Jules spared a look at his erstwhile leader who, currently, was hiding behind him, bountiful breasts squashing into the lackey’s back. One delicate hand was raised above Jules’s shoulder in a cute wave, and the other was gradually curling its way across his waist like an affectionate, vine-clad python.
Desperately, he tried to put the smooth softness out of his head and think of an excuse. “Y-yeah, Dad, we were just gonna—!” Rob tightened his grip, an extremely contented hum escaping his lips. “G-get out of here.”
“Aw, but Juulee,” whined the currently-bodacious figure. “I thought we could stay *in* tonight...” A red-tipped finger traced a circle on his back and Jule’s breath caught in his throat. What the fuck was Rob doing?
His dad looked from his son to the girl practically hanging off of him, and back to his son again. Paternal instincts long-unused started to stir and, after heaving a heavy sigh that stunk of booze, he started to lope to their little nook of a TV room.
“Think I’ll watch the afterschhow now,” he called over his shoulder, throwing in a bloodshot wink for good measure. “Earsh ain’t workin’ sho good, so gonna have to turn the knob real high.”
Rob giggled — giggled! — as the plywood door slammed shut behind his dad. As promised, the muffled static pop of the CRT turning on slunk out through the doorjamb, the sports-network noises that followed loud enough to shake the trailer.
“Let’s get some food in you before the happy ending!” chirped Rob, sauntering over to the small table after snagging the McFly’s bag. Jules stared at the swaying denim bulges, mind racing. This… wasn’t Rob. Fuck, this wasn’t anyone he knew, this was a wet dream on two long legs! What did dad call her? Bobbi?
“C’mon, siddown!” The redhead tapped the fraying upholstery of the dinner table’s bench, half a greasy cheeseburger in her other hand. “We can share!”
Jules complied, awkwardly sidling into the squeaky seat and next to the jubilant bombshell. Yup. This felt real. Bobbi looked real. Best not to question it. Getting chewed out in his bedroom was just some kinda psychotic break. Mhm.
As he questioned his reality, Bobbi stretched her arms and let out a cute squeak of a yawn, stretching her long legs out and over his lap, trapping him and his now-raging erection. Jules swallowed as she scooted closer and closer, until she was near enough to feel the voluminous flesh underneath her jean shorts. “Say aah~” cooed Bobbi, waggling half of the greasy sandwich in front of him.
Fuckit. He’d rough up some geek for Xanax tomorrow. Jules opened his mouth and closed his eyes, not noticing his potential’s girlfriend’s eyes gain a familiar, glittering sheen.
Bobbi let out a strangled squeak, and still, no meat entered Jules’s mouth. “Whassamatter?” he mumbled, opening his eyes just to see the fast-food flying toward his face at supersonic speeds.
McFly’s secret sauce splattered over the bully’s face as the girl scrambled out of the confines of the dinner table, accidentally slamming a heel against ‘Lil’ Jules’ in the escape.
“JESUS FUCK WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK,” babbled what was now becoming increasingly obvious was Rob, though Jules was too preoccupied with the intense, burning pain to respond
Rob held his hands out in front of him, flexing each delicate digit individually. That… wasn’t him. He didn’t feed his flunkies fucking hamburgers, and he sure as hell didn’t practically sit in their goddamn laps, making moon eyes at their stupid retard faces!
But, bereft of anyone to really blame besides himself, Rob shifted his rage towards his usual target, who was currently recovering from his dick-kick.
“You.” hissed Rob, trying his very best (and failing) to not sound remotely sensual. Jules, both hands on the table in an attempt to recover, looked up at the babe charging towards him like a CoverGirl rhinoceros.
Once again, his face was ensconced in the small hand, red nails digging painfully into his cheeks. “Tell me what you fucking did, J,” growled Rob, hot minty breath gusting against Jules’s face. “What kinda faggy MKUltra bullshit did you fucking pull?”
“Wha…?” managed Jules, his eyes momentarily dipping down to the valley of flesh right in front of him. In response, Rob let out a quite unmanly screech and released his face, scooting backward with an arm across his prodigious chest.
“That. Right fucking there! Turn me into some Ingerbitch knockoff and fucking incept me into some fucking bimbo, you piece of shit? I never shoulda let you in the gang!” Jules watched the redhead rage with a familiar dread mounting in his stomach, memories of disciplinary beatings disconcertingly close.
With a tiny fist raised in the air and a contralto yawp, Rob jiggled towards the flinching Jules, who…
Option 1: Jules, with his hands held up to his head, yells “Stop!” at the raging Rob who… listens, for some weird reason?
Option 2: Because he’s able to fend off the much-weaker Rob’s attacks, Jules explains to the furious flame-haired female what happened — with a bit of editorialization — in the bathroom stalls.