The A.V. Club

A Novel by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

Chapter Nine: Puff Puff Pass, or Dickgirl Dee-Dee

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.

~~~Emily and I traded phone numbers. I spent my whole shift Saturday with the kiosk's phone tucked in the crook of my neck, chatting away as I served customers. The hours flew by. When I went to bed that night, I couldn't believe how much I missed seeing her or touching her that day. It was like some major bodily requirement like eating or sleeping hadn't been met.I didn't know how I was going to wait until Monday to be with her again.~~~My family attended morning Mass every Sunday at eleven. As Mass ended, I would swap my dress shoes for my sneakers and say bye to my family. I'd split for the AV Club's pick-up point a few blocks from St. Michael's. I would still be wearing my Sunday best when Mark's van pulled up alongside me and the side door opened. They'd haul me in. As usual, Mark would slow down, but not stop. It was like an abduction.That Sunday, as soon as I was in the van, it took everything I had not to blurt out I had an emergent girlfriend. Emily's secret was not mine to share. As it turned out, Frank had some momentous news of his own."Is that everyone?" he asked, craning his head around the front passenger seat."Yup," said Jack. Mark's folks lived even further out into the country, and Jack's place was on his way. Jack often tagged along while Mark picked up the troops. "All present and accounted for.""Good," said Frank. "We got a parcel from Betty," he announced, producing a stack of gray cardstock booklets. "As promised, not only did she send us an updated copy of the gray book, she sent usfive.One for each of us."He passed them around."It turns out Ogilvie's is just the tip of the iceberg. There are all kinds of places nearby hosting shows. There's even a bowling alley in Claryville that has after-hours shows every Wednesday.""Hang on," Donnie said. "Did you sayClaryville?Tin Pan Allie's Bowling Lanes?""That's the one.""Holy crap," Donnie sounded stunned. "WKYT shotBowling for Dollarsthere all last summer."Donnie had been a junior championship bowler before cars and dickgirls took over his adolescence. He still followed the sport on TV whenever he could."Not just that," said Mark. "Claryville's even closer than Alexandria."There was an excited hubbub. Mark's voice rose above it. "Who's performing this week?"Frank checked his notebook. "Someone called Scarlett Thunder."None of us recognized the name. Jack chuckled. "Sounds like something out of Robert E. Howard."Jack gravitated toward the sexier and gorier end of heroic fantasy and sci-fi. The rest of us were more into Asimov, Herbert and Tolkien.Mark's hand went up. "Motion to go bowling this Wednesday?"Donnie's hand shot up. "Seconded!""Any opposed?" asked Jack. Everybody looked at me. I didn't blame them. The old me would have had plenty to say about crossing state lines on a school night to go to an unproven venue. I just smiled and examined my copy of the gray book.From the outside it looked like an old-fashioned farmer's almanac. The cover had a black-and-white picture of a convertible cresting a hill. There was a happy motorist behind the wheel, waving. The title,The Official Travel & Event Guide of the American Sausage-Makers Association,was rendered in a jaunty, county-fairground typeface."Motion carried," said Jack. He waved his copy of the gray book in the air. "Woo-hoo!"~~~When we all piled out of the van at Jack's place, I noticed Donnie hadn't brought any beer with him. Usually, he'd have four or five six-packs."We drinking anything today, Donnie?" I asked.He grinned. "Couple big pitchers of lemonade. Which I brought mix for. As far as intoxicants go, this week we're trying something different." He pulled out a baggie of ready-rolled reefers.Frank brightened. "Oh, excellent."Mark stared. "Where the hell did you get those?""Linda Carruthers sold 'em to me."I stared at Donnie. "Since when do you talk to Linda Carruthers?"Jack was staring at him too. "Is that what you spent the beer money on?""Yes," Donnie said to Jack. "It was actually cheaper. And I didn't have to risk a fake ID at Perskey's."He turned to me. "We started talking Tuesday.""How didthathappen?" Mark asked him as we filed up onto Jack's porch.Donnie leaned against the railing. "It was after Economics. She was talking with those friends of hers from Drama Club. They were rapping about Vietnam.""Oh shit," said Mark. Linda and her friends had some very public opinions about the war and the soldiers waging it.Baby-killerswas one of the more polite