The A.V. Club - Chapter 22

A Novel by J. K. Ermon (jokermon)

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Soft Plague

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.

~~~

There was a tap on my bedroom door Saturday evening at seven-thirty. Dinner had been uneventful, if not particularly delicious, and I was clearing my mind studying.

"Yeah?" I called out.

"It's me," Alison replied. "We need to talk."

"Come in," I said, and she did. She was holding my tartan thermos.

"I need a refill," she said. She handed it to me. Sure enough, the jug was empty.

"You're going through that stuff pretty quickly," I said. "I told you to take it easy."

"I didn't chug it all in one day, Grandad," she said. "Just at mealtimes. And snack-times."

I looked at her. Alison's complexion was good, but she'd always been luckier than me in that respect. There was a distinct flush of health and an upbeat tone about her that was new, however. Her hair was more lustrous and her eyes were brighter. Her boobs didn't look any bigger, but it was still a little early for that.

I thought of my redheaded dickgirl friend in Buckner, Andrea Betts. I wondered if my kid sister ever worried about catching Seahag. I hefted the empty thermos; if she kept chugging back the J-juice like that, she'd never have to worry about that, ever.

"Okay," I said. "I'll have more for you tomorrow."

She opened her mouth, and I could already hear her comeback: See that you do, dorkface.

"Thanks," she said instead. She turned to go. "Oh, Mom says that guy you like is coming on PBS at eight."

"Which guy?"

"I don't know, she didn't say."

"Thank you," I said. "That's very helpful."

She rolled her eyes. "You're welcome, dorkface."

~~~

When Between the Headlines came on at eight, the 'guy I like' turned out to be the Canadian communications professor, Marshall McLuhan.

"All right," I exclaimed, plunking myself down in my dad's chair. This would be a rare treat.

The interviewer asked McLuhan right off the bat what he considered to be the greatest inventions in human history. He rhymed them off right away: the wheel, written language, the printing press and the electromagnetic circuit.

"The wheel allowed our primitive forebears to extend our capabilities in physical space." As always, his speaking voice was dry, polished and weirdly noncommittal, as though he were discussing the weather. "For the first time, we could travel further than our feet could take us, and carry more than our backs could bear. Written language allowed us to extend our memories, via the external storage of data. Amassing previously unimaginable stores of information - libraries - became possible. We were even able to conquer time, after a fashion - writing down our ideas, or even literally carving them in stone, allowed our intellectual products to extend beyond our own lifetimes."

The man spoke in dense syllogisms that were pure brain candy for me. He was an anarchic and delightfully intellectual shot in the arm to the dumbed-down world of sixties television.

"The printing press," he went on, "allowed for more than just the rapid dissemination of information. It created national identities. For the first time, nations had an informed reading public. People read and wrote about their shared concerns and fears. Publics discovering their commonality of experience, that quickly, only became possible in the Gutenberg age."

My mother looked up from her Agatha Christie. "I don't know what you see in this man, Bobby. I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Shh," I said. Mom and I had the living room to ourselves. Alison was yakking on the phone in the kitchen while Dad was in the basement making one of his topographical sand tables of the county. It was work-related, but also one of his hobbies. My siblings and I were expressly forbidden from going down there while he was working on them.

Professor McLuhan was still holding forth. "Modern electronics allow us to conquer both space and time in an even more profound way. It has made the Gutenberg communication revolution both worldwide and instantaneous. The national reading public has become a global viewing public. A true global village."

I hung on his every word. I was a little bummed Alison was hogging the phone. I would have liked to have called Emily or Frank (Donnie, Jack and Mark were all working) and let them know McLuhan was on, but I didn't want to miss a second of this.

The interview ranged over several topics, and the format allowed him to answer at length. It was great. The host asked about McLuhan's concepts of 'hot' versus 'cool' media and he obliged.

"A hot medium, like movies or print, comes with a great deal of sensory information baked in, whereas a cool medium, like the telephone or the telegraph, requires the user to 'cook' more of the sensory content in for themselves."

"How would you respond to critics calling your ideas subversive?"

"I would disagree. I don't believe I'm subverting anything. And truly subversive ideas tend inspire silence rather than debate."

From there, it went on to a discussion of the nature of what different cultures consider subversive, or taboo. The interviewer put forth that the tenets of the radical Left were America's biggest taboo at the moment, and pointed out the recent riots in New York and on the West coast to prove it.

That's when McLuhan dropped his bomb.

"I would disagree," he said in his matter-of-fact tone. "The most taboo subject in America today manifestly isn't communism or civil rights, but rather Acquired Xenogenic Andromorphism."

My jaw dropped, and so did the interviewer's. His professional demeanor went with it.

"Seahag Syndrome?" he squawked, agog.

"Of course," McLuhan said in his usual imperturbable fashion. "Here we have a condition that affects over one-and-a-half million women and girls at last count, and yet, receives no attention in the newspapers nor any other news media. It's incredible. And it receives no attention from the scientific community, either. After twenty-five years of inconclusive research, they have, more or less, thrown in the towel. No one is investigating AXA these days."

"Well," stammered the host, "it's hardly considered a fit subject for serious... consideration. It's um, not a life-threatening condition."

