The A.V. Club

A Novel by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

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.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Barn Show

I was up before dawn Sunday morning. I did my morning run all the way to the nearest coin-operated newspaper box and back. Just my luck, it was the ClevelandPlain Dealer. We didn't get a Sunday paper at my house.

I checked the newspaper thoroughly in my room once I got home. I found only one mention of McLuhan's appearance the previous night. I almost missed it. It was a small page six item with the headerMarshall McLuhan, What Are You Doin'?and the sub-headerCrazy Canuck Waxes Inappropriate on PBS.

It read:

Well-known University of Toronto egghead and cultural commentator

Professor Marshall McLuhan abruptly wore out his welcome on PBS staple

Between the Headlineslast night when he derailed the interview into a

discussion of Seahag Syndrome. Veteran celebrity wrangler Jim MacNeil

managed to get things back on track, but not before WNED's phone lines

reportedly lit up with angry callers.

During his brief excursion into the land of vulgarity, Professor McLuhan

coined the curious phrase 'soft plague' to describe the Seahag phenomenon.

This sobriquet has since been widely reported in other news media outlets.

Of Professor McLuhan's many supposed 'cultural contributions,' this one may

well be the most questionable.

That was it. My antennae tweaked to the phrase 'widely reported.'

I hid the newspaper under my mattress with my other sausage material (my bed was developing quite a lump) and went to take a shower and change.

When I got out of the shower, I checked my watch on the bathroom counter. I still had an hour before anyone else would be stirring.

I looked in the mirror and did a double-take. I kept on being startled by my own reflection. True, I was exercising more than I used to, and on a daily basis, but the athletic physique I saw in the mirror was way out of proportion to the effort I put into it.

I turned and checked out my ass. I had to whistle in amazement at its cheeky roundness. It looked both bigger and firmer than the week before. I turned around and inspected the barrels of my chest, the sharp definition of my abdominal muscles.

Holy shit. Where did allthiscome from?

Lastly, I inspected my penis as it hung more than halfway to my knees. As I watched, of course it began to rise.

I felt the blood and lust and excitement fill it. I sighed. I watched it extend and then reach upwards.

I watched it, first from the front, then in profile, so I could really see its length. As usual, I regarded it with a mixture of awe, pride and a tiny bit of disquiet.

God-damn,I thought.Do I dare measure it now? Do I even wanna know how long it really is?

I didn't reach for the measuring tape, but as my erection bobbed and twitched, more pressing concerns emerged.

Heh.I looked at my steamy reflection.Alone at last.

I hadn't had a chance to do much private masturbating in the last little while. Emily and the others made it unnecessary.

Yeah,I thought, feeling all those relaxed, horny and naughty feelings roll through me.'Bout time.

I squeezed it with both hands and the pre-cum began to flow. I let a string of spit fall from my lips onto the head of my dick. I lubed myself up and my cock began to gleam. I played with my balls and began to masturbate with long, luxurious strokes.

I called up Emily and Marianne in my mind. I imagined them together at first, and then me joining them. I had plenty of first-hand experience to draw upon.

Yeah. Oh yeah...

I stayed in profile while my eyes flicked back and forth between the real dick in my hands and its reflection. I began to hump my fists as I stroked.

I heard a whimpering little gasp, so quiet I almost missed it.

I looked up. Alison was standing in the bathroom doorway.

She was staring down at my crotch with eyes that looked ready to pop out of her head. Her mouth was wide open. She had both hands on her flaming cheeks. She was wearing her baggy boy PJ's with curlers in her hair and had obviously just rolled out of bed.

"Jesus,Alison!" I snatched a towel off a rack and wrapped it around my waist. It didn't help much. My erection pushed it out a mile. "Don't you fuckingknock?"

"Your door was ajar..." she said faintly, still staring down at my cloth-covered hard-on.

Damn.When I came in I was so intent on my newspaper I forgot to lock it behind me.

"Why are you even here?" I asked, turning away from her.

She almost seemed as fascinated with my ass as my Johnson. The girl couldn't stop staring.

"I...I wanted to remind you about the vitamin drink. Before Mom and Dad got up..."

She gulped, and finally averted her eyes.

