The A.V. Club Ch. 10

A Novel by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

Chapter Ten: Bowling for Dickgirls

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. Everything in this story is imaginary and is not meant to represent any real-life people, events, or medical conditions. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, or if reading this type of material is unlawful where you reside, don't read it. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older, even if it seems otherwise for dramatic or narrative purposes. Please enjoy this story responsibly and do not repost without permission. This story is copyright©2016 J.K. Ermon.

~~~

Study hall Monday morning, all five of us were in the school library. Jack and Donnie were reading a couple of paperbacks from the spinning wire racks. Jack had a Fritz Leiber and Donnie a Harlan Ellison. The rest of us had coursework strewn over the round study table.

Mark put down his slide rule and in a low voice, asked, "Hey, who's that?"

I craned my neck to follow his gaze. There was a petite brunette girl sitting a few tables over. She had her nose in an ancient geography tome that looked bigger than she was.

"Marjorie something," Donnie said. "New transfer this semester. Senior."

"Thought so," Mark said. "Perfect." He took off his fake glasses and laid them on the table. "Wish me luck." He got to his feet.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Call it an experiment," he said, and walked over to the girl's table. He sank into the chair next to her and said something we couldn't catch. She looked up. Her eyes flicked up and down, taking him in. They widened slightly. She gave him a shy smile and shifted slightly towards him in her chair. He said something else and her smile grew wider.

"What is he doing?" Jack sounded both curious and alarmed.

"I don't know," I said. I looked around. The library was quiet, no threats in sight. I looked back. It was bizarre. Marjorie actually seemed to be responding to him in a positive way.

Mark's usual approach to girls was to get all theatrical and pour on the smarm and cheesy pick-up lines. He wasn't doing that now. He was attentive, but not dramatic at all.

Marjorie Something had forgotten all about her geography textbook. Mark had her full attention. He was sitting in a relaxed posture with his arm up on the chair back. He wasn't projecting the same level of virile attraction that Allen had, but a strong hint of it was certainly there. Miss Something was intrigued.

He was out of earshot, so I don't know what he said, but she suddenly laughed loudly enough to attract an irritable "Shh!" from Mrs. Kennicutt, the school Librarian.

They hushed and chatted quietly back and forth for a few minutes. They were smiling, and occasionally she'd stifle a giggle. My friends and I tried not to stare too blatantly.

Suddenly Frank whispered, "He's going to ask her out on a date."

I stared at Frank along with the others. "He's what?"

"He's asking her out. Look."

Our heads swiveled back, and sure enough, Mark was speaking with all the elaborate casualness of a very nervous young man popping the question. There was a pause and Marjorie looked down at her textbook for a moment. Her cheeks went pink. Then she looked back at him and shyly nodded. Mark grinned like he might start bouncing on his seat like a happy toddler.

"Holy shit," Jack whispered. "He did it!"

They talked for a little while longer. Mark wrapped it up. She watched him walk away, then went back to her tome with a little smile and a twinkle in her eye that I could see from across the room.

As he sat back down at our table, Mark asked Jack, "Is Thoroughly Modern Millie still playing at the Admiral?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "Seven PM shows all this week."

"Perfect," said Mark. "Can you comp me and Marjorie in tonight?"

"Of course I can," Jack said. "But hang on, what did you just do?"

"That should be obvious," Mark replied, settling back and looking mightily pleased with himself. "I asked Marjorie out."

"But...but..." Donnie looked ready to have conniptions. "She said yes. They never say yes."

"Ah-ha," said Mark, picking up his glasses and pocketing them. "The girls who've known us for years never say yes. Marjorie transferred in two weeks ago. She doesn't have years of prejudice clouding her judgment. This," he said, indicating his vastly improved face like a hostess on The Price is Right showing off a prize, "is her first introduction to the Radakovic charm."

There was a sharp collective intake of breath.

"My man," said Donnie with great respect, "you're a fuckin' genius."

"What about Marianne?" asked Frank, a little pointedly, I noticed.

"She broke up with me last week," said Mark.

"Again?" I asked.

Jack whistled. "That's like the second time this year, and it's not even May."

Mark grimaced and shrugged. This was a recurrent theme in his love life. Marianne Fleischmann would periodically tell him, out of the blue, that she never wanted to see him again. These breaks could last a week to a month. They ended when she decided to call him back.

"I'm done with that," he said. "Before, I was afraid to rock the boat, you know? A bird in the hand, and all that." He shrugged again. "No more. Time to move on."

"Does Marianne know?" asked Frank. "That you're moving on."

It was a surprisingly astute question. We all looked at him, then at Mark.

"Don't know, don't care." Mark shrugged with elaborate casualness. "She broke up with me, remember?"

"Hang on," said Jack. "Were there any other new transfers this semester? Girls, I mean."

"No," I said, recalling the last time I'd been hauled into the office to update the student rolls. "Marjorie's the only one."

"Dammit." Jack sighed. "Doesn't matter anyway. Midterms are coming up. I got tutoring this week."

I winced. "Shit. Who is it?"

"Don't know yet. Someone on the cheer squad."

The others made sympathetic noises. Tutoring was another use to which the faculty put nerds, and perhaps the cruellest one of all. Students of a certain IQ range were volunteered (voluntold, Mark liked to say) to tutor college-bound sports prodigies who were flagging academically. This was also extended to members of the cheer squad. It was an extra credit and sometimes we got to spend time with hot cheerleaders, so in theory it was a good thing.

In reality, they treated us like shit. Both the jocks and the cheerleaders. We were used as unpaid essay-writers and homework-doers. We were expected to provide them with cheat sheets for upcoming tests. We got to deal with all their withering scorn up close. It was emasculating.

"Don't worry about it, Jack," Mark said. "If you get really frustrated, you can always go on a date with Frank."

We pelted him with balls of crumpled-up notepaper.

"Sorry, sorry, ow! Stop it."

"Zip it, Radakovic," Frank said, and the rest of us struggled to supress our laughter. Mrs. Kennicutt was looking our way suspiciously.

