Note: Ghost stories are all the rage right now and I have to admit this story is somewhat inspired by the Netflix series, Dead Boys Detectives. It’s a much more adult version, though. And, as you soon see, quite twisted. I realize that I’m not talented enough to reinvent the genre of the ghost story but I can play around with the tropes, using them to my advantage. It

Themes: Butt growth, cock shrink, feminization, straight-to-guy, humiliation, muscle loss, hairless, shrinking (loss of height), clueless, chemical neutering, shaving, pussification

Quick links:

• Chapter 1 – scroll down!
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9 – New on 13 July 2024
• Chapter 10 – New on 13 July 2024
• Chapter 11 – Final chapter, posted 14 July 2024

***

Chapter 1

River Jansen strolled into the football locker room in advance of the special meeting called by the coach. Looking over at the bank of lockers opposite his own, he rolled his eyes. “Put on some fuckin’ clothes, Falco!” he growled. “This ain’t practice. Just a quick huddle.”

The guys gave him funny looks when he said this but he didn’t notice; he was too busy fending off Falco’s attempts to hug him. The big center–naked as the day he was born–came bounding over to him, throwing out his beefy arms and trying to lock River in a bear hug. “You can see me? OMG! You can see me?!”

River dodged out of the way, repulsed by the thought of hugging a naked dude. “‘Course I can see ya, you big idiot! I can see far too much of you! Now put on some goddamned clothes!” He held his hand over his eyes, waving Falco off.

He was so flustered that he didn’t realize the locker room had gone deathly quiet. Finally, he heard the coach clear his throat. “Uh, Mr. Jansen, who are you talking to?”

River looked up and saw that everyone in the room was staring at him. Several of the guys’ faces had gone pale and a couple were whispering to each other. Confused as to why they were giving him funny looks when it was Falco running around completely naked, he pointed at Falco, saying, “Him! I’m talkin’ to Falco!”

Falco smiled happily at this but everyone else’s mouths fell open. The coach swallowed, unable to meet River’s gaze. “River,” he murmured. “Falco isn’t here. He’s dead. That’s why I called this meeting.”

River felt the earth shift beneath his feet with these words. Only because everyone was staring at him like he was crazy did he refrain from insisting that Adão Falco was standing only three feet away, clearly alive and well. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, feeling like he’d suddenly stepped into a B-grade ghost movie.

Simultaneously, he and Falco repeated, “Dead?” They looked at each other, Falco’s eyes going round and River feeling like he’d seen a ghost. Make that, he was seeing a ghost.

The coach nodded. “The police found his body in the lake this morning. They’re saying it was likely an accidental drowning but the investigation is ongoing.”

Falco looked stricken at these words, holding his face in his hands and moaning, “I’m dead! That’s why I can’t touch nuthin’ and nobody can see me! I fuckin’ died!” He started to cry but then stopped, looking over at River hopefully, “but maybe I’m not really dead if you can still see me. Tell me I’m not dead, bro!” 

He advanced on River, reaching out to grab him by the shoulders but River sidestepped him. Mindful of all eyes in the room being on him, River made it look like he’d lost his balance but he suspected the ploy didn’t fool anyone. His cheeks colored and he folded his arms unhappily. What the fuck was going on? Just five minutes ago he’d been riding high, the big man on campus who was being courted by recruiters from no less than five professional football teams. As the star quarterback, he’d just led the team to their second national title and was now enjoying the prospect of being a newly-minted millionaire when he graduated in the spring. Even better, he had more pussy than he could handle; chicks were throwing themselves at him!

And now fucking Adão Falco had to die and show up as a ghost. A ghost that only he could see at that!

He checked out mentally after that, only vaguely aware of the meeting going around him. The coach answered a few questions and said that the memorial service was on Friday but most of the guys were too shaken by the news to do anything but stand there. For his part, Falco–or the ghost of Falco–stood there woodenly, still holding himself and muttering incoherently. When the meeting finally broke up and the rest of the team drifted out of the locker room, River and Falco were left alone.

Turning on the naked ghost, River spat, “Get lost! If yer dead, why don’t ya act like it? Ain’t ya ‘sposed to go to heaven or sumthin’? Why’re ya still hangin’ around here?” When Falco’s eyes filled with tears, he softened his tone a little, adding, “At least put on some fuckin’ clothes! I’m tired of lookin’ at yer fat schlong!” 

Just like when he was alive, Falco sported a large, uncircumcised penis and loved showing it off. (“It’s true,” he’d brag as strolled into the showers, “Brazilian guys got the biggest dicks. I’m living proof!”) This is what River assumed Falco was doing when he’d entered the locker room and seen him standing there naked; it was the dude’s favorite thing to do, walk around naked and show off his big dick. River had lost count of the times he’d looked up from the bench only to find Falco’s big, black willy dangling inches from his face, the jock smirking down at him. It hadn’t endeared Falco to him…which was part of the reason he wasn’t very sympathetic to the dude’s plight. He didn’t want him dead but he didn’t exactly harbor warm fuzzies towards him, either.