"Yes, but it is a life-altering condition, and surely not just for the women who have it, but the people around them as well. I am very curious as to how these communities adapt to their presence. There is no way their impact could not have been profound."

"Hardly that," said the interviewer quickly. "These are simply women with a... condition. It's inconvenient to them, of course, but no one is dying from it."

"And yet," answered McLuhan, "aside from some very fringe pornography and the tawdrier tabloids, there is no mention of it in any American media. This is doubly telling when it is clearly a topic ripe for sensationalism. It is a phenomenon that is both ubiquitous and invisible in Middle America. It's fascinating - a widespread affliction that no one talks about. A plague that everyone seems content to ignore. A soft plague."

That phrase - soft plague - resonated with me. I got chills.

"Perhaps," struggled the host, looking very much like he wished he was elsewhere, "they don't talk about it because there's nothing to say. The women who have it simply go about their lives as best they can. Despite their unique... handicap."

"But then why all these restrictions? The so-called Jane Grow laws. If these are just ordinary women with a handicap, as you say, surely there is no reason to prohibit them access to the full range of opportunities other women have."

"You raise some very interesting points, professor." The interviewer was holding a hand to his ear, clearly listening to a producer on his earpiece. "However, seeing as our time is limited, I'd like to steer us back to some points you made in your book Understanding Media, about format versus content."

"Certainly," McLuhan said amiably.

They discussed media and messages for the next ten minutes, bringing the hour-long program to a close.

"Well," said the host, looking noticeably relieved, "that's all the time we have for tonight's episode of Between the Headlines. I'd like to thank Professor McLuhan for a stimulating and informative conversation."

"You're very welcome," McLuhan said politely. "Thank you."

The station cut to the next program, a Boston Pops concert.

I continued to stare at the screen for a few moments without really looking. I was stunned.

"They pulled the plug," I said wonderingly.

My mother looked up from her book. "I beg your pardon?"

"Professor McLuhan was talking about..." I caught myself before I said dickgirls to my mother. "Never mind. It was a good show."

"That's nice, Bobby, I'm glad you liked it." She was already back in her book.

I was buzzing. I looked towards the kitchen. Alison was still talking. I wanted to call my friends, but I couldn't commandeer the phone without explaining why. I shot to my feet.

"I'm heading out for a drive. I'll be back soon."

"That's fine, dear," she said without looking up from Ordeal by Innocence.

~~~

I drove out to Caruso's Pizzeria and Italian Bakery. It was a two-storey building sitting on its own out on county road 232 near the township line. Donnie and his family lived on the second floor.

It was Saturday night, and the place was packed. Chattering working-class families in casual shirtsleeves stuffed the booths while teenagers on dates sat at small round tables with red-check tablecloths. I looked around but Donnie was not in sight. I guessed they had him working in the kitchen.

Around a corner from the main dining area there was a pay phone by the restrooms. Travel posters of Rome and the leaning tower of Pisa flanked it. I dropped a dime in the slot and dialed Frank's number.

"'Ello?" It was Frank's dad. His parents had thick deep-woods Louisianan accents. They were authentic Cajuns who came up north to take jobs at the big Indian Creek distillery in nearby Bethel. One of the managers was a cousin on his dad's side. Frank grew up fluent in French. It was another reason the local jackasses called him Frog Boy.

"Hello Mr. Audette. It's Bobby. Is Frank around?"

"Ey Bobby." He always pronounced it Bob-bee. "Yuh, he here. One moment." Unh momaun.

Frank came on and blurted out, "Bobby, did you see Between the Headlines tonight?"

"That's what I was calling you about. I'm amazed they broadcast it."

"It was live. They had no choice. Did you see how the host received instructions to derail the AXA conversation?"

"Wow, you caught that?"

"I'm not blind." He paused. "Though I understand how that might surprise you."

"How did you even know Marshall McLuhan would be on? I only found out at the last minute."

"You do know that TV guides exist, correct?"

"Sorry, did I call Mark by mistake?"

"Hilarious," Frank said dryly. "I always read mine cover-to-cover. You should too. That way you can plan your TV hours accordingly."

"You really do that?"

"Sure. I budget five hours per week for television."

I blinked. "That's less than half an hour a day."

"Well, I only watch the news, Between the Headlines and Star Trek. And maybe a rerun of The Twilight Zone if it's on."

I thought of something. "Do you think McLuhan knew what he was doing? I mean, he must have known he was stirring up a hornets' nest by mentioning Seahag."

"It's possible, but just as likely he didn't know. He's a foreigner, after all. That's why I never miss 'Headlines. Their live format allows for some hilarious stuff. About a year ago Norman Mailer lost his temper on air and swore at the host for three minutes straight."

"Wow."

I remembered why I called. "Anyway, did you hear what McLuhan called Seahag Syndrome?"

"The 'soft plague,' yes. An evocative, if somewhat inaccurate title."

"Whaddeya mean?"

"More often than not, Dickgirls are hard."

I brayed laughter into the phone. Part of it was how keyed-up I was, part of it was how surprising it was to hear that from Frank.

To clarify: what Frank and I had just witnessed had never happened once in our lifetimes. A well-respected television pundit had not only addressed Seahag Syndrome live on air, but also criticized the Jane Grow laws on humanitarian grounds. This was unheard-of. That and Joint magazine defying the censors made me feel like the world was changing around me, and in some pretty momentous ways. I could almost feel it shifting under my feet. It was disorienting and thrilling. I felt like whooping and hollering and dancing.

I saw Donnie walk past the mouth of the corridor, wearing his busboy's whites. I waved. "Donnie!"

He looked up, saw me and came over.

"What's up?" he asked. "And please don't tell me you've got more bad news."

I shook my head. "The opposite. Check this out, Marshall McLuhan was on Behind the Headlines tonight." I lowered my voice. "He talked about dickgirls."

"What?" Donnie's eyes went wide with shock. Now that he wasn't wearing those thick lenses anymore, I could actually see his eyes. They were deep brown and flecked with tan around the pupil. "No way."

"The host changed the subject pretty quick," I said. "But not before McLuhan criticized Jane Grow."

"You're shitting me," Donnie exclaimed.

I could hear Frank squawking through the handset. I lifted it.

"Sorry," I told him. "Here's Donnie." I handed Donnie the phone. "It's Frank."

"Frank, hi," said Donnie. I could hear the yammering in his ear. Knowing Frank, he was probably recounting McLuhan's words verbatim. His memory is that good.

"You're shitting me," Donnie exclaimed again. "The soft plague?"

I nodded and grinned as Frank's yammering grew emphatic.

"Damn," said Donnie. "I can't believe I missed that."

I thought of something. "Is Mark here?"

Donnie shook his head. "Out on deliveries. But he only had a couple, he should be back soon." Frank buzzed in Donnie's ear. "What? Okay, I'll ask him." He looked at me. "Frank wants to know if you can pick him up and bring him here."

"Sure," I said.

