Unblended Ch. 11

This continuing story is based on the setting created by icedragonmo3 in their story The Blending (located at https://www.literotica.com/s/the-blending). It contains lots of characters of intersex gender with exaggerated proportions, oral sex, anal sex, multiple cumshots, cum swallowing, polyamorous relationships, incestuous relationships, nude selfies, and discussions of questionable medicinal practices.

As always, all persons participating in sexual activities or described in a sexual manner are at least 18 years of age. All characters, locations, web sites, and scenarios presented here are a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-world people and places is coincidental.

*****

The rest of that Sunday passed quickly. After a very tasty (and expensive) luncheon at the country club, I gave Mama a ride home before my shift at Gina's. I still had questions about the club's executive suite and the apparent NBD attitude towards incest practiced therein, but I decided I needed a nap more than answers. Mama joined me, and we spent a pleasant hour snoozing in bed before I had to leave. My shift also seemed to fly by, even though it wasn't as busy as it had been the day before. Gina instructed me on the finer points of turning out dough, and I spent my spare time between prepping orders getting my eye in. By the time I went home, my technique was still rough but otherwise much improved, and I collapsed into bed after bidding my parents goodnight.

I woke up Monday morning feeling rested and fantastic, and I ended up singing through the front half of The Next Day as I got ready for school. I started "Love Is Lost" when I got downstairs, and Mama enthusiastically joined in as I made breakfast for myself. Mom sat watching us with her coffee and a wry grin, and I gave both her and Mama a quick kiss on the cheek on my way out the door. Michiko was already peeling out with Tessa in the Eight-Six, and I followed along in the Type-R.

It seemed it would be the most normal Monday I'd had in quite a long time right up until the break between second and third periods. I was at my locker switching out books in my messenger bag when I noticed Kate Baxter standing a few feet away and glaring at me. I closed the door and turned to address her.

"If this is about my delinquent class dues, I'll get you the fifty bucks. I prefer my kneecaps intact."

Kate's eyes narrowed while she suppressed a snort (at least, I think she did). After a moment more of staring at me, she nodded to herself. "You need to see something." She grabbed my hand and started dragging me down the hall towards the cafeteria. She brought us to a halt and gestured to the wall of posters. I could tell immediately which one put the bee in Kate's bonnet.

"Ah. Yeah, that's um..." I stammered, at a complete loss.

To start with, it was a very good likeness. The red, blue, and cream poster had me looking off to the side, my expression courageous and determined. I knew the source picture, as well: one of the promotional stills from the Drama Club production of Twelve Angry Men my sophomore year. The artist had aged it up a bit, making me look far more mature and distinguished than I had any right being represented. Honestly, I would have loved it were it not for the wording WAYNE FOR CLASS PRESIDENT displayed prominently at the bottom.

"This is obviously someone trying to rattle you," I said eventually. "I'm not running."

"Aren't you though?" Kate countered. Her face was a mix of anger, confusion, and a bit of intrigue indicated by a slightly raised eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I haven't filled out the paperwork or gotten any signatures. Besides, you remember what happened when Steve Halpern got enough write-in votes to win the election our freshman year!" Steve had somehow gotten half his class to write him in, even though he'd refused to do any of the work to actually run (some claptrap about "the tyranny of republican democracy"). The council disregarded all the votes he'd garnered and Principal LeBeau helpfully pointed out the exact pages in the student handbook saying they could do so. Right before she suspended him for a week when he threatened a lawsuit.

"You didn't, huh? Then why did Mrs. Adams have these?" Kate pulled something from her pocket and thrust it at me, a set of folded papers. Taking them from her, I suddenly had a nasty premonition. Sure enough, they were copies of the statement of intent and a reference sheet with something like fifty signatures on it. Both with my name on them.

"Kate, I swear, I didn't do this! Someone is setting me up! This isn't even my signature!"

"You know what? I don't care." Kate got right up in my face, and that weird, stale orange-sherbet smell hit me pretty strongly. "I am going to show everybody exactly why I deserve to be class president at the debates, and I'm going to enjoy SPITROASTING YOU ALIVE."

We stood there like that for a moment, Kate's blue-green eyes locked on mine. She seemed to be studying me intently, and I noticed her face start to soften almost exactly the same way Rhonda Harding's did the past Friday. She even had the same kind of slip with inadvertent innuendo.