"Iknow,"I said. "I'll get it for you today, okay? I'll have it when I come home tonight. Now, would you please go?"

She stole one last look at my towel-wrapped body and fled.

My posture and erection sagged. I rolled my eyes heavenward.

Good Lord, what next?

~~~

I left for St. Mike's before my family. I didn't want to face Alison over the breakfast table after that.

I stopped off at the pharmacy where there was a decent newsstand. Ernie carried all the major national newspapers. I picked up copies of theTimes(New York and Los Angeles), theChicago Tribuneand theWashington Post.He sold them to me with a dour look.

Oh, fuck you, Ernie,I thought uncharitably.

I drove quickly to church and parked in the lot. I sat in my car and skimmed through them while I waited for the other parishioners to arrive.

All the papers mentioned McLuhan's appearance onBetween the Headlines.In theWashington Post,it was a frontpage article. It wasn't the headliner (that was the launching of the RussianSoyuz-1capsule), but it was a meaty three-column piece. It stuck to the facts and had none of the amused, dismissive tone of thePlain Dealer.There was even an op-ed piece on page three:

With his unerring outsider's eye for peculiarities that often

escape born-and-bred Americans, Professor McLuhan has casually

dropped a firecracker into the hive of U.S. cultural discourse.

Last night onBetween the Headlineshe pointed out an

oft-overlooked black mark on America's civil rights record: women

afflicted with Seahag Syndrome. In his unfailingly polite manner,

he questioned the necessity of keeping these women out of the societal

mainstream. By dubbing it 'the soft plague' he has also illuminated

(and in doing do, brought into question) the curious 'forbidden'

nature of the entire discussion.

The Truman Administration's Physical Corruption Containment Act

of 1946 has gone uncontested since it was enacted. In that time,

women with Seahag Syndrome (the scientific title of which is Acquired

Xenogenic Andromorphism) have not revealed themselves to be any kind of

threat to national or even civic stability. So why keep it? This is the

question that Professor McLuhan posed last night, and it has caused

quite a stir.

There is something about this issue that makes us, as Americans,

reluctant to address it. It may be that we are ashamed. Certainly,

Seahag Syndrome has long been considered a shameful condition,

something to be kept quiet, like a venereal disease. This is possibly

why the Jane Grow laws remained unchallenged for so long.

Professor McLuhan's off-the-cuff remarks have opened the door to the idea

that perhaps, like the House Un-American Activities Committee and the Red

Scare itself, these laws have outlived whatever utility they may once have

had, if any.

I whistled.Wow.

The op-ed piece in theChicago Tribunewas completely different in tone. It called for the immediate expulsion and barring of McLuhan from the country for what it called the 'tactless and ignorant airing of our nation's dirty linen in a public forum.'

The other papers didn't offer any commentary, but they all treated it like an important news item.

I looked up. The other churchgoers were starting to arrive. I got ready.

~~~

I could tell that Sunday's AV Club meeting at Jack's was going to be something special as soon as our two-car motorcade arrived. A familiar orange Fiat was parked out front. Allen Hastings and Pauline Graham were on the porch, and both stood up as we approached.

Pauline hadn't lost a bit of her wholesome glamor. She was wearing a well-filled-out country dress and a simple rawhide sporran. Her frock was modestly cut. There was no hiding that impressive bust, however, and the sporran's belt emphasized the swoop and spread of her figure. Even from a distance her beautiful blue eyes (a much lighter shade than Emily's) were conspicuous.

Allen had...grown. The last time I saw him, he was seated in Claire's little car. Standing upright, I could see my little buddy was as tall as me. His shoulders had broadened and he had clearly spent a lot of time outdoors as he was bronzed and fit. That sense that he had grown into his angular features was stronger; his face had a sculpted symmetry with a strong jawline. That sense ofpresencewas even more palpable now. Despite his youth, he radiated authority.

Look at that,I thought.They're both glowing. Pauline because she's a dickgirl and Allen because dickgirls fuck him.

Then I noticed something else as they stepped down off the porch and approached us. They were a couple. They weren't holding hands or anything, but something about how they moved together told me they were an item now.

As they drew closer, another detail became apparent--Allen definitely wore the pants in that relationship. Even though she was almost ten years older than him, she stood by him with a deferential, almost fawning air.