~~~

At lunch time, Emily was waiting for me outside the portable. I was so happy to see her again, I had to fight the urge to run into her arms. I did speed up to a fast walk as I approached her.

She was wearing another sack-like button-up sweater, calf-length skirt, and her heavy-framed cat's eye glasses. To me, she looked great. We hugged, and I had to close my eyes. It felt so good to see her and feel her and even smell her again after two days.

We separated, and I noticed Emily was studying me very intently. She said, "You look...different, Bobby."

I touched my face, half-expecting tentacles this time.

"It's not that," she said. "It's more like..."

She put a hand on my shoulder.

"There just seems to be...more to you, somehow. If that makes any sense."

I unlocked the portable and we went inside. I locked it behind us.

Emily considered me for a moment and then said, "It's like you've grown. Over the weekend. Not physically, but..."

She reached up and cupped the side of my face. "You were a deep well when I met you, but now you're suddenly fathoms and fathoms deeper. It's...very attractive. Does that make any sense?"

"A little," I said. "I did reach some kind of...personal milestone yesterday."

"Really?"

Without going into any details about my friends, I explained how my sexuality had enlarged over the weekend.

"Wow," she said. "Well, it makes sense. That's the difference I'm noticing. You're very sexy now."

She bit her lip and colored a little. "I mean, you were sexy before, but now...honestly, Bobby, it's coming out of your pores like strong aftershave." She began unbuttoning my shirt. "What brought that on?"

"You did," I said. I looked down at her busy hands, bemused.

"I did?"

"I can only think it's a side effect of us making love."

"Oh, Bobby, I'm sorry, I didn't know." Her hands stopped.

I laughed. "It's perfectly okay."

"It's a big change in your life. You didn't ask for it."

"It's a great change," I said firmly. "And I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I met you." I bent down and kissed her.

Her hands went back to work. She took off my shirt and her eyes widened at the sight of my new muscles. She ran her hands over my chest and my belly. "Oh my. This is...also new."

"Yup," I said. "And that's not the only change."

"What else?"

"My penis got bigger, too."

"Really?" She looked intrigued. "Well. We'll just have to take a look, won't we?"

She knelt down and unbuckled my belt, opened my pants and pulled down my zipper. The fly of my boxers was unbuttoned, so my penis rushed out through the opening. I had no control over it. It reared up like a king cobra before her face. Emily sat back on her calves and gasped.