"Kate, I promise, I didn't file these, and I'm not running for president. I'll go talk to Mrs. Adams and get this straightened out after school."

"Whatever." Without another word, Kate stormed off down the hall. I rolled my eyes and pulled the poster down, folding it up and throwing it into my bag before heading off. I had a feeling I knew who set me up, and she'd be in study hall with me.

Amy Hauser raised her eyebrow as she regarded the poster I laid across her desk. "It's a very good likeness."

"Yeah," I said, irritation creeping into my voice, "Mickey Beeman does awesome work. What I'd like to know is how you arranged all of this."

"What?" Amy said, her shock only mostly for show. "What makes you think I had anything to do with your running for class president?"

"Because you didn't tackle me in the halls the second I got here to get a comment. Which means you knew nothing, or you knew everything. Given that you're not interrogating me right now after 'finding out', I'm inclined to the latter."

Amy's eyes widened as she mouthed god damn it to herself. "Okay, yes, Jamie and I did it. But come on! The student body needs this!"

"You got Jamie involved?!"

She winced. "I might have told her you asked me for help. She got the signatures, I filled out the paperwork and turned it in for you. I thought Mrs. Adams was gonna call me on forging your signature, but she played it off like you forgot." Amy suddenly got very meek. "You, uh... you need to go see her to get that settled today or else you can't participate in the debates."

"AMY." Mrs. Gordon, the study hall proctor, shushed me with an irritated look, and I gave an apologetic shrug before returning my attention to Amy. "For god's sake, why?"

"If Kate runs unopposed, she makes a speech at the debates and that's it. No one gets to ask her any questions, which is how she's skated by in the past. There's no ability to find out what her agenda is or what she really believes."

"It's not state office, Amy, it's the student council! You're not going to uncover some breathtaking plot to embezzle class dues! I mean, at most, you might find out that student council meetings are just excuses to have wild orgies, and I'm pretty sure they'd invite you to keep your mouth shut."

Amy snickered at that, and I did as well after a moment. Amy then placed her hand over mine. "Please, Ace, I promise I'll leave you and the other Royals alone for the rest of the year, but I need this. We need this."

I rolled my eyes and turned my hand over to hold hers. It was soft and warm, and holding hands with her was strangely calming, despite the color filling Amy's cheeks once I'd done so. It really wasn't asking much. "Alright, I'll go get certified and I'll take the debate seriously, but I'm using my closing statement to tell everyone to vote for Kate. You just better make me look terrible."

"Of course!" Amy responded before throwing her arms around me in a big hug. She smelled like a library, a weird combination of leather, mahogany, and dust. I was surprised to find the whole experience rather pleasant.

*****

"You're going along with it?" Tessa looked very dubious about the whole business, and I couldn't blame her. I shrugged as I finished my bite of school cafeteria-style pizza. I was again exceptionally hungry, and I had almost as much food on my tray as Donna did.

"We double-checked the student handbook, and in the off-chance I actually win the election, I can withdraw if I don't think I could actually do the job."

"Gotta say, though," Michi said, regarding the campaign poster, "it's a very good likeness."

"Thanks!" Mickey Beeman said. The cheerleading captain had a different lunch period from the rest of the squad and had joined us that day. "Really, though, that picture Amy got me did most of the work, I just did some transforms in GIMP and drew what I saw."

"I feel like I owe you something for it," I said, and Mickey waved me off.

"Nah, I owed Amy for introducing the squad to Becky. Honestly, we still do." That got a round of 'aww!'s from the table. From the sound of it, Becky's relationship with the cheerleaders went a lot deeper than just crazy group sex. I made a note to ask her about it later.

"You're awfully quiet today, Donna," Tessa said, looking over at the Mountain as she chewed on her own pizza. Donna smiled, and took a moment to swallow.

"Not a whole lot to add, honestly," she said meekly. Her face was slightly flush, which probably had something to do with me massaging her cock under the table. We were sitting pretty close to one another, and I'd rested my hand on her thigh for a bit physical contact. When she quietly unzipped the fly of her baggy jeans, I slipped my hand in and started rubbing her through what must have been new silk boxers.

"Hey, it's North Brookdale this week, right?" I asked Donna, hoping to distract everyone with the change of topic. "What's the outlook?"