~~~

Frank's home, like Jack's, sat at the end of a winding dirt road. Unlike Jack's, it wasn't so far into the boonies that he couldn't ride his bike to and from school and work. Caruso's was out of his range.

The Audette house started life as a single-story shack back in the forties. It had been added onto many times over the years. Extensions and renovations were a shared family obsession; every spring and fall there would be a renewed burst of construction. It was still a bungalow, but now it sprawled. It had wings and decks in every direction. I knew for a fact the place was structurally sound (Frank's family were capable), but it still looked ramshackle as hell.

The house, and all its apparently haphazard additions, were why the Audettes were politely regarded by some as eccentric, and less politely regarded by others as batshit crazy. When they came up from Louisiana they never fully integrated into their new environs and mostly kept to themselves. It was a shame. They were nice people. They were nothing but friendly and hospitable to me and all of Frank's other friends and his mom's cooking was fantastic, if a tad spicy.

Frank was waiting out front next to his family's two pickups. He broke into a jog the second the bananamobile turned the last s-bend and came into the yard.

I reached over and opened the door for him and he practically leaped inside.

I'd never seen him so energized. "I called your house ten times after the show," he said. "I kept getting a busy signal."

"Alison," I said with a shrug. "Running up Mom and Dad's phone bill, as usual."

He looked disapproving. "You should talk to her about that."

I laughed. "Maybe you should try. I'm sure she'd listen to you."

"I don't think that would be my place."

I grinned. Frank failing to recognize sarcasm made me feel like the world was stable and understood.

~~~

When Frank and I got back to Caruso's, the Beast was parked out front. Mark had finished his current round of deliveries. He and Donnie were having an animated conversation at the side of the building.

Frank and I hopped out and joined them. Mark had a stunned expression as he turned to face us.

"Did McLuhan really say 'dickgirls' live on air?"

"What?" I yelped. "No."

"I didn't say he said it," said Donnie. "I just said he mentioned them."

"He did more than mention them," said Frank. "He brought them up as a major point he was making about the nature of cultural taboos."

"Yeah," I chortled. "And the host looked like he was about to shit kittens."

"Well if he didn't say 'dickgirls,' what did he say?" asked Mark impatiently.

"He called it the soft plague," Frank said reverently. "The way the whole dickgirl phenomenon has meshed into the social fabric of Middle America. He gave it a name."

A gleam ignited in Mark's eyes.

"I don't know what that means," he said. "But it sounds awesome."

"It might have been a backhanded reference to William S. Burroughs' novel The Soft Machine," noted Donnie. "I wonder if that's what McLuhan had in mind."

"But what does it mean?" asked Mark.

"The 'soft machine' was a metaphor for the human body," said Donnie. "It's a really weird book."

"No," said Mark impatiently, "what the hell does 'soft plague' mean?"

"Supposedly," I explained, "Seahag Syndrome is this big blight upon the land. At least, that's the official position. But it's a blight no one's keen to resolve." I shrugged. "A soft plague."

"It totally describes the way dickgirls have quietly become subsumed into our society and culture," said Frank excitedly. "By the outlaw sub-culture that's formed around them. Officially frowned upon, but socially accepted... conditionally. This is the first time anyone has addressed that on national television."

"Wow." Mark looked a little overwhelmed. "Times really are a-changing, huh?"

I could tell he had that same sense of the world shifting under his feet that I did. I nodded. "Big time."

"Jack needs to know this," said Donnie abruptly.

"He works until midnight, Saturdays," said Mark. "They always make him stay for clean-up after the late show."

"And you got more deliveries waiting in there." Donnie nodded toward Caruso's. "I'm bussing tables til at least eleven."

"No problem," I said, clapping Frank on the shoulder. "We'll come in and wait with you."

