The A.V. Club

A Novel by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

Chapter 27 -- The Big Homecoming

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.

~~~

I was about halfway back to Point Pleasant when it occurred to me that I might've gotten a little carried away with Irwin and his friends back at theChagrin.It may have been the last vestige of my overly-cautious former self talking, but I wondered if I'd behaved rashly.

The events had flowed so naturally at the time. I had escalated things from a friendly group jack-off party to a full-scale orgy without a second thought. It was effortless. That gave me pause as I drove home.

I knew Irwin and his friends were okay with what happened. I had no worries about them blabbing about it. What concerned me was that I was able to engineer that entire scene soeasily. I wasn't used to having that kind of power. It was unsettling. Being able to bend reality to my will in that fashion was so completely opposite to my usual life experience that I couldn't help but be disconcerted by it.

It would be so easy to misuse that kind of power.

I didn't think I would. Then again, no one gifted with great power ever thinks they're going to let it go to their head. Until they do.

Frank Herbert'sDunedealt with that theme extensively. Paul Atreides at first shies away from the prospect of a violent and horrific galactic holy war, but then, as he becomes accustomed to the exercise of his spice-amplified powers, gives into it. At the end of the novel, it's clear that while he's the protagonist of the story, he's not the hero. He is simply the inevitable outcome.

I knew wars and death didn't hang on any of my choices, but I also knew that I had the ability to seriously mess up people's lives if I wasn't careful.

All I can do is follow my best judgment and hope for the best.

I gave my head a wry shake as I thought about Emily. I'm sure she never had these kinds of ethical dilemmas. I envied her certainty.

She was a typical dickgirl in that she had all the perky self-assurance of a young boy's erection. It was a distinctively boner-like conviction that the universe would magically align with her chosen course, usually set by her dick, regardless of any evidence to the contrary.

Confoundingly, more often than not, her dick's choices had proven out. While I was very happy (and relieved) that was the case, part of me did find it exasperating. It was part of the great love I felt for her.

I wasn't sure I could afford that same level of blind confidence.

~~~

I got back around dinnertime and was surprised to find Mom and Dad weren't home. Alison was there to greet me with an equally surprising hug.

"Hi Bobby. I missed you."

"I missed you too," I said. That wasn't remotely true, but I had to admit it was nice to see her again. I hugged her back and enjoyed the press of her tits against me. "Where are the folks?"

"Out at some work dinner with Dad's boss," she said. "Mom left cold cuts in the fridge."

"Great." I went to the counter and opened the breadbox and the cutlery drawer.

"The school called," Alison said. "About an hour ago."

"Really?" I asked, reaching down a plate. "What did they want?"

"To talk to Mom and Dad. I told them they were out. They wanted to know which restaurant they went to and I told them I didn't know. They hung up."

I frowned as I got out the Wonder bread and cold cuts.What the hell?

"That's odd," I remarked.

"Yeah. Um, Bobby?"

Her tone was deceptively casual. Something was up.

"Yes?" I asked warily.

"Can we talk about...dating?"

I finished making two big Dagwoods and brought them to the table. "Sure, I guess."

"You and Emily...you date, right?" She lowered her voice meaningfully. "I mean, youdatedate."

"Yeah," I said, taking a big bite of bread, summer sausage, American cheese and mustard. I chewed and swallowed. "We go parking and all that, sure. What's this about, Alison?"

She looked down. I could tell she was very keyed up about something. She took a deep breath.

"Now that I'm more...fully developed..." she shot me a look like she was daring me to make a crass statement, but I held my tongue. "Boys are taking more of an interest."

I nodded and kept eating. "Stands to reason. Has anyone asked you out yet?"

"No one I wanted to say yes to. But it's only a matter of time. And I've been looking forward to...dating,reallydating, since I was in Middle School. I really wanna be able to...do it right."

I got an unpleasant hunch where this conversation was going. "So?"

She took another big breath and then spoke in a rush. "Bobby, do you think you could teach me how to do blowjobs?"

I damn near choked on my sandwich. "What?"

"You've got a really big beautiful dick. If I could practice on it..."