Falco reacted strongly to River’s insistence that he put on some clothes.  “I CAN’T!” he wailed, tears sliding down his bearded cheeks. “DONTCHA THINK I’VE TRIED? I CAN’T PUT ON NO CLOTHES NO MORE!” Taking a few deep breaths (ghosts still needed to breathe?), he added miserably, “I musta died when I was naked an’ now I’m stuck like this forever!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” River had had enough. He just wanted his life to go back to normal and that meant getting rid of Falco’s ghost. “Just get outta my sight! Go to the coroner’s cold storage and, ya know, slip inside yer dead body. Maybe that’ll do it?” 

He sighed heavily when Falco continued to cry. The truth was that his conscience had been pricked and he realized he couldn’t leave Falco drifting at sea like this.  He very reluctantly settled down on a bench and, patting the space next to him, invited the ghost to take a seat. Falco obliged, sitting down on his plump, naked bottom. It was weird; River could feel the bench sag under the big guy’s weight as if he were still alive. Even weirder was the heat emanating from the dude’s naked body. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be cold and made out of air? He pushed the thought away, focusing on the topic at hand. “Look, Falco,” he began, “I’m real sorry, Ok? I’m sorry you drowned and I’m sorry yer a ghost but I need ya outta here. Can’t you leave?”

“I-I-I-I’ve tried,” Falco sobbed, lowering his head in his hands, “but I can’t! I’m stuck here!”

River pondered this for a moment before remembering a plot line from a bad movie he’d seen a while ago with one of his many girlfriends. “Do you remember how you died?”

“N-N-N-No! All I know is I was at a party last night and the next thing I remember is wakin’ up naked, lyin’ beside the lake this morning.” He sniffled loudly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “I thought I’d passed out and tried to get dressed–my clothes was lyin’ next to me–but couldn’t pick up nuthin’. When I walked back to the dorm, I realized nobody could see me. I thought that was real strange but not as strange as bein’ able to walk through walls.”

River shook his head in disbelief. “And you didn’t figure it out until the coach told us just now that you’re dead?” He tried and failed to keep the disdain out of his voice.

Falco gave him a sour look. “Look, I know it’s hard to bah-lieve but I ain’t never been dead before. How the fuck was I ‘sposed to know what it’s like? I mean, I still feel like I’m alive. I’m still breathin’, still warm, still got a heart that’s beatin’. It don’t make no sense. An’ would ya stop bein’ an asshole? I could use some sympathy here, bro!”

“Alright, alright!” River soothed, lifting his hands. “Don’t get mad at me! This is all just as new to me as it is to you.”

“But yer not dead!” Falco pointed out. “You still got a body and a whole life ahead of ya!”

What could he say to this? River wasn’t equipped to counsel the newly deceased and so sidestepped the topic by asking, “Whose party were you at? Maybe someone there knows what happened to you?”

Falco looked off to the side. “Uh, I don’t remember.”

“C’mon, bro!” River chided. “You gotta remember somebody who was there! I mean, I can’t be the only one who can see you. You should track down the people from the party and leave me alone.”

“That’s not very nice, bro.” Falco stuck out his lower lip. “Why’re ya bein’ so mean to me? I need yer help! So far, yer the only one who can see me.”

Patience at its end, River lifted his hands in the air and shouted to the heavens, “Why me? WHY ME? For fuck’s sake, God, are you trying to fuck with me for some reason? Do I do something wrong? Did ya juss need to put me back in my place? What do I need to do to get back on yer good side? How do I make this stupid fuckin’ ghost leave me alone?!”

He got up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, preparing to leave. Falco sprang up, though, and followed after him, waving his arms. “Don’t go, bro! Please don’t go! How am I ‘sposed to find ya if ya leave? I need you! I need ya bad!”

“Get away from me,” River ordered. “I’m late for class.”

“But what do I do?” Falco wailed. “I need yer help!”

“That’s not my problem. I already tole ya what to do: Go find the other people who were at the party.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Now leave me alone!”

He stalked off, leaving the moaning ghost behind him.

***

The rest of the day was pretty routine, lulling him into thinking the episode with the Falco’s ghost had been a weird brain fart. Later that evening, though, he was sitting on the toilet in the bathroom of his apartment, browsing through Instagram on his phone, when Falco materialized through the door.

“JESUS FUCKIN’ CHRIST!” River yelled, sticking his hand between his legs to cover his privates. “WHAT THE FUCK. DUDE? I’M TAKING A SHIT! CAN’T YA AT LEAST KNOCK FIRST?”