~~~

Frank and I got a booth. We split a large pizza and slowly ate our way through it as we talked. Every now and again Donnie would come by and chat with us as he cleared tables.

As the big decorative Leaning Tower of Pisa clock on the wall inched along, the restaurant slowly emptied. By ten-forty-five, Frank and I were the last patrons. We helped Donnie and Mark with the clean-up and then headed out for the Admiral. Mark, Donnie and Frank went in the Beast while I followed in the bananamobile.

Like before, we parked in the alley behind the theater. This time, we footed it right to the big double emergency exit doors. They were always unlocked during the cinema's operating hours (by law), but there were no door handles on our side.

This wasn't a problem for us. Long ago, Allen had the ingenious idea to weld a large magnet to a steel-handled hammer in Shop class. We kept it hidden behind the dumpster. Donnie retrieved it, stuck the magnet to one of the big metal doors, and pulled on the handle. The door opened as neatly as you please.

It opened to a service corridor and we went inside. We could hear the movie from the main theater. It was the big scene towards the end of Thoroughly Modern Millie when the Chinese fireworks factory blows up. There was another set of double doors leading into the theater itself. Further along the service corridor was the employee changing room. We headed there.

As we hoped, Jack was in the changing room. He wasn't alone, however. There was a woman in there with him and she was on her knees in front of him. I could hear the sucking sounds even over the loud explosions from the theater.

I stopped short, barely remembering to throw up a hand to halt the others before they all piled into me like an old-timey Keystone Kops bit. I carefully moved to the far side of the doorway and cautioned the others to silence. They all stuck their heads around the door jamb to take a look.

Jack hadn't noticed us yet. He was leaning against the lockers and staring down at her. He was still wearing his dorky red usher uniform, pillbox cap and all. She was sucking him off through his open fly. The woman was wearing a billowy orange sundress with a floral print. She had her back to the doorway, but I still recognized that lustrous head of silvery-white waves. It was Gladys Nessman.

Neither of them had heard our approach over the amplified sounds of detonating fireworks. I glanced at my friends and they were all trading wild-eyed looks.

I leaned over. "Think of Emily," I whispered. "Think of dickgirls."

Donnie and Mark gave me baffled looks, but Frank got it right away. He closed his eyes and immediately that startling aura of potency and confidence began to shine from him. The crotch of his trousers inflated. Donnie and Mark gaped at him, and then down at his burgeoning hard-on. They finally clued in and did likewise. They both relaxed as their cores ignited. I did the same. I was immediately calm and horny and in control.

We all watched Gladys' head bob and twist. We listened to her slurping and murmuring. From Jack's rapidly changing expressions, we could tell she was getting him there fast.

"Oh, that's it," crooned Jack. "Suck it, you dirty old bitch..."

It was nice to know Jack was consistent when it came to talking dirty to his sexual partners. He couldn't seem to help himself. He was lucky he was so pretty. From him, it sounded precocious and adorable. Besides, he spoke so sweetly and needily that there was no way of us could take offense.

"Oh! Swallow! Ungh!"

Gladys moaned and gulped. She had gotten him there. Jack let out a series of moans as she sucked it all out of him. They were surprisingly high-pitched and boyish-sounding.

"Oh yeah," he sighed. Then he looked up and saw us. His jaw dropped and I put a finger to my lips. I thought harder of Emily so he could really see my core. His surprise faded and a disbelieving grin split his face.

The employee changing room had the same deep red carpet that the Admiral had everywhere. I made sure to make no sound as I stepped inside. I even turned sideways so I wouldn't displace as much air and alert Gladys with a draft.

My friends followed me. We all stood facing the two of them in a rough semicircle.

"Would you like me to continue?" Gladys asked Jack in a warm, motherly purr. She was stroking his undaunted pole and kissing its tip. "Or would you like to do something else?"

I had another rail-splitting erection. I glanced at my friends and unzipped. They did the same. Soon all our boughs were swaying in the Admiral's air-conditioned, pine-scented atmosphere.

"I'd like something else," Jack said. "But first... I think you should meet some of my friends."

Gladys finally sensed our presence. She looked over her shoulder and gasped at the sight of us, which became a weird double gasp when she recognized me.

My friends looked almost as surprised. "Missus... Nessman?" Donnie gawked.

She glanced at him, then down at his long waving member, and then back at me.

"Hello, Gladys," I said. I stepped forward. "I see you've met my friend Jack."

"Gladys?" whispered Mark incredulously.

She closed her eyes and let out a wheezy sigh.

"Ohh, I might've known you two were connected. He was... beautiful in the same way you are." She patted his red-slacked thigh. "I saw him in this cute outfit and I couldn't keep my hands off of him."

Cute outfit? I always thought Jack's job was the worst because of that stupid uniform. Frank's job was more taxing physically, but at least he didn't have to do it dressed like an organ-grinder's monkey.