"Oh...my...gosh."

It rose to its full height and swayed. Emily stared up at it wide-eyed, like a sci-fi heroine in a movie poster. She took a slow breath. I watched her startlement ease and her curiosity take over. She looked it up and down and craned her neck to peer at it from different angles. She brought her face close to it, closed her eyes and smelled it. Her eyes rolled under their lids.

Gingerly, she touched it with both hands. She measured its length with her fists and squeezed gently. She let out a long breath.

"Oh, Bobby." Her voice was thick with emotion. "It's...magnificent." She laid a soft, reverent kiss upon its stalk.

She took down my boxers and noticed my balls. "These are bigger too." She hefted them in her palm. "And so smooth."

She removed her hands and looked up. "Can you...show me? What you told me?"

I nodded, jerkily.

She made to remove her glasses and I said, "No." My voice was suddenly hoarse and needy. "Leave them on."

She smiled up at me. She folded her hands in her lap and sat there with my rigid, vibrant spar throbbing less than a foot from her face.

I made sure I didn't once break contact with Emily's sky-blue eyes as I reached that molten core inside. I don't know what she saw, but her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated.

Lighter than sapphires, I thought. Lighter than cornflowers.

With a sharp grunt, I brought forth the magma.

"Ohh--!"

Emily gasped loudly as I came. The curve of my prick aimed my juice straight up in the air. She gaped at it with her mouth wide open. My cum rained down upon her face. A big glop splattered the right lens of her glasses.

Oh.

It was an incredibly sexy sight. It made the next few pumps especially strong and sweet. Several big splats landed right on Emily's tongue.

Oh, that's it. Taste it.

When the fountain ebbed, she leaned forward licked up the trail of cum oozing down my post. She lapped away each pearl as it emerged. Then she pursed her lips on my urethra and sucked out my jism. It sent shudders down through the soles of my feet.

"Ohh."

Emily let out a husky giggle. "I like it when you moan."

I laughed, breathlessly. "Same here."

She gulped. "Oh my gosh, Bobby. That was amazing." She licked her lips. "I can't believe it. Your cum tastes even better."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Thank you," she said. "And not just that..." She took a deep breath. "Just before you...came, it was like you were glowing. I mean, not physically emitting light, but...all that new sensuality of yours just got...well, more." The pink flush in her freckled cheeks deepened. "I just about melted."

Something clicked in my head. "That...kind of makes sense." I thought of Pauline. "Emergent women can turn it on like that, pretty much at will." I shook my head, a little bemused. "Never thought that trait would be transferrable."

I also thought of my friends, and how hypnotized they looked when I demonstrated this new ability for them. I'd blamed it on the grass, at the time.

Emily put my cock in her mouth. Her lips and her tongue were so soft and wet. I loved the sight of her pretty mouth stretched wide around my post with her Sunday-schoolteacher spectacles looking up at me. She took in a few inches. She went back and forth on it experimentally a few times, and then -- with a moist glug -- swallowed it right down to my balls. I was sensitive, and groaned sharply. She pulled back.

"Are you okay, Bobby?"

"Yeah," I took a breath. "I'm fine. Are you okay? Like, with the new me?"

She blew out a breath. "Well, there's sure a lot more of you now. But I can take it." She stroked my penis and her eyes grew soft and moist, studying it. "Though this gorgeous brute might push me to my utmost."

She kissed my dick again. When she put it back in her mouth, I knew she wasn't letting go until I came at least twice more. And only then so I could stick it straight up her cunt.

~~~

Thirty minutes later, we were lying naked, spent, and entwined on her picnic blanket. We were all sweaty and sticky. Our sides were heaving.

There was no pretense of me giving her lessons anymore. We just talked and made love. We even talked while making love. It was a remarkable thing. Neither of us thought we'd ever have this kind of intimacy in our lives; Emily because she was emergent and me because I was...well, me.

Her vagina could accommodate my new prick without difficulty. No insurmountable difficulties, anyway. She winced and wailed and even wept when I first crammed it in. Later, she was moaning and spurting nonstop as I slipped in and out. Surprisingly, it was much easier putting it up her butt. I suppose it was because she'd already had so many orgasms by that point. She was very relaxed and receptive.

When I sucked her off, I reveled in the rush of Seahag Fever. I'd enjoyed having my buddies come in my mouth the day before, but I'd missed the emergent kick of Emily's stuff.

Now that's more like it, I thought. God I love her cum.

I descended into a mindless cock-sucking fugue. I slurped and grunted and groaned as I glugged down each great gushing explosion of hot Emily-splooge. I kinda lost track, but I'm pretty sure I sucked at least three more orgasms out of her before we both collapsed in each other's arms.