"If they score at all, I will consider it a grave dishonor to myself, my team, my school, and my mother," Tanya said, arriving with her loaded tray of food. "Sorry I'm late, I needed to talk to Mrs. Hawthorne."

"Problems?" Michi asked, and Tanya shook her head.

"I had some questions about the reading this week, I have a hard time with H.P. Lovecraft."

"The cosmic horror or the deeply entrenched racism?" Tessa asked.

"Oh, it's absolutely the racism," Tanya replied.

That led to a lively discussion on the merits of the horror author, which nicely rounded out the rest of lunch. Donna looked a little sad when I removed my hand from her pants, but I'm certain the kiss I gave her as we broke off made up for it.

"Hey, want to hang out with us tonight?" Tessa asked.

"Yeah, if it's not interrupting anything," Donna replied.

"Not at all! We're probably just gonna fool around or something." Tessa walked over to Donna, reached up to her neck, and pulled her down into a blazing hot kiss. I kept an eye out for authority figures as the girls shared an intimate moment and loudly cleared my throat when I saw the principal enter the hall. Tessa pulled back and looked very satisfied with herself, while Donna looked completely shell-shocked.

"Don't worry," I told her as we started off to class. "it's always like that."

"I'm in so much trouble," Donna said, laughing.

"We all are," Tessa said, hooking us both in her arms.

*****

I didn't get a chance to go to the office until after school, and that's the first place I went when classes ended for the day. As I strolled up, I saw Mrs. LeBeau and Nurse Carter speaking with Mrs. Adams, the executive assistant. Mrs. Adams looked like a shell of her usual bubbly self, and Mrs. LeBeau had a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. I stopped, leaning against a nearby locker for a moment to allow the two women to finish their conversation. My concern senses were going off pretty strongly, and I wondered what was up. My musing was interrupted by a quiet cough next to me, and I saw a young freshman girl standing a few feet away.

"Uh, that's mine," she said, pointing to the locker I'd chosen to rest against.

"Oh, good heavens," I said, playing up some awkward embarrassment as I stood up and stepped back, "my sincerest apologies, madam." The girl blushed as I gave her a short bow, and her nearby friends started giggling as she accessed the locker. I turned around to see Mrs. LeBeau and the school nurse head into their respective offices, and I headed over. Mrs. Adams' eyes were slightly puffy and reddened, and a sniffle confirmed she'd been crying in the recent past. She also looked much closer to her actual age suddenly, her face a well-worn map of lines.

"Hi, Mrs. Adams," I said quietly. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue before looking up, and her face immediately broke out in a smile.

"Hey, Ace," she said, her voice a little shaky. "What's up?"

"I'm told I forgot to sign my letter of intent for the presidency," I said, Mrs. Adams already placing the file on the counter in front of her and opening it to the relevant document. Even in her distress, she still knew exactly what was happening at any given time.

"They strong-armed you into it, huh?" she asked, and I shrugged.

"I agreed to the debate. If I actually win, I am resigning out of that situation as hard as I can." I took the offered pen and signed on the line after crossing out Amy's terrible attempt at forgery.

"Shame, you look good in a suit." She took the folder and placed it in a nearby drawer. I decided to press my luck a little.

"How are you doing?"

Mrs. Adams sighed as she sat back in her chair. "It's nothing, just a little bad news."

I took a quick look around to make sure no one was nearby before leaning in and whispering. "Mrs. A, you are one of the most cheerful people I know. It's got to be more than just 'a little bad news' to harsh your mellow, as the elders say."

I got a chuckle and another smile, which honestly made me feel like a million dollars. Mrs. Adams looked at me and sighed, and I could tell she was deciding whether or not to let me into her confidence.

"It's... it was some bad news from my oncologist."

I gasped. "Oh no! Fuck, Mrs. A."

She nodded. "The first time we did this dance, it was bad, but we beat it. 25 years later, though, I'm obviously not as young or vigorous," she waggled her eyebrows at me, "so the prognosis is... less than optimistic."

This really sucked. Mrs. Adams had been at the high school for longer than I'd been alive, and Mr. Adams (god rest him) had been a beloved science teacher there for even longer. If anyone could be considered an integral part of that place's heart and soul, it was her. I found myself walking around the desk to offer her a hug, and she gladly accepted it. Her body was exactly as motherly as one might expect, soft and yielding and warm, and she placed her head on my shoulder for a moment.