There were shouts of greeting as all my friends burst out of Mark's van and charged them. Pauline clapped her hands to her cheeks at the sight of them.

"Oh! You've all grown somuch..."

Then she was flinging her arms around each of them and kissing them. The kisses were very passionate. My friends alternated between kissing her and throttling Allen's hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

"You lookgreat,"exclaimed Donnie.

"Same to you," said Allen, looking bemused. Then he laughed out loud and hugged him, tousling his hair. "Great to see you all looking so healthy."

"Yeah well, we've been getting as much vitamin J as we can," said Mark airily. "But it ain't our fault if pickings are slim in Ohio."

Marianne emerged from the van's shotgun door.

"Wow, who's this?" asked Pauline.

Allen looked shocked. "That can't be...Marianne Fleischmann?"

Marianne was looking at him, just as shocked.

"Allen?"

"Yeah," he replied. He looked at Mark. "What is going on here?"

Emily and I got out of the bananamobile. Pauline's eyes immediately flashed to my girlfriend.

"Oh...my," she said. "And suddenly everything becomes crystal clear." She smiled at Emily. "You've been a busy little beaver, haven't you?"

Allen's eyes went from Marianne to Emily. They softened. Just like that, I could tell he knew she was emergent.

"Oh," he said. "Where on Earth didyoucome from?"

"New Richmond," Emily said. She gulped at the sight of Allen. I saw a little tremor go through her legs. I could tell he made quite an impression on her.

"Ohio girls almost never come up emergent," said Pauline. "You're kind of a rarity."

"Um." She wrenched her eyes from Allen to Pauline. She smiled a little goofily. "Thank you."

I put my arm around Emily's shoulders. "Rare indeed," I said. I kissed her temple. "Rare and precious."

"Oh, you," she said, elbowing me. She actually blushed. This unexpected meeting had her quite flustered. "I'm Emily McPherson and I'm Bobby's girl." She extended a hand.

Pauline ignored her hand, laughed and swooped us both up into a three-way hug. Emily gave a startled yip. Both of us found ourselves hugging her back. Pauline kissed Emily on the cheek and me on the lips. It was a wet, open-mouthed smooch with lots of lascivious tongue.

Like a switch being flipped, I could feel Pauline's core. I made a surprised littlemurksound into our kiss. I wasn't expecting that kind of instant access. Her sexuality was on the same scale as Lucille's, which was damned impressive, but that wasn't what really shocked me. What shocked me was howfamiliarher core was. Pauline's innermost essence had its own unique character and Irecognizedit. That was a big discovery.

The second I grasped that, I knew it was true of all dickgirls; each hidden molten treasure was as individual as a fingerprint. A second later and I knew you could put Emily and a dozen other dickgirls in a lineup and I could pick her out blindfolded. The same was true of Pauline, Lucille, Scarlett, any dickgirl with whom I'd been intimate. I could tell each of them apart in a heartbeat, with my eyes closed.

"Oh, big changes indeed," murmured Pauline. Her eyes were bright as they looked into mine.

"Marianne," Allen said. "You've...grown."

"So have you," she replied. "I almost didn't recognize you. You got sotall."

"You too," he said. "I take it...you and Mark are, uh...properly dating now?"

"Yup," she said with a grin. "Blowjobs and everything." She took Mark's hand in hers.

"Not just Mark, though," said Pauline. "I'm guessing you've been giving plenty of blowjobs to Emily, too, given how far you've come along."

"Well, yes," Marianne grinned. "She was my first dickgirl. I got my first taste of vitamin J from her." Her grin grew a trifle lewd. "She taught me how to fuck and suck cock proficiently."

If I had been chewing gum, I would have swallowed it. That was blunt even for Marianne, but it was the truth.

"Oh really?" Pauline smiled with a hint of sensuality. "Is that true, Mark?"

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding and grinning. "She'sgreat,Pauline!"

"Well then," Pauline looked back at Marianne. Her smile grew a bit more sensual. "I guess I'll have to put that to the test later."

That made Marianne blush. I guess Pauline had her a little more flustered than she'd let on. "Looking forward to it," she replied softly.