terms they used.Donnie shrugged. "So anyway, I heard her talk some shit, and...I just stopped. I walked up to her and said, hi, my name's Donnie Corso, my brother Richie's over there, and he isn't any kind of thug or killer. He's a baker and a baker's son, and right now he's scared shitless. So are his folks. And I don't mean to be rude, but what you're saying doesn't help."There was a brief, dumbfounded silence."Wow," said Mark. He looked a little mind-boggled. As did we all. "How didthatgo over?"Donnie shrugged. "They were kinda stunned. I didn't know what else to say, so I just walked away. Couple hours later, Linda came up to me in the library. She was pretty apologetic. Said she didn't know anyone who had family over there." He shrugged again. "Apparently, I gave her something to think about. We talked about Richie's situation for a while. I told her what he'd told us about Vietnam over the phone.""You can call home from the war?" asked Frank.Donnie nodded. "They use some kind of radio relay, supported by local ham operators stateside. He can't just dial us up, he's gotta sign up for a phone appointment.""WhatdidRichie tell you?" asked Jack."Basically," said Donnie, "sweltering hot. Also, bad food, bad smells and having no idea what's going on. And violent stuff happening, like, all the time."He paused. "She was...really interested. Said she was against the war, but never had a real conversation with anyone personally affected by it. I told her I was against the war too, but I still wanted my brother to come home in one piece. She asked me if I'd ever smoked grass. I said yeah, it was a great time.""Understatement," said Mark drily."I think that surprised her a little. Anyway, she invited me to smoke up with her friends under the bleachers after school. I went.""So you're hanging out with the Drama Club now?" asked Jack.Donnie shrugged once more. "They're nerds too, in a way. The way they dig this guy Bertolt Brecht, it's like Allen withDune.""Hardly," Jack said tartly. "You don't seethemgetting toilet swirlies.""Well," said Donnie diplomatically, "with us, it's science and dickgirls. With them, it's politics and art.""By that way of thinking," said Frank, "jocks are just sports nerds."We all burst out laughing."No,"said Mark, his voice filling with the righteous indignation of a civil rights orator. "I'm sorry, butthatis where I draw the line. I willnotallow our struggle to be so denigrated."Donnie laughed. "Zip it, Radakovic.""We havesuffered,sir,too much,to allow jocks to appropriate our very i-dentity."We all laughed harder. Amazingly, Frank chuckled a bit, too. "I wasn't trying to be funny," he said. "But I kind of see how that worked."Mark stopped abruptly and gave him a suspicious look."Anyway," chuckled Jack, "if we're gonna smoke this stuff, we gotta go out back. No pot smoking in the house. Mark's van still smells like an opium den."Frank said, "I'm pretty sure there was no opium in Claire's marijuana, but I see your point."Mark gave Frank an even more suspicious look, but for once, kept it zipped.~~~"Hmm," mused Frank. "I think this marijuana might be better than Claire's."He took another deep drag and passed the reefer to me. I sucked in a mouthful and then carefully breathed it down. I held it for a few seconds and then exhaled a plume of funky-smelling smoke. It was a warm, still day and Jack's backyard had quite the blanket of haze overhead, now. That mellow, weirdly cheerful buzz intensified. I felt lightheaded. I passed it to Donnie."That's...really good stuff," I said. I couldn't seem to stop blinking."I agree," said Donnie, taking a puff. "Then again, she can afford it.""True," I said. The Carruthers were old money in this county. "Where does she get it, I wonder? The grass, I mean, not the money.""Her cousins," said Donnie. He passed it to Mark. "Botany majors at Kent State. They grow it.""That's handy," said Mark, taking a drag. "Oh crap, there it goes again." The joint went out. He brought out a lighter and held the tip over the flame. The end glowed red again, and he quickly took another pull. "There we go.""Apparently," said Donnie, clearing his throat with a little cough, "the trick is to remove the males.""Say again?" I asked."The male pot plants. It's the female ones that get you high. If you don't let the males pollinate them, the potency of the buds doubles, even quadruples.""How do you get more plants, then?" asked Jack. "If the females don't reproduce.""They set aside one female to be a mother and hand-pollinate it. It gives 'em all the seeds they need.""Wait a minute," said Mark. "Why dounfertilizedfemales produce stronger