Falco gave him a cold look. “No, I can’t. Did I already tell ya I can’t touch nuthin’?” He paused and sniffed the air delicately, adding, “And I can’t smell, neither. Guess that’s a good thing in this particular situation, ain’t it?”

River sighed, exasperated. Taking a moment to wipe himself, he flushed the toilet and stood up, pulling his underwear over his muscular thighs. Falco watched him closely the whole time, making River uncomfortable.

“Nice piece, bro…for a white dude,” the ghost observed. “But…panties? I had ya figured for a boxers kinda guy.”

“They’re briefs, not panties!” River corrected, pulling up his jeans and zipping up. “And the chick’s dig ‘em. Really gets ‘em wet when they see what I’m packin’.” 

“If that’s true,” Falco continued, “then how come I never seen ya wearin’ panties when yer changin’ for practice?”

“Look, they’re brief and not panties!” River huffed. “And I only wear ‘em when I’m ‘bout to get lucky. With a woman. That’s why you never see me wearin’ ‘em in the locker room.” He paused, exasperated. “Why am I even tellin’ ya this? It ain’t’ none of yer business! ‘Sides, Colette’s on her way over here right now and we’re gonna fuck our brains out.” He exhaled in annoyance. “Tell me why yer here anyway. I thought I tole ya to get lost.”

Falco’s lower lip thrust out. “I did what ya suggested an’ tracked down some of the people from the party last night but nobody could see me. Looks like I only got you, bro.”

“That can’t be possible!” River pressed. “I can’t be the only one who can see you! Go back and look for more people. There’s gotta be somebody who can help you!”

“I’m tired,” Falco stated defiantly. “And the university already assigned my dorm to someone else. I ain’t got nowhere to sleep.”

“You’re dead!” River cried. “You don’t need to sleep! And, even if you do, yer not sleepin’ here! Not with Colette here!” Falco frowned, taking a menacing step closer, and River backed away, panicked. He remembered from the movies that ghosts could possess the living and worried that was what Falco had in mind. Holding up his hands, he said lamely, “I ain’t washed my hands yet bro! Stay away!”

“I’m sick an’ tired of yer attitude,” Falco hissed. “You ain’t nuthin’ like I thought. Yer a real asshole, ya know?”

River opened his mouth to respond but something Falco had said made him stop. After a brief hesitation, he asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean yer an asshole,” Falco spat. “Ain’t that clear enough for ya?”

River shook his head. “No, not that. What did you mean that I’m nothing like you thought?”

Falco became evasive. “Huh? What? It don’t mean nuthin’, bro! Juss a figure of speech.”

“I see,” River said, narrowing his eyes. “It just makes me wonder something.”

“What’s that, bro?” Falco asked innocently.

River shrugged. “I dunno. Juss wonderin’ why I’m the only one who can see you.”

“You ‘an me both,” Falco muttered but there was something about his tone that sounded off. He was hiding something, River was certain of it.

Before he could push him further on the topic, though, there was a knock at the door and Colette’s soft voice called out, “Hey, hey! I’m here! I hope you’re wearing something slinky!” When she unlocked the door and entered the apartment, River panicked. “Get out!” he whispered urgently to Falco. “You can come back after we fuck but I don’t want you here right now.” When Falco merely grinned back at him, he hissed, “Gimme a couple hours. We’ll fuck a bunch of times and then I’ll figure out how to make her leave. You can sleep on the couch.”

Falco looked at first like he would protest but then shrugged and, turning, walked through the wall and out of the apartment.

***

Things were hot and heavy with Colette. He stripped her naked as soon as he (washed his hands and) walked into the living room. Then he led her into his bedroom (where scented candles were burning and he’d sprinkled rose petals on the bed) and threw her down. Throwing off his clothes, he pounced and went down on her pussy, getting her all worked up and juicy. Just when she was screaming his name, he jumped up and thrust his cock inside of her, sliding into her warm, moist pocket of paradise. In no time, they were rocking together on the storm-tossed seas of passion.

He was so close!

Just as he was about to cum, though, he had a creepy feeling and looked over his shoulder. Who did he see but Falco lurking in the doorway? The big dude was jacking himself, his huge erection thrust out before him like a giant, ugly pole.

“Whatsa matter, baby?” Colette asked as his erection promptly softened to a limp noodle. “Sumthin’ wrong?”

River didn’t answer her. Instead, he fixed Falco with a murderous glare, yelling, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE AN’ LEMME FUCK IN PEACE! What makes ya think I wanna look at yer nasty hardon?”

***

Chapter 2

“That’s real rough, bro. I’m sorry,” Falco said as River held the iced compress over his left eye. Colette really knew how to land a punch! She’d decked him good after his outburst, thinking he was live streaming their lovemaking session. In his outrage at being spied on, River had been so incensed with Falco that he’d completely forgotten the dude was a ghost and therefore invisible to everyone but him.