"Practiceon it? You mean,suckit?"

She flinched, but then stuck her chin out defiantly. I was struck by how cute she'd become. Her lips were pouty and made her look like Sally Fields' characterGidgetfrom TV.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Are youkidding?No."

"I'm just saying, if I could handle yours, I know I could handle anyone's."

"So practice on one of Mom's cucumbers!"

"It's not the same. Look, I'm not expecting you to do this for nothing, okay?" She took a breath. "I know you like my tits. I see you staring at them all the time. If you let me practice on you, I'll let you see them. And...feel them."

I was appalled, but mostly because I wasn't entirely repelled by her suggestion. I kept expecting to feel a blast of moral revulsion, or...something, but it didn't happen. Instead, I found myself oddly intrigued. I didn'twantto be intrigued, but I couldn't help it.

"Alison, that's just...wrong."

"I'm not saying we should do it for fun. It would be like when Dad had you teach me to drive."

Oh right, and thanks forthat, Dad. The little speed freak nearly killed us both.

"Yeah, and as I recall you flunked your driver's test.Twice." She still hadn't earned it.

"That wasn't my fault! It was December and the roads were icy..."

The phone rang. Alison jumped a little. She was nearer to it, so she picked it up.

"Halverson residence."

She paused, then held the phone out. "It's for you."

"Great timing," I mumbled and put the handset to my ear. "Hello?"

"Bobby?" Mrs. Cheevers' voice jabbed my eardrum. I yanked the handset away reflexively.

"Mrs. Cheevers?" I spoke carefully. "Is everything okay?" Her voice was a lot shriller than her usual bored drone.

"You need to get over to the school, Bobby! There's a welcome-home pep rally happeningright nowin the parking lot. There arereportershere!"

"What?" I was completely brought up short. Despite being completely discombobulated by Alison, I wasn't expecting any acknowledgment of our win and was frankly a little touched by the gesture. "Were we expecting this?"

"No, we weren't!" she blared in my ear. "There's a mob of people here and nobody told meanything!"

"I'll be right there," I said. I could tell she was seriously freaked out. I tried to make my voice calming.

"Wait, wait!" she squawked. "Bring your camera. We're going to need photos for the yearbook. Andwear your jacket."

She hung up on me and I did likewise with a sigh.

"Well, that was the school," I told Alison. "I gotta head out. And you and I are never talking about...that, again, okay?"