pot?"Frank coughed. "Because their flowers are reproductive." His deep voice naturally fell into a lecturer's cadence. "The flowering buds of female cannabis sativa produce a sticky resin to catch pollen. If a female isn't fertilized by the time it reaches maturity, it automatically starts producing more of that resin to better its reproductive chances. In certain strains, that resin is pharmacologically active." He shrugged. "More resin, more potency.""Hang on," said Jack. "Cannabis sativa?Indianhemp?"Mark said, "The stuff they makeropeout of? That'spot?""Yes," said Donnie and Frank at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled."I drove Frank over to the big reference library in Mount Orab yesterday," explained Donnie. "We looked it all up.""I was curious about it," said Frank. "I found the experience with Claire's marijuana intriguing. I found some fascinating research papers from Israel. The active ingredient is apparently called delta-9 tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC. As far as psychedelic experiences go, though, I much prefer emergent sperm.""As do we all, I imagine," I said owlishly, to general murmurs of agreement. I noticed Jack was dragging pretty deeply on what was left of the reefer. After a few trips around the circle, we'd smoked it down to a nub."Careful there, Jack," I said before I could stop myself. "Your asthma."He made ashoo flygesture at me and calmly exhaled an impressive cloud. We were all engulfed, once again, in pine and juniper."Well that one's done," he said. He licked his fingertips, squeezed the nub to extinguish it, and flicked it into the weeds. He stretched. "I feel like a run.""A what?" asked Mark."I've been running every morning before school," Jack said.There was a somewhat befuddled silence at that. "Uh...why?" asked Donnie.Jack shrugged. "At first...I just wanted to see if I could. Then...I kept doing it. Because I liked it." He balanced on one leg and jackknifed the other to stretch out his hamstrings. He went back and forth. "Come on. Last one round the cornfield makes the popcorn."He charged away. We stared after him, then at each other. We tradedare we really doing thislooks. Then Frank let out an unselfconsciousyukof laughter and took off after him. By reflex, we followed.I hadn't been for a run in a while. I should have been puffing and straining. Instead, my body clicked into gear like I'd been training for weeks and had a fifteen-minute warm-up. I'd never felt so powerful and co-ordinated. I found my rhythm and joined Jack at the front of the pack.I'd been running track since eighth grade, and let me tell you, that little bastard gave me a run for my money. He had shorter legs, but they pumped like steam engines.I glanced over my shoulder, and none of my friends were floundering. In fact, they were all coming up fast behind us. Their faces were happy and amazed.We were all laughing like loons as we chased each other around the quarter-mile square of long-dead cornstalks. Coming around the barn, Jack and I tied for first place, while the others more or less tied for second in a big clump."Water," gasped Donnie. "My God, why did we do this when I already had cotton mouth?"Jack brought the garden hose and we all drank thirstily from it. Frank splashed his face, and then stripped off his shirt.We all stared as he splashed water on his chest to cool off."Frank," said Mark, "when did...thathappen?" He was pointing at Frank's torso.Frank's body wasn't rippling with muscle, exactly, but it was considerably more defined than a week ago. He always wore bulky sweaters at school, so we'd never noticed the narrowing of his waist or the expansion of his chest and shoulders. His belly had flattened. The change wasn't as striking as it had been with Allen, but it was still impressive."What?" asked Frank. He looked down at himself. "Oh. Wednesday, I think. I didn't really notice until Thursday, and it was well underway by then. I think we can all expect something similar.""Hang on," said Jack. He jogged into his house and came back with our robes over one arm, a stack of towels over the other, and a cake of soap in his fist. He dumped the towels and robes on lawn chairs."Just like Ogilvie's," he said with a grin. "Pass the hose, would you Frank?"Jack quickly stripped out of his shirt and vest."Jesus," Donnie yelped.Somehow, over the course of this last week, Jack's underfed skinniness had metamorphosed into lean muscularity. His biceps popped, as did his calves. His flat stomach had grown an egg basket of abdominal muscles. His shoulders had grown broader, although not as blatantly as Frank's.He unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and shoved them down along with his briefs."Ta-da," he said, a little shyly."Jesus,"Donnie whispered.He had grown the most between his legs. Jack's penis had become an uncircumcised python. It hung lower than Mark or Frank's."Hose?" Jack asked again."You're God-damn right that's a hose," Mark said hoarsely, staring."No, can you pass it to me? Frank?"Frank passed the hose to me and I passed it to Jack. None of us took our eyes off Jack for a second. There was a wiry strength about him, now. He hosed himself off and the rest of us began taking off our sweaty clothes.All of my friends revealed similar muscular development. Donnie, in particular, resembled a Charles Atlas ad from the comic books. But then again, he had the most physically demanding shit-job of all of us. He worked as a part-time mechanic for Mark's Dad at Radakovic Auto Repair and Collision. When he took his boxers off, a snake dropped down that was every bit as long as Jack's."Damn," I breathed. We all looked around at each other.Jack lathered himself up and then passed the soap to Mark. Us staring at him, particularly his dick, didn't seem to bother him at all.In fact, his dick began rising. It rose fast, almost springing into a proudly up-curved stance. He looked down at it, then at us, and gave us a helpless kind of shrug."Shit,"I whispered. Jack's cock was bigger than Frank's. It was bigger than mine, last I checked. He may even have been on par with Allen.Mark muttered, "NowIfeel royally fucking ripped off."Frank laughed.Our heads all swung around to stare at him. Before last week, this would have been something as out-of-place as Allen cursing."Sorry," he said. "Was that that inappropriate?""No," Donnie said in a dazed voice. "It was totally correct. Mark said something funny and you laughed.""Which makes it unusual," said Mark."Oh," said Frank. He shrugged. "I just...saw the humor in it.""Which," said Mark doggedly, "is unusual.""For me, yes," said Frank thoughtfully. "That's changed this week, too. I believe...I'm picking up on social cues better. I get more jokes, and...recognize sarcasm when I hear it. I never used to be able to do that."He licked his lips. "Outside Home Eck, Thursday...I saw Amy Haskell ask her friend, Jodi Belinsky, what was wrong. Jodi said nothing was wrong, but..." He frowned. "From the way she looked away and lowered her eyes, I could justtell,something reallywaswrong. She was lying." He let out a breath. "And I caught it."There was a stunned silence."My eyesight's perfect now," Mark said.Our heads all swiveled towards him.He tapped the glasses on his face. "These are fake. Display model from the optician. Found a pair that matched my old frames.""Same here," said Frank. Our heads swung back, like we were at a tennis match. "It happened Friday." He touched the arm of his heavy horn-rims. "Non-prescription." He'd even taped up the bridge to match his old pair."Wish I'd thought to do that," said Donnie. "My Dad keeps complaining about his reading glasses disappearing."The three of them removed their glasses in unison. It wasn't quite like Clark Kent becoming Superman, but close. With a jolt, I realized all my friends had become handsome, strapping young men. Standing naked with them reminded me of the time I'd shared the gym changing room with the Senior Boys' swim team. Those guys werebuilt.From their faces, I could tell they were all having the same revelation.Numbly, we passed the hose around and the soap followed. While the rest of us cleaned up, Jack soaped up his erection with both hands and began stroking it. Our attention snapped back to him.He cleared his throat and stared down at himself. "I could never...manage a two-handed grip before." He shrugged. "It's...kind of amazing."I felt the blood rush into my dick. Everyone else's rose up too."Yeah," I said hoarsely. "It's amazing." I lathered up my cock and balls. Everyone else did likewise. My dick responded eagerly and enthusiastically; it swelled and throbbed in my hands. To my shock, it didn't stop growing.I gasped. It had been about the same size soft, but my cock's fully erect size had increased overnightagain.I was stunned. I'd been too rushed in the shower that morning to whack off like I usually did, so this latest gift from Emily came as a complete surprise. I gaped at it. My cock was vibrant with newly-minted sensitivity; as my hands slowly stroked it, the pleasure was unusually acute. It was weird to know this huge thing was unquestionably a part of me, yet felt so unfamiliar. I wondered if Emily felt something akin to this whenever she touched her own penis.