River turned on the dead guy, staring balefully at him with his one good eye. “Yer such an asshole. If ya weren’t already dead, I’d kill ya right now.”

“That’s low, bro. Real low.” Falco spread his hands, “I mean, what’s the harm in me watchin’ anyways? It’s not like Colette could see me.”

“I could see you!” River pointed out. “And I don’t want to see you beatin’ off while I’m fuckin’ one of my girlfriends! It’s gay and gross and juss wrong!”

“Don’t be a homophobe,” Falco grumbled. “And it ain’t gay. It’s sex, bro. Sex is sex. It’s only gay if you’re havin’ sex with a dude.”

River fixed him with a gimlet eye. “Well, seein’ ya jackin’ yer cock while I’m ass up in bed sure feels gay to me. AND I AIN’T GAY!”

“Ok! Ok!” Falco held up his hands. “I already tole ya I’m sorry. Ya got a real nice ass, btw. I mean, it’s perfect. So tight an’ muscular–kinda on the small side, though. You should focus on yer glutes when ya lift weights–and yer legs were spread so I could see yer pucker openin’ and closin’ with each thrust–OWW!”

River’s punch landed squarely on Falco’s jaw. He was preparing to jump on top of him and pummel him into oblivion when he realized something strange. He stopped in surprised confusion as Falco registered it, too. The ghost rubbed his jaw in wonder.

“Y-Y-You can touch me?!” Falco exclaimed. “You can really touch me! I mean, you punched me and I felt it. Fuck, it hurts like fuck, too! How did you do that? How did you manage to touch me when I’m a ghost?”

River couldn’t stop rubbing his knuckles, remembering the distinct feeling of his fist connecting to the dude’s jaw. There had been the softness of Falco’s cheek and the hardness of his jawbone. His beard felt rough against his skin and his skin had been warm. Just like living skin.

“I-I-I don’t know,” he stammered, heart pounding in his chest. What the fuck was going on? “Am I dead, too?” As soon as he said, though, he shook his head. There’s no way he was dead; a dead guy couldn’t fuck a chick much less get punched by her. “Nah, that’s not it. Jesus, bro! Can’t ya juss go away? Like forever? I’m sick an’ tired of ya!”

Ignoring him, Falco reached over and grabbed his hand, rubbing it in his calloused fingers. River tried to snatch it back but Falco wouldn’t let go. “I can feel you! I can feel you! God, you feel so good! Oh fuck, bro! You don’t got no idea how good it feels to be touched until ya can’t touch nuthin’!”

River tried again to pull his hand away but Falco wouldn’t let him. The big guy was happily stroking it like a pet dog. The sensation unnerved him but not for the obvious reason that he was being touched by a ghost. No, it was something else, something that made him feel deeply uncomfortable.

It was because it was amazing.

The touch of Falco’s fingers on his hand was the most electric and intimate experience of his life. It was like touching a woman’s naked skin, only far more erotic. He swallowed, realizing it was like being merged with Falco, like their souls were entwined together. Melted together, fused and completely interpenetrated.

He snatched his hand away, flushing bright red, when he realized he was getting a hardon. Grabbing a pillow and covering his rapidly tenting crotch, he shouted, “THAT’S ENOUGH! STOP IT!”

Falco gaped at him, his eyes filled with hurt. “But, bro!” he wailed. “I need you! I fucking need you! Yer the only thing I can touch! Without you, I can’t feel nuthin’! Nuthin’ at all!” 

He reached over to try to take River’s hand again but River refused. “I’m going to bed,” he stated, getting up from the couch and holding the pillow over his raging erection. “You can sleep here.”

He stalked off to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, mindful of Falco’s puzzled gaze on him the whole time.

***

He woke up the next morning being spooned by Falco. The big ghost was pressed tight against him and had River held tightly in his arms. His naked body was in full contact with River’s naked body…in back. He flushed when he felt Falco’s giant member working its way into the crevice of his tight, straight-boy butt.

“Falco!” he yelled, frantically shoving the dead jock off of him. “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

He rubbed his butt, worrying that he’d somehow jeopardized his heterosexuality by letting a guy spoon him. So what if the guy was a ghost. It was still gay!

“It ain’t fair,” Falco complained, pouting. “Yer the only thing I can feel.”

River wound the sheet around his waist and got off the bed. The sick truth was that his cock was hard and throbbing, the memory of the ghost’s exquisite touch still emblazoned on his tender skin. He had no idea why he reacted that way to Falco’s touch but he didn’t like it and wasn’t about to let the ghost cuddle up to him again. “That don’t mean you can spoon me!” he hissed. “‘Sides, I tole ya to sleep on the couch. My bedroom’s off limits.”