Then I noticed, for the first time, how well Jack filled out his uniform now. It used to be baggy on him. Now his taller, newly muscular body wore it proudly. It emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. It actually looked dashing. The slacks were particularly tight. I imagined when they were zipped up, they showed off the big bulge at his crotch quite nicely.

Gladys opened her eyes and they shone as they drank in the sight of all our hard dicks.

"Oh, my. Oh, what a night this is becoming."

I moved forward again and swung my meaty prick back and forth under her nose. Her nostrils flexed and her lips parted. She moistened them with her tongue. They gleamed. I put my hand on the back of her head and guided her to my penis. She willingly took it into her mouth.

I could tell Emily had been giving her more lessons. My eyes closed to slits as her head swooped down and her lips slid over my shaft like wet paint rollers. I could hear my friends draw in shocked breaths as her face pressed into my pubes and her chin nuzzled my balls.

The constriction of her throat felt divine. She swallowed around me - another Emily trick - and the pressure made me grunt. She pulled back, wrapped both hands around my club, and proceeded to suck me to a grand eruption. I totally lost my cool at the end and was babbling and moaning like an idiot as I shot off in her mouth. She was that good.

Nice lady that she was, she didn't stop after I did, and seemed content to keep sucking me to another orgasm. I knew our time here was limited, however. The movie was almost over and soon the other employees would be punching out and coming here to change for home.

I gently pulled her head off my prick. She moaned in protest, but only until I directed her head toward Frank's cock, the one immediately next to mine. Her moan turned hungry as she dove down on him.

Frank gasped and gaped down at this lovely silver-haired woman eagerly and skillfully fellating him. It was always a treat to see him get so wide-eyed and lively.

Gladys happily gorged herself on his thick prong. When she drew up to his fat glans, she slapped it silly with her tongue while giving him an impish smile that made her look Alison's age. She tongue-probed his urethra and her eyes crinkled at his resultant shudder.

She sucked him off with great efficiency. She did it with a surprising amount of style, too, stroking his cock with one hand while fondling his billiard balls with the other. She made encouraging noises. When she extended a finger to tickle his perineum, that did the trick.

"Oof!"

He blasted off in her mouth with the kind of force I'd only ever seen him display with the emergent. His back arched and his hips and thighs jolted.

Gladys made it look effortless. She swallowed all of his heroic spurts without fumbling a one. When he was done firing, she pulled his big dick out of her mouth and squeezed it hard with both hands. When a final pearl swelled up in his slit, she licked it away with a coo.

Donnie was next, and then Mark. Both were very excited and neither lasted long. She quickly brought them to climax and gulped down their floods with lusty aplomb.

Gladys sat back after finishing off Mark with a kiss on his knob.

"Why," she panted, "do you boys taste so good?"

Frank answered before I could.

"Because we all have sex with dickgirls."

She gave him a popeyed look. She wasn't the only one. I couldn't believe he just blurted out our greatest secret like that. The others were gaping at him too.

What Gladys said next really floored them:

"You too?" she asked.

~~~

I had to come clean with Gladys after that. I confessed everything while we waited for Jack in the back alley by the Beast. I told her I still went to Grant High and that Emily was my girlfriend. I also gave her an abbreviated history of the AVC and our affinity for all things sausage.

"My oh my," she said, shaking her head. "I would never have thought you were a high school boy from the way you... carry yourself. Never mind one from the school where I taught."

"Taught?" asked Donnie.

"I retired," she answered. "As of yesterday."

"Wow," blurted out Mark. "We thought you'd never retire."

She shook her head and smiled. "Teenagers. Always need things to be so dramatic. I'm sixty-seven, not ninety."

"You just... quit? Like that?" asked Donnie. "You can do that?"

She nodded. "There will be no farewell assembly, no big to-do." She let out a happy sigh. "I can't tell you how much... lighter I feel now." She chuckled. "I am looking forward to sleeping in very late Monday morning."

I had never seen her so relaxed and easygoing in the company of kids our age. She was happy, even chatty.

"And what then?" I asked. "What will you do?"

"Well, I have an excellent pension with a lovely benefits package. I think I'll travel for a bit. I haven't really made any firm plans."

"Why did you wait so long to retire?" asked Frank.

She was quiet for a moment. "I was frightened, I think. I was so used to the routine of teaching. I kept telling myself that I wasn't ready for my career to be over yet, but really, I had no idea how to fill the days without it. It scared the pants off me."

She laughed. "Listen to me. A month ago I never would have dreamed being able to be so forthcoming with a bunch of boys I'd just met. Never mind the... other things."

"You don't seem afraid any more," I said.

"I'm not," she said simply. "Now I know there are so many wonderful new things to experience. I can't wait to explore the possibilities."

She ran a hand up my thigh and squeezed my crotch. My friends all started. Even after she'd had all their dicks in her mouth, the new Mrs. Nessman could still shock them.

Jack walked out in his street clothes and stopped short at the sight of Gladys fondling me.

"Hello again, Jack," she said with another impish smile. She looked really good with her hair down, I noticed again.

"Hello... Mrs. Nessman," he said.

"Oh, please." She laughed. "Gladys, please. Just Gladys. We should all be on first names, now."

"No problem, Gladys," he said with a relieved chuckle. He looked at me and the other guys. "So... what brought you guys here? I'm guessing not to see Julie Andrews for the tenth time."

"We came to see you because something momentous happened tonight," Frank said. "Marshall McLuhan was on Between the Headlines and he addressed dickgirls in America."

"He what?" Jack yelped.

"Really?" asked Gladys at the same time.

Frank and I filled them both in, with a lot of unnecessary kibbitzing from Mark and Donnie.

"Good heavens," Gladys said. "I'm starting to regret going out to the movies tonight."

Jack was agog. "He called Jane Grow oppressive?"

"Well, it is," Frank said.

"As good as," I replied. "He questioned the necessity of it."

"Jeez," Jack marveled. "Them's fightin' words."

Donnie said, "I can't wait to see what the papers have to say about this tomorrow."

"Gladys," Frank said. "You mentioned... you'd been... intimate with dickgirls yourself?"

She nodded, then looked around. "Is there... anywhere more private we could have this conversation?"

"Sure," Mark said. He opened the Beast's rear doors. "Right in here."

We stepped up to the doors and a waft of freshly delivered pizzas rolled over us.

"Oh, that's... delicious," Gladys said. Without hesitation she hopped up into the belly of the Beast. She was surprisingly nimble. The rest of us followed.

Mark clambered up front and put the keys in the ignition. The lights came on. We all settled ourselves on the beanbags.