~~~

Emily and I traded phone numbers. I spent my whole shift Saturday with the kiosk's phone tucked in the crook of my neck, chatting away as I served customers. The hours flew by. When I went to bed that night, I couldn't believe how much I missed seeing her or touching her that day. It was like some major bodily requirement like eating or sleeping hadn't been met.

I didn't know how I was going to wait until Monday to be with her again.

~~~

My family attended morning Mass every Sunday at eleven. As Mass ended, I would swap my dress shoes for my sneakers and say bye to my family. I'd split for the AV Club's pick-up point a few blocks from St. Michael's. I would still be wearing my Sunday best when Mark's van pulled up alongside me and the side door opened. They'd haul me in. As usual, Mark would slow down, but not stop. It was like an abduction.

That Sunday, as soon as I was in the van, it took everything I had not to blurt out I had an emergent girlfriend. Emily's secret was not mine to share. As it turned out, Frank had some momentous news of his own.

"Is that everyone?" he asked, craning his head around the front passenger seat.

"Yup," said Jack. Mark's folks lived even further out into the country, and Jack's place was on his way. Jack often tagged along while Mark picked up the troops. "All present and accounted for."

"Good," said Frank. "We got a parcel from Betty," he announced, producing a stack of gray cardstock booklets. "As promised, not only did she send us an updated copy of the gray book, she sent usfive.One for each of us."

He passed them around.

"It turns out Ogilvie's is just the tip of the iceberg. There are all kinds of places nearby hosting shows. There's even a bowling alley in Claryville that has after-hours shows every Wednesday."

"Hang on," Donnie said. "Did you sayClaryville?Tin Pan Allie's Bowling Lanes?"

"That's the one."

"Holy crap," Donnie sounded stunned. "WKYT shotBowling for Dollarsthere all last summer."

Donnie had been a junior championship bowler before cars and dickgirls took over his adolescence. He still followed the sport on TV whenever he could.

"Not just that," said Mark. "Claryville's even closer than Alexandria."

There was an excited hubbub. Mark's voice rose above it. "Who's performing this week?"

Frank checked his notebook. "Someone called Scarlett Thunder."

None of us recognized the name. Jack chuckled. "Sounds like something out of Robert E. Howard."

Jack gravitated toward the sexier and gorier end of heroic fantasy and sci-fi. The rest of us were more into Asimov, Herbert and Tolkien.

Mark's hand went up. "Motion to go bowling this Wednesday?"

Donnie's hand shot up. "Seconded!"

"Any opposed?" asked Jack. Everybody looked at me. I didn't blame them. The old me would have had plenty to say about crossing state lines on a school night to go to an unproven venue. I just smiled and examined my copy of the gray book.

From the outside it looked like an old-fashioned farmer's almanac. The cover had a black-and-white picture of a convertible cresting a hill. There was a happy motorist behind the wheel, waving. The title,The Official Travel & Event Guide of the American Sausage-Makers Association,was rendered in a jaunty, county-fairground typeface.

"Motion carried," said Jack. He waved his copy of the gray book in the air. "Woo-hoo!"

~~~

When we all piled out of the van at Jack's place, I noticed Donnie hadn't brought any beer with him. Usually, he'd have four or five six-packs.

"We drinking anything today, Donnie?" I asked.

He grinned. "Couple big pitchers of lemonade. Which I brought mix for. As far as intoxicants go, this week we're trying something different." He pulled out a baggie of ready-rolled reefers.

Frank brightened. "Oh, excellent."

Mark stared. "Where the hell did you get those?"

"Linda Carruthers sold 'em to me."

I stared at Donnie. "Since when do you talk to Linda Carruthers?"

Jack was staring at him too. "Is that what you spent the beer money on?"

"Yes," Donnie said to Jack. "It was actually cheaper. And I didn't have to risk a fake ID at Perskey's."

He turned to me. "We started talking Tuesday."

"How didthathappen?" Mark asked him as we filed up onto Jack's porch.

Donnie leaned against the railing. "It was after Economics. She was talking with those friends of hers from Drama Club. They were rapping about Vietnam."

"Oh shit," said Mark. Linda and her friends had some very public opinions about the war and the soldiers waging it.Baby-killerswas one of the more polite terms they used.