Falco sat up and swung his legs over the bed, getting up and padding over to him. “Sorry, bro,” he murmured, hanging his head. “I’m juss, ya know, lonely, I guess. I can’t stand this! I ain’t meant to be a ghost! I need touch. Human touch.”

River gazed back at him, conflicted and confused. He had no idea why the ghost’s touch was so electric or why he was feeling…emotions…for Falco that he’d never felt toward a guy before. His dick was throbbing and he had to will himself not to stare at Falco’s big, smooth, muscular chest. And protruding nipples. And thick, veiny cock. It was still hard, the foreskin bunched up around the dude’s fat glans. A pearl of pre emerged from Falco’s piss slit as he stared, gently sliding down…

Gritting his teeth, he turned away and, grabbing his discarded underwear, stalked into the bathroom where he could get dressed in peace (and wait for his dick to soften.) Standing in front of the mirror, he panted, trying to wrap his fuzzy brain around what was happening. His reflection caught his attention and he noticed his left eye was bruised from Colette’s punch. His shaggy, brown hair was a mess and his jaw was unshaven. He still looked pretty darned good, though, he thought, flexing and admiring his lean, sinewy body. He was tall and ripped and hairy. God, he loved being a big, strong, masculine man! He smirked back at himself, smoothing an errant lock of hair out of his eyes. Yeah, he was a stud. A fuckin’ beast!

Thus reassured that he was studly as ever, he emerged a few minutes later to find Falco standing with slouched shoulders in front of the door.

“I stayed out this time, bro,” he offered, looking up at River hopefully. “‘Cuz I know ya like yer privacy an’ stuff.”

“Er, thanks.”

“Listen,” Falco continued, staring down at the floor. “I’ve been thinkin’ an’ I know ya wanna get rid of me. I mean, who’d wanna be haunted by no ghost all the time, even a sexy fucker like me?” He looked up hopefully at this but was met only with River’s scowl. Flushing, he continued, “I can’t make myself leave–I’ve tried, bah-lieve me!–but it don’t work. I can’t go nowhere…”

“So?” River was growing impatient. He wanted Falco gone immediately. No, sooner than immediately. He wanted him gone NOW.

“…which makes me think I didn’t drown but was murdered,” Falco concluded. He held up his hands, forestalling River’s questions. “I mean, it makes sense right? If I died naturally, I wouldn’t still be here hangin’ around. An’ I don’t remember nuthin’ after the party. I’m thinkin’ somebody spiked my drink er sumthin’ and I passed out. Maybe they was tryna rob me er sumthin’? But they got the dosage wrong an’ I never woke up. Dat’s why they dumped my body in the lake, tryna cover their tracks.” He gave River an imploring look. “It’d be real nice of ya if ya helped me, bro. Helped solve my murder so I could, um, go home.”

River put his hand on his forehead, murmuring, “God, this really is like a bad movie, isn’t it?”

“I know it sounds dumb,” Falco protested, “but it’s the only thing I got. Maybe you got a better idea?”

River thought about it, mindful that Falco had taken a step closer to him and he could feel the heat emanating from his big body. He took a careful step backwards, saying, “I ‘spose it does make sense. But don’t you think we should leave this in the hands of the police? They’re much better equipped to figure out what happened to you than I am. I’m not a fuckin’ detective, bro.”

“I know dat!” Falco was wringing his hands now; it was pathetic seeing him like this. “But I got a strong feeling dat da police ain’t gonna find nuthin’. An’ I really hate bein’ a ghost. Won’t juss help a bro out?” He thrust out his lower lip. “I’ll make it up to ya somehow, I promise!”

When the ghost tried to embrace him, River held up his hands. “Alright! Alright! I’ll help you out. Juss don’t touch me no more. No spooning. No hand-holding. No back rubs. Nuthin’. Deal?”

Falco looked unhappy at this but he must have realized his options were limited and opted not to press his luck. “Yeah, Ok, bro. I promise.”

River nodded. “Good. And don’t do nuthin’ weird, neither.”

“Of course, bro!” Falco promised, growing excited. “Nuthin’ weird!”

***

Chapter 3

An hour later, River was standing in front of the men’s wrestling team locker room. Falco was by his side, looking pained. “Uh, why’re we here again?” he asked, gazing quizzically over at the ghost.

“Miguel Sandoval,” Falso murmured. “He was at the party a couple nights ago before I died.”

“Is he a wrestler?” River queried. “Is that why we’re here?”

The ghost shook his head. “I don’t know! I can’t remember ‘xactly. I coulda sworn he was a basketball player but I got a strong feelin’ he’s here. Call it my ghost sense.”

“‘Ghost sense’?” River repeated, lip curling. “Really, bro?”

Falco’s lip thrust out. “Look, I know it sounds weird but I think he’s in there. Maybe if we–?”