"Okay." She sat back down and looked so dejected I almost felt sorry for her.

~~~

My head was still spinning as I drove to school.

Jesus Christ. Never a dull moment in the life of Robert G. Halverson.

I was so distracted by Alison's bombshell request (pun intended), I almost veered into a utility pole when I arrived at Grant Memorial and saw the crowd in the parking lot.

The place was overflowing. There were enough people to fill the auditorium and they were all milling around a bunch of haphazardly-parked cars. It looked like a lot of students had brought their families, too. It was like a tailgate party outside a Bearcats game.

The entire school marching band and cheerleading squad was there in full uniform. The sight of Stephanie Bauer in that short skirt and form-fitting sweater caught at my throat, she was so lovely. The marching band was blasting the school fight song while she and her team led cheers and performed acrobatics. There were even a couple of people holding up posterboards sayingGo Minutemen, though I think those signs were left over from football season.

I parked in the street and just sat there for a full minute staring with my mouth hanging open. I couldn't believe this number of people had turned out for theChess Club.

As I scanned the crowd, I saw all of the action was centered around the bus. I could see Mrs. Cheevers and Principal Stankovic standing there next to Mr. Carmody, the Grant High Vice Principal and chief butt-whacker. There were a couple other professional-looking adults standing with them, one of whom held a big black Nikon with an impressive telephoto lens. Those would be the reporters she mentioned.

All the Chess Club guys were still on the bus, looking out the windows with frankly terrified expressions. I was reminded ofLifemagazine photos of freedom riders in Birmingham.

Then --Thank God-- I saw some friendly faces in the crowd. Jack was standing by the cheerleaders and Frank was next to him with Heidi Miller on his arm. I almost didn't recognize her. She had grown even further in every way. It had been less than a week since I'd last seen her and she was taller and even more beautiful. Donnie was standing next to her, holding hands with Linda Carruthers, who had metamorphosed into a buxom and black-haired Ann-Margret. Mark stood next to her, leaning against his van with Marianne Fleischmann leaning on his shoulder in a miniskirt she could never have worn in class and a black leather jacket. She looked as sultry and sexy as Suzanne Pleshette.

And next to her stood Emily. She was wearing her usual country frock and had left her glasses at home.

It's a school night,I thought, amazed, even as my heart began to race.How on Earth did they get her away from her parents?

I didn't even remember getting out of my car. I was just suddenly walking towards her with a determined stride. Our eyes met. I could see her mood lift at the sight of me. Then she glanced over at the reporters standing by Cheevers and the Stank. She looked back at me with a small-but-urgent shake of her head.

Even through my almost-overwhelming need to hug her and kiss her, I got the message. A public display of affection here might get into the papers. I made a slight course correction and quick-marched to Mrs. Cheevers and the principal instead.

Halfway there, something outrageous happened. I got recognized.

It was my letterman jacket. As I walked through the parking lot, people noticed it and a roar went up. Suddenly strangers were slapping my back and grabbing my hand to shake it. It would have been terrifying if they weren't all so filled with joy and goodwill. It was incalculably weird; they were happy and excited to see me.

Their happiness was contagious. By the time I reached the bus, I had what I'm sure was a very foolish grin plastered across my face. I couldn't help it.

Mrs. Cheevers looked both relieved and vexed to see me. "Thereyou are, Bobby, finally." She seemed almost as unnerved by this impromptu reception as my teammates.

"I'm here," I said, unnecessarily.

"Good," she said with false brightness. "Now we can get this business over with." She leaned towards me and whispered furiously, "Get them off the bus.Now."

"What?" I whispered back, wondering why we were whispering.

"They won't get off the bus. They're holding up everything. Now get in there andfix this."

Mystified, I climbed aboard. In contrast to the outside, it was very quiet in there. The team were all sitting in their seats, silent and petrified.

"Guys," I said, "what's the deal? They're gonna take some photos of us wearing our medals and holding up the trophy. That's it. It's not a lynching."

"Are youkidding?" a bespectacled shrimp named Phil McKenzie asked. "Do youseewho's out there?"

He pointed, and I immediately saw the problem.

Most of the crowd was sharing in the sense of general jubilation, but there were several exceptions. Stank and the VP were impatient, Mrs. Cheevers was anxious, and the reporters were bored. Also, Cliff Garrity and his entire offensive line, including Corey Whittaker, were posted several paces away, leaning on their cars and glaring at my teammates with frankly murderous intent.

I could read their jealousy and anger from inside the bus. The Chess Club was getting adulation they felt entitled to and never received. They were all smoldering.

"We take one step off this bus and we're dead men," Phil said.

"Yeah," said another, a chubby four-eyes named Kevin Portnoy (known asPortlyto the wedgie brigade). "It's not our fault those thugs never made the playoffs."

"I see," I said. I took a breath. "You really think they're gonna try anything right in front of Carmody and the Stank?"

"They'll find a way," said Phil darkly. "And they'll get away with it. They always do."