Donnie shrugged. "So anyway, I heard her talk some shit, and...I just stopped. I walked up to her and said, hi, my name's Donnie Corso, my brother Richie's over there, and he isn't any kind of thug or killer. He's a baker and a baker's son, and right now he's scared shitless. So are his folks. And I don't mean to be rude, but what you're saying doesn't help."

There was a brief, dumbfounded silence.

"Wow," said Mark. He looked a little mind-boggled. As did we all. "How didthatgo over?"

Donnie shrugged. "They were kinda stunned. I didn't know what else to say, so I just walked away. Couple hours later, Linda came up to me in the library. She was pretty apologetic. Said she didn't know anyone who had family over there." He shrugged again. "Apparently, I gave her something to think about. We talked about Richie's situation for a while. I told her what he'd told us about Vietnam over the phone."

"You can call home from the war?" asked Frank.

Donnie nodded. "They use some kind of radio relay, supported by local ham operators stateside. He can't just dial us up, he's gotta sign up for a phone appointment."

"WhatdidRichie tell you?" asked Jack.

"Basically," said Donnie, "sweltering hot. Also, bad food, bad smells and having no idea what's going on. And violent stuff happening, like, all the time."

He paused. "She was...really interested. Said she was against the war, but never had a real conversation with anyone personally affected by it. I told her I was against the war too, but I still wanted my brother to come home in one piece. She asked me if I'd ever smoked grass. I said yeah, it was a great time."

"Understatement," said Mark drily.

"I think that surprised her a little. Anyway, she invited me to smoke up with her friends under the bleachers after school. I went."

"So you're hanging out with the Drama Club now?" asked Jack.

Donnie shrugged once more. "They're nerds too, in a way. The way they dig this guy Bertolt Brecht, it's like Allen withDune."

"Hardly," Jack said tartly. "You don't seethemgetting toilet swirlies."

"Well," said Donnie diplomatically, "with us, it's science and dickgirls. With them, it's politics and art."

"By that way of thinking," said Frank, "jocks are just sports nerds."

We all burst out laughing.

"No,"said Mark, his voice filling with the righteous indignation of a civil rights orator. "I'm sorry, butthatis where I draw the line. I willnotallow our struggle to be so denigrated."

Donnie laughed. "Zip it, Radakovic."

"We havesuffered,sir,too much,to allow jocks to appropriate our very i-dentity."

We all laughed harder. Amazingly, Frank chuckled a bit, too. "I wasn't trying to be funny," he said. "But I kind of see how that worked."

Mark stopped abruptly and gave him a suspicious look.

"Anyway," chuckled Jack, "if we're gonna smoke this stuff, we gotta go out back. No pot smoking in the house. Mark's van still smells like an opium den."

Frank said, "I'm pretty sure there was no opium in Claire's marijuana, but I see your point."

