, limping a little, Amelia sees you. She approaches wearing a warm smile, and her face is still flushed. "Wes. What a pleasant surprise." Her eyes scan the tabletop. She finds it bare. "Has no one seen you yet?"

"Kind of? I don't really--"

Amelia tsks. "I need to have another talk with first shift about seeing customers right away. This is totally unacceptable... Mello Yello, right?"

"Right."

"Anything else, honey?"

"Were you cleaning back there?" You ask.

Amelia blinks.

"Smells like bleach..." you explain.

"Oh. Yeah. I was, uh... showing Alex how we manage inventory for cleaning supplies. Do you want some ice cream, too, honey?"

"Makes sense," you say. "About the inventory thing. Alex is pretty..." You gaze at the Cadillac sticking out of the wall. "Persnickety. We'll go with persnickety." (Clean freak is more like it, you think.)

Amelia giggles. "Of course. He just hates when things get messy. ... Do you want some cake, honey?"

"No thanks. Just the drink. Could you stop calling me honey?"

Rather than scurrying back to the kitchen to get the drink, though, Amelia sits down. Right next to you, at the booth. You, unable to fend her off, can only scoot to the side to make way for her. She's got a fat ass and takes up a lot of real estate sitting beside you, so you feel somewhat pinned: the paneled wall to your left, Amelia's thick body to your right. As if to accentuate that feeling of being pinned, Amelia rests her arm along the top of the booth's backrest and turns in place to face you from the side. It's claustrophobic. She really smells a lot like bleach.

"...Amelia...?" you say. You stare madly down at the formica.

"You never told me about it. And Summer is so tight-lipped..."

"T-told you what?"

"You know. ...It. How did it go?" She lets a hand drift down and lightly strokes your pantleg. "The other day, I mean. You said you would tell me all about it."

You gulp. "It was... okay, I guess?"

"Oh Wes," Amelia says apologetically. "Sex should be more than okay! You're supposed to enjoy it. Was she too rough with you after all? I can kick her butt for you."

"N-no -- no! It was more than okay. I'm just..." you cough. "We're, like, a thing now. Girlfriends?"

Amelia gasps. "That's so nice! So you must have really had a lot of fun, huh..." She's still stroking your leg. "So you were okay with her being rough?" She scooches somehow even closer, holds her body to your own. Her breasts, straining in her over-tight uniform, press against your cheek.

"No roughness. She... was a virgin." You wouldn't dish details like these to just anyone, but you're terrified of what will happen if you lie and Amelia finds out. "I had to show her. You know. Stuff."

Amelia's eyes sparkle so much you'd think they were replaced by stars. "You? Had to show -- her? Wesley Lynn! Was Summer not your first time?"

You shake your head, but even with Amelia, you can't bear to tell her everything about that.

>>4813071
Oh my god OP you're going to kill me

>"No thanks. Just the drink. Could you stop calling me honey?"
Wes, could you stop being so gay and just let this woman flirt with you already?

>>4813071
>Bleach

huh?

>>4813041
Oh man, I know what this means and I am fully on board.

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Amelia's arm on top of the backrest drifts steadily down, until it wraps around you -- it feels rather like being gripped by a tentacle. She hugs you even tighter to her. "I want to hear everything. I want to hear about... what happened when you got to the locker room with her... the stuff you had to show her."

She's definitely coming on to you, right? You're not crazy? Her switch has been totally flipped here.

Amelia swipes some of your hair from your face. Then wiggling, she takes your wrist and sets it against her rather prodigious thigh. She shifts her weight a bit, and carries on as if she was only getting more comfortable. But you're so aware of your hand resting lightly on her leg that it may as well be glowing red with radioactivity and humming the Sammarinese anthem. And her hand may as well be glowing green with gamma rays itself and belting out the lyrics of the Hymne Monégasque with how focused you are on its lazy motions up and down, up and down, up and down your inner leg... each upward swipe drawing her fingers ever closer to the apex of that V formed by your legs... her breath is like a blowdryer on its lowest setting against your ear, and she practically nestles her nose in your hair as she says, "come on, honey... details... don't keep me waiting."

She spreads her knees just an inch or two wider. It's enough. Your eyes bulge as your hand, on her leg, suddenly comes against something that isn't the soft smooth expanse of her thigh meat. But no-- something in her pocket?-- that's it. You gulp, and--

Lily comes walking by. Of all people you expected to see, she was low on the list, and even lower on the list of people you wanted to. Even in a situation so compromising. She notices you sitting there pinned by Amelia, and does an actual-for-real double take. Then shrugging, she swoops into the booth, seating herself across from the two of you.

Amelia peels herself off of you with almost inhuman speed and straightens her posture. Your hand falls away from her leg. Lily nods at her. "Diet coke, please. No ice."

"...Sure," Amelia says, stands, pulls a strand of hair behind her ear, smooths her uniform, and goes.

>>4813089
You are TOYING with us, OP, and my heart can't take it.

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>>4813089
I NEED AN ADULT

SPECIFICALLY, AMELIA. I NEED AMELIA

>>4813089
OH my GOD

>>4813089
Dutch wife fucking you back when?