~~~

"Ollie," she said, "that's Principal Stankovic, told me over the Christmas break that we'd be getting a Hag-bred girl winter session. He didn't want it public knowledge. Nor did he want her taking classes with other students. He wanted me to handle her because she was only going to be taking Home Ec and some Crafts and Sewing courses, all of which I excel at teaching.

"I knew Hag-bred girls had a reputation. I suspected Ollie also wanted me because I was a woman, and of retirement age, and so no possibility of hanky-panky. At the time, I didn't question it. It was extra money. Also, it was only one student, which meant it was easy money.

"I didn't know what to expect. I had some vague idea I'd be dealing with some sullen promiscuous girl. I've had to deal with that type many times."

"Really?" Mark asked, perking up. "Who?"

She gave him a quiet please look that was pure schoolteacher. "Not important. What is important is that as soon as I met Emily, I realized that everything I thought I knew about the Hag-born - or the emergent, I should say - was wrong.

"Emily wasn't slutty, or disruptive. She was quiet - at first - but very smart. I could tell she wasn't happy about being stuck with Basic level courses, but she didn't know what else to do about it. She was resolved to make the best of things. It was a very mature outlook.

"Also, she wasn't the least bit lazy. You gave her an assignment and she'd zip through it. She knew how to apply herself. A lot of students never learn that until college.

"After a few classes she opened up to me. I discovered she was an absolute treat. She was a bright girl with a contagiously sunny disposition. I never had to be a disciplinarian with her, which was very refreshing. I could just talk to her like an adult.

"You have to understand, my understanding of the emergent before I met Emily was that they were defective. That's what every Board of Education in America teaches its employees. Mentally, physically and morally defective.

"Emily was none of that. She was the most honest and sweet-natured girl I'd ever taught. I looked forward to being with her. I didn't think twice about confiding in her. I told her about losing my husband, my fear of life after retirement, things I would never dream of sharing with any other student.

"And then... around a month ago, she bloomed. It was the most magical thing. It was like a previously hidden part of her opened up and spread its wings."

"Her sexuality," Frank said quietly. I blinked. Gladys nodded.

"I didn't realize that's what it was at first. When I asked her about it, she said she'd met a boy.

"Well, at first I was concerned. I felt protective of her and didn't want her being taken advantage of by any sausage joint perverts."

Jack, Donnie and Mark laughed at that. She gave them another quiet please look and they quieted, abashed.

"Emily made it very clear she trusted this boy. When she started talking about him..."

Gladys looked at me. "When she started talking about you, she would light right up. I realized then she'd caught the bug and the romantic, sexual side of her life had begun."

I felt compelled to say, "That night we met at the Fotomat... you and me... it was her idea."

"Oh," Gladys looked she might cry. "That doesn't surprise me a bit. She's such a considerate girl."

Gladys regained her composure and continued. "I could see the difference in her. There was a new depth to her, an innocent kind of... sensuality. It's hard to describe."

"Pretty sure we all know exactly what you mean," said Donnie with a smile. He was right. She had described Emily's sexual aura to a tee.

"As the days went by, she just glowed more and more. When I first met her, I thought she was cute, but somewhat plain, you know, with those chipmunk cheeks and big teeth. And those glasses! Now, I was seeing so much more to her. For the first time, I began to find her attractive. It was unsettling. Being attracted to a girl was nothing new for me, it happens to teachers all the time, but I hadn't had feelings like that in years. I became curious about what was happening with her."

Gladys looked at me.

"Bobby, I want you to know that Emily never volunteered anything about her sex life with you. She never told me anything, not until I asked."

"You asked?" I asked.

She nodded. "I fell in love with the first boy I ever dated in high school, and married him. We were together thirty-seven years. Since he died, there's been no one. Until now. When I was young, I never got to date a bunch of different boys. I wanted to know what it was like for her. Did the boy's parents know about her? Did her parents know about him?"