Mark gave Frank an even more suspicious look, but for once, kept it zipped.

~~~

"Hmm," mused Frank. "I think this marijuana might be better than Claire's."

He took another deep drag and passed the reefer to me. I sucked in a mouthful and then carefully breathed it down. I held it for a few seconds and then exhaled a plume of funky-smelling smoke. It was a warm, still day and Jack's backyard had quite the blanket of haze overhead, now. That mellow, weirdly cheerful buzz intensified. I felt lightheaded. I passed it to Donnie.

"That's...really good stuff," I said. I couldn't seem to stop blinking.

"I agree," said Donnie, taking a puff. "Then again, she can afford it."

"True," I said. The Carruthers were old money in this county. "Where does she get it, I wonder? The grass, I mean, not the money."

"Her cousins," said Donnie. He passed it to Mark. "Botany majors at Kent State. They grow it."

"That's handy," said Mark, taking a drag. "Oh crap, there it goes again." The joint went out. He brought out a lighter and held the tip over the flame. The end glowed red again, and he quickly took another pull. "There we go."

"Apparently," said Donnie, clearing his throat with a little cough, "the trick is to remove the males."

"Say again?" I asked.

"The male pot plants. It's the female ones that get you high. If you don't let the males pollinate them, the potency of the buds doubles, even quadruples."

"How do you get more plants, then?" asked Jack. "If the females don't reproduce."

"They set aside one female to be a mother and hand-pollinate it. It gives 'em all the seeds they need."

"Wait a minute," said Mark. "Why dounfertilizedfemales produce stronger pot?"

Frank coughed. "Because their flowers are reproductive." His deep voice naturally fell into a lecturer's cadence. "The flowering buds of female cannabis sativa produce a sticky resin to catch pollen. If a female isn't fertilized by the time it reaches maturity, it automatically starts producing more of that resin to better its reproductive chances. In certain strains, that resin is pharmacologically active." He shrugged. "More resin, more potency."

"Hang on," said Jack. "Cannabis sativa?Indianhemp?"

Mark said, "The stuff they makeropeout of? That'spot?"

"Yes," said Donnie and Frank at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled.

"I drove Frank over to the big reference library in Mount Orab yesterday," explained Donnie. "We looked it all up."

"I was curious about it," said Frank. "I found the experience with Claire's marijuana intriguing. I found some fascinating research papers from Israel. The active ingredient is apparently called delta-9 tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC. As far as psychedelic experiences go, though, I much prefer emergent sperm."

"As do we all, I imagine," I said owlishly, to general murmurs of agreement. I noticed Jack was dragging pretty deeply on what was left of the reefer. After a few trips around the circle, we'd smoked it down to a nub.

"Careful there, Jack," I said before I could stop myself. "Your asthma."

He made ashoo flygesture at me and calmly exhaled an impressive cloud. We were all engulfed, once again, in pine and juniper.

"Well that one's done," he said. He licked his fingertips, squeezed the nub to extinguish it, and flicked it into the weeds. He stretched. "I feel like a run."

"A what?" asked Mark.

"I've been running every morning before school," Jack said.

There was a somewhat befuddled silence at that. "Uh...why?" asked Donnie.

Jack shrugged. "At first...I just wanted to see if I could. Then...I kept doing it. Because I liked it." He balanced on one leg and jackknifed the other to stretch out his hamstrings. He went back and forth. "Come on. Last one round the cornfield makes the popcorn."

He charged away. We stared after him, then at each other. We tradedare we really doing thislooks. Then Frank let out an unselfconsciousyukof laughter and took off after him. By reflex, we followed.

I hadn't been for a run in a while. I should have been puffing and straining. Instead, my body clicked into gear like I'd been training for weeks and had a fifteen-minute warm-up. I'd never felt so powerful and co-ordinated. I found my rhythm and joined Jack at the front of the pack.

I'd been running track since eighth grade, and let me tell you, that little bastard gave me a run for my money. He had shorter legs, but they pumped like steam engines.

I glanced over my shoulder, and none of my friends were floundering. In fact, they were all coming up fast behind us. Their faces were happy and amazed.

We were all laughing like loons as we chased each other around the quarter-mile square of long-dead cornstalks. Coming around the barn, Jack and I tied for first place, while the others more or less tied for second in a big clump.

"Water," gasped Donnie. "My God, why did we do this when I already had cotton mouth?"

Jack brought the garden hose and we all drank thirstily from it. Frank splashed his face, and then stripped off his shirt.

We all stared as he splashed water on his chest to cool off.

"Frank," said Mark, "when did...thathappen?" He was pointing at Frank's torso.

Frank's body wasn't rippling with muscle, exactly, but it was considerably more defined than a week ago. He always wore bulky sweaters at school, so we'd never noticed the narrowing of his waist or the expansion of his chest and shoulders. His belly had flattened. The change wasn't as striking as it had been with Allen, but it was still impressive.