"Before we get too distracted," put in Allen, "Pauline and I need to talk to you all about something. It's serious."

"Could we do this on the back porch?" asked Emily. "I love the view there."

"No problem."

~~~

"Claire and Betty are in Amsterdam, finalizing a distribution deal," said Allen. "We already have the money lined up."

"That's great," I exclaimed.

Jack's back porch wasn't short on rickety old wooden furniture and we'd all found a seat. It even had one of those old-fashioned couches that could swing back and forth in its frame. We all held clinking glasses of icy lemonade.

He threw me a quick smile. "One look atThe Ecstasy of Sploogeand they were sold."

"The Ecstasy of Splooge?"squawked Marianne.

"It's sort of a greatest hits reel Bobby edited together," Allen explained. "Anyway, Claire couldn't be here, and she really wanted to be the one to tell you guys." He took a breath. "Have you seen the latest edition ofJoint?"

"We've seen it," Frank said gravely.

"So you know," Allen said. My brothers and I all nodded.

"Know what?" Emily and Marianne asked at the same time.

Mark reached into his knapsack and pulled out his copy of the incriminating issue.

"Jesus, Radakovic." I protested before I could think. "You just carry that around on you?"

"Zip it, Tallboy," he retorted. "Besides, you carry a whole bookstore in your trunk."

"My trunk has a lock," I muttered, already regretting my outburst. Alison had put me out of step today.

Mark handed the magazine to Marianne. She and Mark and Emily and I were all crammed on the swing couch.

"Oh wow," said Marianne, looking at the photo of Pauline on the cover. Emily leaned over and they both flipped through it with their heads together.

"Oh, my," said Emily as they reached the pictorial. Marianne glanced at Pauline sitting perched next to Allen on the railing, and then back at the magazine.

"Wow," she muttered. "You look...really good in print."

"Thank you," answered Pauline with a smile.

"Oh," said Emily in a different tone. She looked up at us. "I think I see the problem. Your faces aren't really hidden, are they?"

Allen said, "OrdinarilyJointblurs the entire face of anyone other than the dickgirls."

"I'd say they changed that policy," Emily said.

Allen grimaced. "We had no idea they were gonna do that. That's why Pauline and I are here. Claire wanted to alert you and apologize."

"That's what we figured," I said. "You can tell her there's no hard feelings. We'll just...deal with any fallout as it happens."

"There's something else you need to know," Allen said. "Sending those pics in was my idea."

"Our idea,"Pauline said firmly.

Allen shrugged. "We needed money for airfare and stuff. I knewJointwould go for those pics, so..." he spread his palms.

"Allen," Frank said gently. "It's okay."

"Wow, Mark," Marianne said poring over his copy of Joint. "I forgot how bad your complexion used to be." She giggled. "And your dick is sotiny."

"Marianne," Emily said reprovingly. To the rest of us, she said, "Do you honestly expect any...legal repercussions?"

"We're all of age," Donnie said. "They can't arrest us."

"But that's not the real problem," put in Mark. "If this gets out before graduation, we'll sure as shit get expelled."

"And ifthathappens," added Jack, "we can kiss our scholarships goodbye. They all have morals clauses."

"Oh crap," Marianne said faintly.

"It may not come to that," I said. "Even if this does become public knowledge, we may still be able to bullshit our way out of it. They can't prove it's us in the magazine." I shrugged. "Though I do hope it's a position we never find ourselves in."

Emily was staring at the last pages of the set. "Is that Claire?" she asked, tapping a photo of our British friend with Pauline's cock in her mouth.

We all nodded.

"She's very pretty," said Emily softly.

"TrixieTruncheon?"asked Marianne, reading the last caption with a raised eyebrow. "Is she a dickgirl?"

"No," said Pauline. "That was Claire's idea. If she claimed to be a dickgirl, any photos of her with me wouldn't have to be censored. She was very pleased with Bobby's work and didn't want them altered."

"Bobby's work?" asked Emily.

"Claire took all the photos up until she appears," said Allen. "Bobby took the rest."

"Which makes this your first magazine credit," Marianne said to me."Mazel tov."

I snorted. "Not sure it's one I can claim, but thanks."

The A.V. Club Ch. 23

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