"No, and no," I pronounced, and my friends chuckled. Gladys smiled and nodded.

"I wanted to know what she and this boy did, sexually. How did it work with her penis? Did he touch it, or do... other things with it?"

"Yes, and yes," I said, this time Gladys laughed along with my friends.

"She said as much. I was fascinated. She wouldn't tell me anything by which I might identify you, but she was very obliging with the details. How you kissed and exchanged oral favors, and even had actual sex, both normal and anal. I couldn't believe it at first, when she told me you let her do that to you.

"Hearing about all of this was... very arousing. I think she knew that, and I think she enjoying telling me these things for that reason. Emily's a sweetheart, but there's definitely a bit of devious minx in there.

"Then, one night I saw you at the Fotomat. You seemed to... glow in the same way she did. You projected the same kind of sexually attractive quality she had, but... in a distinctively male way. I couldn't stop myself."

"Stop yourself from what?" blurted out Donnie. He was leaning forward on his bean bag.

"I propositioned him. And he was kind enough to accept."

She described, in somewhat flowery language, our first tryst at Montgomery pond. She declared my performance 'incredible,' which was a little embarrassing.

Then she divulged how we made our Thursday night meet-ups a regular thing.

"Tallboy," Mark said incredulously. "Just a second. You've been dating Gladys as well as Emily, and Marianne?"

"Marianne was a practice date," I told Mark. "And it was only once." I felt compelled to add: "And again, Emily's idea."

I couldn't help feeling like a heel letting my girlfriend take the blame like that, which was damned unfair; it really was Emily's idea.

"Bobby and I aren't really dating," said Gladys in a diplomatic tone. "We just meet for sex. But after our second meeting, I couldn't help feeling... out of my depth. Bobby seemed to know my body better than I did. He knew how to take me to heights I never knew existed. He made me do things that I never dreamed of doing, but somehow... I wanted to do them. I did them eagerly. I loved it, and he knew I would love all these nasty dirty things, that they would become a positive and empowering part of my life. But me, I had no clue. I needed to become more sexually literate, if that makes any sense."

My friends and I all nodded.

"I began talking to Emily seriously about sex. I knew she was well-versed in it. She said she could teach me about it if I wanted, but that she would have to do so in a hands-on fashion. I said yes. I was more than ready at that point."

Gladys gazed off into the distance, her eyes misty.

"That first lesson... we spent so much time kissing. I'd never done that before - romantically kissed a girl. When I was young, I'd wanted to, many times, but I never did."

My friends all looked startled at that. Gladys didn't notice. She was off in her own world.

"It... surprised me how quickly I took to it. How... excited I got. When she showed me her body, I nearly swooned. I couldn't believe how beautiful she was. Even the smell of her was intoxicating."

She licked her lips.

"She put my hands on her. It was like I'd been given the most precious gift imaginable. Her skin was like living silk. She showed me how to touch her in ways that pleased her. I was eager to learn.

"Her penis was enormous, but so is Bobby's, and I was used to it by then. I wasn't intimidated. It was beautiful, though, all pink and satiny in ways Bobby's isn't."

"True enough," I concurred faintly.

"She made me suck it." Gladys spoke like I hadn't said anything, still gazing off into that treasured memory. "It took some doing. She's bigger than Bobby, and much bigger than my husband was. I managed, though. I felt very proud. And then, when she... came, in my mouth..."

She closed her eyes, and her core briefly ignited, revealing itself in an erotic flash. In that instant, she was glamorous, gorgeous, elegant, like some silver screen goddess made flesh. Her sexuality was mature and vibrant. My friends and I all gasped.

Gladys went on, oblivious.

"I don't think I'll ever forget it," she sighed. "That first taste of her sperm. It just... sent me to the moon. I later came to understand that's normal for emergent women."

"It is," Frank agreed solemnly.

"It was like the feeling of renewal I got from being with Bobby, but... amplified. I felt relaxed, but at the same time, I had thrills running through me. It was like I'd been drugged, but I had no fear. I knew it was something natural and good.

"She had me suck her off a second time, and then... a third. It kept getting better. When she took my clothes off, I was beyond resisting. She didn't let me feel embarrassed about being naked in front of her. She touched me and used her mouth on me like Bobby had. She made me come... several times before she entered me. But when she did, the feeling was overwhelming. I came, very fast and very hard. I howled. I wept. I think I even screamed once. And then, when she came in me..."

She let a breath out slowly. Her cheeks were flushed again. I could see her pulse skipping about in her throat.

"She trained me," Gladys said. "Or rather... she taught me to become sexually literate. By giving me beautiful sexual experiences.

"Over the next week, I didn't even bother her with school work. We would meet in our portable and make love. She would incorporate different positions, introduce me to different... acts. I loved it all."

She reached over and put her hand on mine. "That other night at the motel I got to show you what I learned. It was very important to me. I felt we were meeting as equals for the first time."

"It was wonderful," I said. And it had been. Then something else occurred to me.

"You and I had the same experience with Emily," I said.

She looked at me. I pressed onwards.