They were interrupted at that moment but a tall, lanky kid. “Uh, hey, guys?” he asked, looking around. “Is this the wrestling locker room?”

The guy had shaggy blond hair and a patchy beard. He towered over River and River himself was a pretty tall guy. He couldn’t help but ask the obvious question, “Why? Yer clearly not a wrestler. Yer way too tall!”

The guy shrugged. “Don’t know. I juss got an email from the dean of athletics sayin’ to come here and talk to Coach Jordan.”

“Coach Jordan?” River asked. “The wrestling coach?”

“Yup, dat’s him.” The guy surprised River by sticking out his hand. “Name’s Carver. I’m a sophomore. In Kinesiology.” He peered closely at River, adding, “How’d ya get that shiner?”

River had completely forgotten about his black eye! He accepted the hand, shaking it and noting Carver’s strong grip. The kid had really big hands, too. “I’m River. Senior in Kinesiology. I thought I recognized ya.” He pointed at his eye, lying, “An’ I got this at football practice the other day.” Falco grunted in amusement at this but River ignored him.

Carver’s eyes had gone round. “Holy fuck!” he exclaimed, taking a step back, face suffused with awe. “Yer him, ain’t ya? Yer River Jansen! The best fuckin’ quarterback in the history of Marshall State University!”

River grinned bashfully, absurdly touched. Next to him Falco folded his arms and smirked. “Yeah, dat’s me. Thanks, man. That’s real high praise but I ain’t the best. Not by a long shot!”

“Yes, you are!” Carver insisted. “Yer a fuckin’–”

He was interrupted by the arrival of one of the members of the wrestling team. River knew this by the guy’s diminutive stature and cocky stance. Wrestlers are like bantam roosters, he thought; small and overly confident because, he suspected, they were compensating for their small size–both overall and below the belt. He’d never cared much for them and this guy was no exception. He felt an instinctive dislike as soon as he laid eyes on the dude.

Carver turned to the guy just as Falco nudged River. The ghost’s touch was electric and River had to stifle a moan of pleasure. How he wished Falco would stop touching him! “Hey, Riv,” the big guy murmured. “Dat’s him! Dat’s Miguel.” He paused, studying the little wrestler closely before adding, “He looks kinda different than I remember, though.”

River clenched his jaw. If this was Miguel, then he’d have to be nice to him until he got more information about Falco. Feigning friendliness that he didn’t feel, he smiled down at the small dude. “Yer Miguel?” he asked. “Miguel Sandoval?”

The little guy’s eyes darted to the side before he looked up at River. “Yeah, but I go by Mick now. So what?”

Fortunately, Carver saved him from having to invent a plausible excuse for being in front of the men’s locker room, waiting for him like a stalker. Turning on Mick, the tall jock asked excitedly, “Yer a wrestler? Can you get me in to see Coach Jordan?”

Mick looked from Carver to River, obviously assuming they were there for the same reason. “Maybe,” he said after a slight hesitation. He looked wary. “Why do you need to see him? I’d stay away if I were you.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Falco commented, making River glad that he was the only one who could see (or hear) the ghost. “I wonder why?”

River ignored him, instead taking the opportunity to study Mick Sandoval. The dude was tiny with a narrow chest and slender arms. He made up for what his upper body lacked, though, down below: He had really thick legs and an exceedingly plump rear end that thrust out prominently behind him. His hair was chestnut brown and his skin was dark but his eyes were light blue. Freshly shaven with a little button nose, round cheeks and pursed lips, he looked cute, verging almost on feminine. Despite his cocky posture, though, there was something diffident about him and River got the sense that his confidence was all for show. For whose benefit, though? Was he acting tough for River and Carver or was he trying to convince himself? It was hard to tell. Something definitely felt off here.

Carver, on the other hand, was oblivious to any weirdness and plunged ahead like an eager golden retriever. “The dean sent me!” he explained breathlessly. “The dean tole me to talk to him! I don’t know why but it must be important.”

Mick examined Carver closely, eyes narrowing before sliding over to River. His gaze was aloof, almost haunted. Finally, after a long pause, he said, “Ok, sure. Follow me. I’ll take ya to see him.” He smiled coldly to himself as he said this, something that River noticed but Carver missed.

Grinning goofily, Carver said, “Thanks, man! Yer da best! I owe ya one!”

Mick acted like he wanted to say something but then decided against it. Shrugging his backpack over his shoulder, he took his ID card out of his wallet and slid it through the card reader on the locker room door. Holding it open for them, he ushered them inside. River followed after Carver with Falco materializing through the door behind him. Life–or death, rather–was different for a ghost!