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"Gotta love the service here," Lily says. "They put the personal touch on it. Never been in a restaurant where the waitresses sit next to you." She turns in place, poking her head up like a prairie dog to see, and stares somewhat lasciviously at Amelia's receding backside. "Damn. So fucking fat. Wouldn't mind letting her sitting next to me."

"Yes you would..." you breathe.

But if Lily noticed anything strange about the interaction between you and Amelia, she isn't letting on. She faces you again and stares back at you with big, bright eyes.

"Why are you here?" You ask. "Why'd you sit here with me?"

"What the fuck?" Lily says. "Oh, I see. Just because I'm black, that means I can't sit with the white girl?"

"That's not -- you didn't -- I'm only half white!!"

"Didn't know this place was going really all-in on the 1950s vibe. Jesus."

"That is not what I mean, and you know it."

"No, I get you. Racism is alive and well in the USA. I shouldn't have expected anything less from a fucking hapa like you."

You sigh, deeply, through your nose.

"Call this a business lunch," Lily says. She does this thing when she speaks where she props an elbow on the table and occasionally flicks her wrist, making a hand gesture like aiming a finger gun at the ceiling, with the other three digits of her hand limply curling inward towards her palm. "I want to make nice after what happened the other day in practice." You lean back and fold your arms, waiting to hear what Lily's rendition of the events is. She continues: "I'm not mad at you for having prior commitments. Shit, I'm happy for you. If you really were telling the truth, that means you've got friends, and you could use some. What I'm mad about is how you hopped into our game when you damn well knew you were gonna have to DC not ten and a half minutes later."

"The match was over," you tell her. "They had half our control points and possession of the oddball. Not to mention we'd already lost north-center lane."

"And whose fault is that?" Lily says.

"You! You had north-center lane!"

"I'm not here to pin blame on someone. That's not the point."

"You literally just asked whose fault it was!"

"This is about a pattern of behavior. Last night, it was the same shit again in our 1-on-1. You left right as shit got dire. Fucking stick with it if you commit to something like that. Bint."

"I'm not a bint, you fucking tart!"

"Trollop!" Lily shouts.

"Bell-end!"

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Lily calms herself. She puts both palms flat against the tabletop and leans in. "The point is that if you DC in a match, the entire team loses more prestige than they would have. You trying to get me trapped in Elo hell or what?"

"That's a myth," you say. "Never proven. And Elo hell is only a hell for people who aren't good. So if you get trapped in there, then great. You belong there."

Lily's eye twitches, but she shows uncommon restraint, and declines to escalate the argument. "Fuck, Wes. This is an olive branch here. You know that saying, 'save the drama for your mama'? Well I don't have a mama. So I can't with the drama. Just can't."

"You have a mother," you tell her.

"No I don't," Lily says.

"Yes. You do. You just don't know her, that's all."

"Will you listen to me when I tell you something, you slag? I literally do not have a mother. Genetic engineering. Get it? Dad used this procedure where they took his semen and inseminated Marquis, like, anally. They turned one of Marquis's sperms into an egg."

"You -- you... noooo," you drawl. "No."

"Yes."

"That's a -- that's a lie. I'm pretty sure."

"I'm a butt baby," Lily tells you, with the unflinching seriousness of someone admitting to having a terminal illness. She stares you dead in the eye.

You try to gauge any hint of sarcasm or wryness in her voice and body language. You find none. You squint at her, waiting for the reveal -- for the moment she breaks into laughter and mocks you for even thinking what she said could be true. It doesn't come. She stares gravely back at you, giving you nothing to salve the awkwardness that she herself created.

You decide to roll with it, if that's how she wants to be. "Well then, maybe that's what makes you such a bitch," you tell her. "You're the product of two bitchy dads."

"Or maybe you're just stupid on account of having two dumbass moms. You know, studies show that children raised by lesbian parents are twice as likely to become serial arsonists? And over 130% more prone to a dietary deficiency of riboflavin. That's a true fact."

"So... what? You're gonna be a shitty mom one day, is that what you're saying?"

"I'm not gonna BE a mom, period," Lily says, laughing. "God. Having kids? Who the fuck is dumb enough to do that?"

>>4813165
>You try to gauge any hint of sarcasm or wryness in her voice and body language. You find none. You squint at her, waiting for the reveal -- for the moment she breaks into laughter and mocks you for even thinking what she said could be true. It doesn't come.
Me trying to work out if this is an actual canon thing to the FQ universe now or if OP is fucking with us

>>4813165
>"The Gang Gets Lily Pregnant"

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Shit. I just realized I've been posting anonymously, not that it makes too much of a difference. (I made an anonymous post a few moments before beginning the run to make sure the ° symbol works on /qst/, since I've been burned on special ascii characters here before)

>>4813165
I must reiterate: oh my *god*

>>4813172
Oh, so THAT'S why I wasn't getting notifications for your posts

>>4813172
Only noticed it when you deleted the recent story post too. No biggie thanks to post ID.

>>4813165
>Genetic engineering. Get it? Dad used this procedure where they took his semen and inseminated Marquis, like, anally. They turned one of Marquis's sperms into an egg.
Ok Lily, Summer is officially smarter than you.