"I started out as her teacher, like you did. But then... I began learning from her. And I still am."

She squeezed my hand and took a breath.

"Bobby, you asked me what I wanted to do now I've retired. Well, one thing's for sure. I want to learn a lot more about the emergent."

My friends and I all traded looks.

"What would you like to know?" asked Frank.

"Everything," she said with a twinkle. "But first..."

She let go of my hand and reached out and caressed Frank's face.

"I've never been in a van with a pack of teenage boys before. I understand... things can happen."

Again, my friends and I traded looks. Eager ones, this time.

~~~

Things did indeed happen in the van that night. Wonderful things.

She sat down in each of our laps and cuddled close. She made out with all of us, one after the other, and each of us got handsier than the last. She encouraged it. She was lustful and passionate and her kisses were delicious.

I was the first to strip, which surprised the others, but they were quick to follow. Gladys quickly had a firing squad of hard dicks pointed her way.

She stared at our naked bodies with brimming eyes.

"Oh, my God," she said hoarsely. "Why are you all so very beautiful?"

Frank said quietly, "Because we have sex with dickgirls."

Gladys moaned and laughed at the same time as she descended mouth-first upon Donnie's cock.

She sucked us all off again. She did it with avid, lustful urgency. She was able to slurp one big round out of us, and then we pounced. We pinned her to the Beast's shag carpet and stripped her. She laughed and pretended to struggle.

Her time with Emily had benefitted her greatly. Her breasts were larger, her belly firmer, and her skin sleeker than I remembered. Her wrinkles gave her character, but didn't diminish her beauty. She was pale and perfect. Donnie reverently pinched a tuft of her silvery pubic hair once she was fully bared to us.

I watched and masturbated as each of my friends slid into her. She moaned and raised her widespread legs so she could get more of each cock inside her.

"Oh, do it," she moaned. "All of you, do whatever you want to me."

We did. We gang-banged her in the back of the Beast. I delighted in seeing Gladys become a completely abandoned slut. I watched her milky body writhe as those long dicks pumped her. I watched her beautiful face clench and release in orgasm after orgasm. When I couldn't hold back anymore, I came with unbounded joy all over that ecstatic face.

When it was my turn to enter her, she was soupy-slick with my friends' hot jizz. She clutched me close, making her breasts mash into my chest. She kissed me and I tasted sperm. Her cunt squeezed and worked on me as I thrusted, and I half-moaned, half-whimpered at the sensations. She groped my buttocks and wiggled a slippery finger up my ass. I gasped and burst inside her like a liquid bottle rocket. When I pulled out, Jack was quick to take my place.

The van was bouncing on its axles. She rolled Jack onto his back and rode him. Her thighs were toned, even muscular. I watched them flex, and wanted to jerk off again. Her breasts were definitely larger, almost as big as Marianne's, and they bounced with her movements. True to form, Donnie crowded in to fondle them. Without missing a beat, she seized his big missile and stroked it.

I got the lube from my knapsack. I rubbed Gladys' asshole with an oiled finger until it glistened. Then I slipped that slippery digit inside.

I oiled her up until I felt her anus relax around my fingers. Then I slipped my dick inside.

Gladys cried out, but her body yielded to me. My dick rubbed against Jack's as I sank to the balls in her asshole. Jack and I gripped her waist and held her steady as we both crammed home every last millimeter we could.

"Oh." Her voice was filled with amazement.

We began pumping her in tandem. Our balls banged together.

"Oh!" Her voice took on a sharper, more high-pitched tone.

I rolled my hips, and Jack immediately did the same. Her insides went berserk around us, clamping and trembling.

"OH!" It came out as shriek as she hit orgasm between us with spray of vaginal fluids and full-body quakes.

~~~

We spent the next few hours like that, rocking the Beast on its shocks as we all took turns with Gladys' holes. It was a sweaty and thoroughly satisfying train-fuck for all parties. The big finish was me in her mouth, Frank in her ass, Donnie in her cunt, and Mark and Jack in each of her hands. She was a wriggling, stroking, thrusting sex machine. A soft machine, I thought wryly. The harder we pushed her, the more fearless and adventurous she became.

After that last five-on-one, though, she'd finally had enough. She cried uncle and I dug out the wet wipes. We all got as clean as we could manage.

Surprisingly, after we were all dressed, she didn't want to part company with us. She still wanted to talk dickgirls. Mark fished out one of his ever-present six-packs of Iron City and we spent another leisurely hour or sipping away and telling her everything we knew. It took about that long to give her the condensed version of Frank's Emergent Bible. She had many questions, and we were happy to address them. I even got out and ran to the trunk of my car to retrieve a couple copies of Emergent Passions for her.

Eventually, she polished off the last of her beer, burped delicately and took her leave. She gave each of us a fond beer-flavored goodnight kiss and then limped off to her Lincoln.

We watched her drive off.

"What a night," sighed Mark.

"We commemorated it well," said Frank, sounding satisfied. He lifted his can.

"To Gladys," he said.

"To Gladys," we all repeated, lifting our beers.

We drank, and then Jack raised his.

"To the soft plague."

We all chuckled, raised our cans and toasted him as one:

"The soft plague."

End of Chapter 22