Inside, the locker room was awash in a cacophony of noise as the guys got ready for practice. Strutting around like a bunch of miniature peacocks, they laughed and derided each other in their attempt to show who was the most impressive. To River, however, they looked like a bunch of pathetic adolescent boys which made their show of bravado laughable. It reminded him more of a middle school locker room than a college men’s changing room.

He smirked to himself when he saw how the whole team suffered from the same short-guy’s affliction as Mick; none of them were taller than five foot five and they were built almost identically with slight upper bodies and exceedingly thick thighs. Oh, and each dude had a really big, plump pair of buttocks, too. Must be a wrestler’s thing, River thought smugly to himself. 

He was glad of his superior height and muscular build. Yeah, unlike these boy-like men, his muscles are evenly distributed. As a quarterback, his height and lean grace were his most prized assets because he needed to be agile and fleet of foot on the field. Plus, the idea of being saddled with a big, fat butt was anathema to him. It was unmanly! He’d hate to be a short dude with a big butt like these poor fuckers!

For some reason, the other wrestlers hooted and catcalled at Mick as he entered the locker room. “Haha! Look at him now, boys!” one of the guys, presumably the team captain, called out. “How’s it feel to be knocked down a peg or three, Micky? Not so full of yerself now, are ya?”

Mick remained mute, clenching his jaw as he stared down at the floor. His shoulders were hunched and the back of his neck was red with embarrassment.

“I wonder what dat’s ‘sposed to mean?” Falco muttered beside River. “Did they haze him or sumthin’? I coulda sworn he was a basketball player and not a wrestler. Did he drop basketball to join the wrestling team?”

River, of course, couldn’t reply to this without causing the other guys to stare at him and so he kept his mouth shut. He was certain, though, that the ghost’s memory was hazy–he was dead, afterall!–and he simply had Mick’s sports mixed up.

The guys stopped teasing Mick when they spotted River and Carver looming behind him. At first, their expressions were hostile but they changed to derision as the captain chortled, “Well, well! A couple more tall guys for Coach, I see. Haha! Go on into his office. He’s waiting for you!”

The other wrestlers, including Mick, burst into raucous laughter, acting like this was the funniest thing in the world. River exchanged a confused glance with Falco before saying to Mick, “Actually, I don’t need to see the coach. I’m here to see you. Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Talk to Coach Jordan first,” Mick ordered, stalking over to his locker. “Ya gotta get his permission to talk to anyone on the team.”

“But, I’m–”

It was no use; Mick had already turned his back and was spinning the dial on his lock. River sighed, debating whether to follow Carver into the coach’s office. “C’mon, bro,” Falco said, placing a heavy hand on River’s shoulder. “Let’s get this done with. I wanna get out of here as fast as possible. Sumthin’ ain’t right. I can feel it.”

River gritted his teeth at the ghost’s touch, struggling valiantly to ignore the erection plumping up the crotch of his shorts and stifle the ecstatic moan that threatened to escape his parted lips. Why in the hell did Falco’s touch do this to him? It was just plain wrong! In the end, though, he obediently followed Carver inside the office.

Coach Jordan was in his early thirties and clearly in good shape. Sporting a tan and a blond mustache, he looked kind of like a gay porn star from the 1970’s. (Not that River watched gay porn, just that his younger brother had a thing for vintage porn and he’d walked in on him jacking off to it on several occasions.) The coach looked up at them as they entered, handsome face breaking into a wide smile. “Ah, two more! This is great!” he exclaimed. “Welcome, gentlemen! Let me get you equipped for practice.”

“Uh, practice?” both River and Carver said in tandem. “Whaddaya mean?”

The coach stood up, demonstrating that he was every bit as short of stature as his wrestlers; his eyes barely came up to River’s chest. “Yes, practice,” he said in an authoritative tone. He walked around them, surveying them from head to toe. “Yes, yes,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together. “You’ll do nicely. Very nicely!”

“For what?” River demanded.

In answer, the coach held out a pair of shoes, a red Spandex singlet and ear guards. “Put these on, Mr. Jansen–and you are Mr. Jansen, aren’t you?” River nodded, confused how the guy knew his name before he realized that it was probably his notoriety. “Good,” Jordan continued, “get dressed and then we’ll talk.” He thrust the gear into River’s hands before he could object and then did the same to Carver before holding the door open for them. The message was clear: Get out of my office and get changed.

“Better do as he says,” Falco urged. “If we’re gonna have a chance to talk to Mick, we’ll need to play along. Dude clearly thinks you’re here to join the team.”

It was all River could do not to laugh at this. He had no intention of joining the wrestling team! He hated wrestling and didn’t know the first thing about it. Besides, he was clearly not built for the sport. He was too tall!

Despite his reservations, his desire to be rid of Falco outweighed his resistance to wrestling and he accepted the gear from Jordan. He followed Carver into the locker room and picked a vacant locker beside him before stripping out of his clothes. The other team members were mostly dressed in their practice singlets by that point but a few lingered, mostly to sneer at him and Carver.