I nodded.Point taken.

"Okay. Give me a second."

I stood there for a moment with the crowd noises from the outside leaking into the quiet of the bus. I had absolutely no idea what to do.

Then, of course, a really stupid idea occurred to me.

"Be right back," I told them.

I got off the bus and approached The Stank. "Mr. Stank," I said, hurriedly adding "-ovic, did you call around to all the families of the Chess Club earlier?"

"And about a hundred others, yes," he said peevishly. "Is there a problem?" He frowned at me, and at Mrs. Cheevers, who blanched.

"Not at all," I said. I had been thinking about that call from the school Alison got and was hoping it wasn't just me. Turns out I'd hoped right.

Phase two. I hopped up onto the hood of the bus and clambered up onto its roof.

"Bobby," spluttered Mrs. Cheevers. "What are youdoing?"

A roar went up from the crowd at this occurrence. I was distracted by a sudden camera flash and almost lost my footing. The reporter with the camera was already taking pictures. I regained my balance and held up my palms for silence. To my absolute shock, the crowd quieted. Even the band stopped playing.

I took a deep calming breath and once again was surprised at the booming, authoritative voice that came out of my chest.

"My name is Bobby Halverson and I'm the captain of the Grant Memorial Chess Club."

Another roar went up. It was dizzying. Their energy was intoxicating and to be the focus of it all was exhilarating and a little scary. My heart was pounding and I felt a little giddy.

I held up my hands again, and like magic, the noise subsided.

"My teammates and I would like to thank you all for turning out for us. We're proud -- and very glad -- to be bringing home the gold for you."

The applause at that was deafening. Some idiot even set off a string of firecrackers.

When the racket started to fade, I raised my voice again. "We especially want to thank the Grant Memorial marching band and the Cheer Squad for showing up on what I'm sure must have been short notice. Please give them a hand."

I clapped, and like the rats of Hamelin, the people followed. "We love you, Bobby!" one of the cheerleaders called out (I think it was Stephanie), and another girl (I'm sure it was Marianne) yelled out "Show us your big dick!"

The laughter spawned by that was just as deafening as the prior applause. I had a sudden insane urge to comply and be damned with the consequences. I squashed it. I could see the Stank and Carmody glaring around, fruitlessly trying to see who said it. Cliff Garrity was also glaring around, filled with what I recognized as a profound and distressing sense of unreality.

I felt sorry for him. I shouldn't have, but there was something innately pitiable about his confusion. The world as he knew it had turned upside-down.Nerdswere getting the welcome-home celebration that should have beenhis. People were holding upGo Minutemensigns and it wasn't forhim. Worst of all, cheerleaders were cheeringnerds, which was clearly a violation of some immutable cosmic law.

I switched my focus to the crowd as a whole and waited another ten full seconds for the ruckus to settle.

"We are," I continued, "especially grateful to our families. We couldn't have won the state championship without their support."

A solid and serious round of applause went up at that, and I had to pause again until it was over.

"We feel it's only right that they be part of this moment. We would like to invite all Chess Club family members present to come up and be with us here at the bus."

There was a startled murmur and then more applause as small groups of people began moving forward. The applause got louder as more family members gathered around the bus. The crowd approved of the sentiment.

"That's it, come right on up. Give them a hand, people." I clapped, and another thunderous peal followed.

I very cautiously accessed my core and was almost overwhelmed by all the sensory input. It was like a hundred-piece orchestra playing a hormonal symphony and I could tell what every instrument was doing. I had an especially good read on the crowd's collective temperature. I knew, intuitively, how to manipulate it.

I had a perverse thought:I could turn this into a riot if I wanted. Fuck this town up real good.

I shook my head internally and got a grip.

Be cool, Muad'Dib.

"We're gonna come out and do the presentation in a moment. Thanks again for supporting us."

Still more applause billowed as I climbed off the bus. My teammates' families were all gathered around it, forming a solid phalanx between the bus and the jocks. I boarded it again.

"Okay guys," I told them in my normal speaking voice. "Your families are here. You're safe. Let's let them have their little show."

"Why are all these people even here?" asked Kevin in a peevish little voice. "We're not thefootballteam, for Christ's sake."

"They're here for the same reason we have these stupid jackets," I said. "The boosters need to feel this school can still win something. It's idiotic, but when is high school not? Come on, let's go."

They were still reluctant to get up. I moved closer to them and spoke in a lower tone. "Look. This is all bullshit. I get it. We aren't a team and chess isn't a sport. It's an intellectual board game. We aren't sportsmen and we certainly aren't athletes. We'regamers."

I took a deep breath. "So yes, this is another piece of mindless high school bullshit we have to indulge.But," and I held up an index finger to indicate I was making a Big Point, "with your picture in the paper and a gold medal around your neck, the next time you ask a girl out, there's a good chance she'll say yes. And you know whatthatmeans."

The A.V. Club - Ch. 27

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