"What?" asked Frank. He looked down at himself. "Oh. Wednesday, I think. I didn't really notice until Thursday, and it was well underway by then. I think we can all expect something similar."

"Hang on," said Jack. He jogged into his house and came back with our robes over one arm, a stack of towels over the other, and a cake of soap in his fist. He dumped the towels and robes on lawn chairs.

"Just like Ogilvie's," he said with a grin. "Pass the hose, would you Frank?"

Jack quickly stripped out of his shirt and vest.

"Jesus," Donnie yelped.

Somehow, over the course of this last week, Jack's underfed skinniness had metamorphosed into lean muscularity. His biceps popped, as did his calves. His flat stomach had grown an egg basket of abdominal muscles. His shoulders had grown broader, although not as blatantly as Frank's.

He unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and shoved them down along with his briefs.

"Ta-da," he said, a little shyly.

"Jesus,"Donnie whispered.

He had grown the most between his legs. Jack's penis had become an uncircumcised python. It hung lower than Mark or Frank's.

"Hose?" Jack asked again.

"You're God-damn right that's a hose," Mark said hoarsely, staring.

"No, can you pass it to me? Frank?"

Frank passed the hose to me and I passed it to Jack. None of us took our eyes off Jack for a second. There was a wiry strength about him, now. He hosed himself off and the rest of us began taking off our sweaty clothes.

All of my friends revealed similar muscular development. Donnie, in particular, resembled a Charles Atlas ad from the comic books. But then again, he had the most physically demanding shit-job of all of us. He worked as a part-time mechanic for Mark's Dad at Radakovic Auto Repair and Collision. When he took his boxers off, a snake dropped down that was every bit as long as Jack's.

"Damn," I breathed. We all looked around at each other.

Jack lathered himself up and then passed the soap to Mark. Us staring at him, particularly his dick, didn't seem to bother him at all.

In fact, his dick began rising. It rose fast, almost springing into a proudly up-curved stance. He looked down at it, then at us, and gave us a helpless kind of shrug.

"Shit,"I whispered. Jack's cock was bigger than Frank's. It was bigger than mine, last I checked. He may even have been on par with Allen.

Mark muttered, "NowIfeel royally fucking ripped off."

Frank laughed.

Our heads all swung around to stare at him. Before last week, this would have been something as out-of-place as Allen cursing.

"Sorry," he said. "Was that that inappropriate?"

"No," Donnie said in a dazed voice. "It was totally correct. Mark said something funny and you laughed."

"Which makes it unusual," said Mark.

"Oh," said Frank. He shrugged. "I just...saw the humor in it."

"Which," said Mark doggedly, "is unusual."

"For me, yes," said Frank thoughtfully. "That's changed this week, too. I believe...I'm picking up on social cues better. I get more jokes, and...recognize sarcasm when I hear it. I never used to be able to do that."

He licked his lips. "Outside Home Eck, Thursday...I saw Amy Haskell ask her friend, Jodi Belinsky, what was wrong. Jodi said nothing was wrong, but..." He frowned. "From the way she looked away and lowered her eyes, I could justtell,something reallywaswrong. She was lying." He let out a breath. "And I caught it."

There was a stunned silence.

"My eyesight's perfect now," Mark said.

Our heads all swiveled towards him.

He tapped the glasses on his face. "These are fake. Display model from the optician. Found a pair that matched my old frames."

"Same here," said Frank. Our heads swung back, like we were at a tennis match. "It happened Friday." He touched the arm of his heavy horn-rims. "Non-prescription." He'd even taped up the bridge to match his old pair.

"Wish I'd thought to do that," said Donnie. "My Dad keeps complaining about his reading glasses disappearing."

The three of them removed their glasses in unison. It wasn't quite like Clark Kent becoming Superman, but close. With a jolt, I realized all my friends had become handsome, strapping young men. Standing naked with them reminded me of the time I'd shared the gym changing room with the Senior Boys' swim team. Those guys werebuilt.

From their faces, I could tell they were all having the same revelation.

Numbly, we passed the hose around and the soap followed. While the rest of us cleaned up, Jack soaped up his erection with both hands and began stroking it. Our attention snapped back to him.

He cleared his throat and stared down at himself. "I could never...manage a two-handed grip before." He shrugged. "It's...kind of amazing."

I felt the blood rush into my dick. Everyone else's rose up too.

"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "It's amazing." I lathered up my cock and balls. Everyone else did likewise. My dick responded eagerly and enthusiastically; it swelled and throbbed in my hands. To my shock, it didn't stop growing.

I gasped. It had been about the same size soft, but my cock's fully erect size had increased overnightagain.I was stunned. I'd been too rushed in the shower that morning to whack off like I usually did, so this latest gift from Emily came as a complete surprise. I gaped at it. My cock was vibrant with newly-minted sensitivity; as my hands slowly stroked it, the pleasure was unusually acute. It was weird to know this huge thing was unquestionably a part of me, yet felt so unfamiliar. I wondered if Emily felt something akin to this whenever she touched her own penis.

The A.V. Club Ch. 09

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