~~~

I produced another canister of wet-wipes. She took her glasses off and cleaned them. Then she handed them to me. "Hold these while I get cleaned up?"

"Sure."

I noticed something odd about her glasses.

"Are these...non-prescription?"

Emily smiled as she wiped herself. "Yup. I woke up Sunday morning and just didn't need the old ones anymore. I didn't want Mrs. Nessman asking questions, so I picked these up."

"Smart," I said. "That's what my friends did."

"Your friends got fake glasses? Why?"

I cursed inwardly. Emily had me all distracted, but still, there was no excuse for that kind of slip.

"I shouldn't have said that," I muttered. "Sorry."

"What? Why?"

I paused.

"Bobby?"

She was very curious, and I didn't blame her for that. I took a deep breath.

"There are things, that...I can't tell you, about my friends. I want to tell you, I really do. But I made promises to them. Just like, I'd really like to tell them about you. But I made a promise to you, too."

"Oh." Emily looked down at her hands.

She paused. "If you tell them my secret...can they keep it? Do you vouch for them?"

"On my life," I said. "They're my best friends."

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"With my life," I said without hesitation.

"Okay then," she said. She folded her hands in her lap. "If you tell me everything, I promise to keep it in confidence." She took a breath. "And you are free to tell your friends about me, provided they also promise to keep it to themselves."

"Wow, Emily," I said. I felt a little dizzy. "Okay then."

"What did you want to tell me?" Emily said.

I took a deep breath and told her everything.

~~~

Some of it she already knew, like how my friends and I bonded over dickgirl magazines. Her eyes got a little wide when I started filling her in on what we actually got up to every Sunday.

I told her about the movies, the circle jerks, the Treatment. I told her how we met Claire and then all lost our virginities at a backroom sausage joint in Kentucky. Her eyes got really wide when I told her about the film-shoot-slash-orgy at Jack's house.

I left out nothing. I explained how we all became healthier and more robust in the wake of our dickgirl dalliances. When I told her how my friends and I graduated to sucking each other off that Sunday, her eyes looked ready to pop out of her head.

"Wow," she said at last. She looked a little dazed. "Now I really envy you your friends."

She paused, blinking. "So, at these...sausage shows, the ladies really just show up and...have sex with everyone?"

"Not always. Different venues allow different things."

Pauline had gone into detail on this when Claire interviewed her.

"All of them start off with a kind of a burlesque thing first," I explained. "A strip-tease act. They call it a squirt show."

"Squirt show?"

I nodded. "They get naked and masturbate on stage until they...you know, finish. Usually, more than once. And then they...proceed, according to the rules of the joint and the temperament of the crowd."

~~~

I recalled what Pauline told us nearly verbatim.

"The most important skill you can develop in the sausage mills," she had said, "is learning to read the room. Sometimes customers in even the most permissive places aren't looking to get laid. They may just want to watch a show and have a discreet wank under their raincoats. Other times, they're primed and ready for sex from the get-go."

We all took in every word. Having a naked, beautiful woman tell you things does wonders for your info retention.

"It's a dickgirl's job to determine how hot her audience is, and then work with that. Some crowds will come in ready to fuck, some won't. You don't want to go around grabbing crotches if they're not into it. Young DG's sometimes have problems with that. Once we're a bit more experienced, it's not a problem anymore. Our intuition improves, like, a hundredfold and we just know."

Pauline held up a finger. "But there is one important thing."

She spoke with special emphasis. "If you're patient, and pay attention to what works, you can get them into it. That's the best. Taking an audience that starts off cool and then making them hot. So hot, that they wind up with their shorts down and their jimmies out. That's a beautiful thing." She smiled reminiscently. "The first time I did that...wow. I'll never forget it. It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life."