"If there's anything I can do to help, you know I will, right?"

She nodded. "Everyone's been so sweet, I don't know what I'd do if I had to face this alone." She breathed in deeply through her nose, and I smirked knowing what was happening. "Jesus, kid, what cologne is that? Pardon my French, but it's going right to my snatch."

I stepped away with an awkward smile. "It's just me and my weird biology." Mrs. A was a little flushed, and I noticed a definite reaction in her leggings. "I'd be happy to help you with that, too, you know. The girls say I'm pretty good down there." I waggled my eyebrows. "With my mouth, I mean."

Mrs. Adams laughed herself to tears. From the way a weight seemed to vanish from her shoulders, it was clear she needed it. "You are absolutely shameless, Andrew Wayne, and God bless you for it! Now get out of here before I drag you into the supply closet and get us both in trouble."

As I turned to leave, I saw Mrs. LeBeau standing in the doorway to her office give me a warm smile. I wondered just how much she'd heard. I didn't give it much more thought as I hopped into the Type-R and left for the hospital. I got to thinking on the 10-minute drive over, about my condition and the things I seemed capable of. I was already considering something that might help Mrs. Adams in more than an emotional sense, but I needed to run it by Dr. Ellison first.

I ended up waiting in the exam room for about 10 minutes before meeting Dr. Jennifer Seaver. She HAS to be Johnny's mom, I thought to myself: she had the same hair and eye color as Johnny, and their angular facial structures were also extremely similar. She was about 5' 8" with her shoulder-length brown hair tied back in a ponytail and her chestnut eyes behind glasses with delicate metal frames. She had a thick sweater on under her lab coat, obscuring her figure somewhat, which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was another crush on a medical professional directly involved with my well-being, and especially on a friend's mom. Well, the mom of a friend with whom I wasn't already romantically involved, anyway. You know what I mean.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Ace, Johnny's told me a lot about you already!" Dr. Seaver said as we exchanged introductions.

"Nothing too bad, I hope!" I said, and she laughed.

"Not at all! I'd say more, but he'd never forgive me if I embarrassed him, so we'll just make some unvoiced assumptions and move on." As she washed her hands, I decided I liked Dr. Seaver.

"You've been read in on my, uh, condition?" I asked, and she nodded.

"It's utterly fascinating," she replied as she gestured to the exam table. I hopped up and she started listening to my heart and lung function. "I feel bad that you have to go through it, but from what Trish and Dr. Ellison have been saying, you're something of a Rosetta Stone for the Blend."

As she continued with the exam, I started humming to myself. I didn't recognize the tune until she stopped and gave me an incredulous look. "Really?"

"Well, I mean, you're not a psychiatrist, but you are Dr. Seaver." I shrugged as she shook her head at me.

"I have patients twice your age that wouldn't get that reference."

"You mean you didn't get sick of it in med school?"

"I would have if I went into psychiatry like I intended to." She smirked as she resumed the exam. I don't think either of us were surprised when, upon reaching the "plumbing" examination, we started singing the Growing Pains chorus together at the top of our lungs. She had a bit of trouble on the higher notes, but she had a very nice singing voice. It definitely defused any awkwardness from her inspecting my wares, and we both collapsed into hysterics when we finished.

"Everything okay in here?" Dr. Ellison poked her head in after knocking, which we hadn't noticed.

"Your patient's a weirdo," Dr. Seaver said.

"In my defense, this doctor you found me is also a weirdo," I retorted.

"Hmm..." Dr. Ellison narrowed her eyes at us as I got dressed. "Well, come on, we've got some things to discuss." We followed her into her office/lab and took seats.

"I hear I'm the ancient Greek of Blend mechanics," I mentioned, and Dr. Ellison snickered.

"I don't regret describing you like that at all, it's very apt." She indicated a bunch of different folders scattered across the conference table. "Your blood work and ejaculate analysis have provided a clear framework of biological changes involved, especially when we compare them to similar samples from individuals going through the Blend at various points."

"It's helping connect the dots."

"Some of them. There's still a lot of analysis to perform, and there are still a number of compounds your body produces that we need to isolate and identify, but it's all positive progress."