River held up the singlet, realizing it was made of very sheer material. Looking over to Carver, he asked, “Um, aren’t we ‘sposed to, ya know, wear a cup under this?” He glanced down at his crotch before adding, “I’m, um, pretty big down there if ya know what I mean. I don’t wanna be on display!”

Carver gave him a chagrined look. “Me, too, bro!” He turned to one of the other guys, asking, “Hey, dude! Where do we get a cup? Does Coach have a stash somewhere?”

“A new cup,” River clarified, shivering with disgust at the thought of wearing another guy’s used cup.

The little wrestler looked up at them with disdain. “Nobody wears a cup no more, bro. We don’t need ‘em!”

“Maybe you don’t,” River pointed out, glancing meaningfully down at the short guy’s decidedly tiny nublet poking out against the stretchy fabric of his singlet. “But us big guys need protection. I ain’t goin’ out there with my bidness hanging out an’ risk one of you little tykes grabbin’ it!”

The diminutive wrestler bristled at being called a tyke. Somehow, though, he mastered himself. “Juss get dressed and shut the fuck up! Trust me, ya don’t got nuthin’ to worry ‘bout.” He laughed to himself after he said this and stalked out of the locker room, leaving Carver and River nervously holding the skimpy singlets. Neither of them wanted to put them on.

They kept their backs turned to each other as they undressed and stepped into the embarrassing singlets. They only turned around once they were decent, although truthfully there was no way to be decent in the obscene garments. River swallowed when he saw his ‘big man’ thrusting out before him and tenting the crotch of the singlet in an almost ridiculous manner. Carver wasn’t much better off; his hefty package hung down low and full, his round balls and thick shaft clearly outlined. It was obvious that he was circumcised like River because the ridge of his glans was starkly visible.

“Hmmm,” Falco observed as he stared critically at River, “those little wrestlers defo wear it better. Yer too long and thin. Although, it does make yer lil’ butt look nice.” He reached out and patted River’s behind, causing him to growl in frustration.

“You Ok, bro?” Carver asked; he was covering his crotch with his big hands.

“Fine, just fine,” River hissed, surreptitiously pushing Falco away. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t got no idea why I let myself get talked into wearing this fruity thing. All I want is to talk with Mick!”

***

Chapter 4 

They emerged in the gym to find the team busy practicing on a series of blue mats. The coach was barking instructions at them as they very studiously wrestled in pairs. River couldn’t help noticing that the other guys looked far different in their singlets. The stretchy garments emphasized their big thighs while drawing no attention to their crotches. They can’t draw attention to their crotches, River thought with a smirk of superiority, ‘cuz they don’t got nuthin’ down there to draw attention to! It was true; to a man, the wrestlers were remarkably underendowed. Their perky butts, on the other hand, more than made up for it. River’s cheeks colored when he saw the singlets rode up the dudes’ ass cracks, hugging their big orbs almost salaciously.

Carver nudged him. “Hey, dude. Why’re their uniforms pink and ours are red?”

River looked down at himself, realizing that Carver was right. His singlet was bright, cherry red while the other guys’ were hot pink. Bold lettering across their chests and asses proclaimed, ‘The Marshall State Cherubs.’ There was even an insignia of a heart with an arrow through it.

He scratched himself thoughtfully as he studied the wrestling uniforms. Not accustomed to the singlet, he found it both uncomfortable and itchy. “And why are they the ‘Cherubs’? The university mascot is a polecat, not a fuckin’ cupid!” He snorted with derision. “Figures these little faggy wrestlers would have a girly mascot!”

“Hey! Language check!” Falco scolded. “Homophobia’s not cool, dude.”

River waved this off, still chuckling to himself. It was really funny seeing the little dudes scampering around in pink singlets! They sort of looked like cherubs, too, given their tiny stature, plump buttocks and round faces. All of the guys on the team were clean-shaven and appeared to lack any discernible body hair, making them appear almost prepubescent. They were so different from the hairy, bulky, tall, manly football team that River’s chest swelled with superiority. Thank god he wasn’t a wrestling fag!

Carver shared his disdain and they laughed together, scratching themselves and shaking their heads at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Jesus, bro!” Carver said. “I’m so glad I play rugby! Fuck, I’d die of embarrassment if I had to run around lookin’ like that! Haha!”

“It’s not funny.”

They turned around to find Mick standing behind them with his little arms folded. The wrestler was all alone, apparently lacking a practice partner. He glowered up at Carver and River, looking like a petulant child.

“Actually, it is funny,” River corrected. “And not juss funny but gay. Real gay.” Falco let out a little gasp of dismay as he said it and River kicked himself, realizing too late that he needed to stay on Mick’s good side if he was going to find out anything meaningful about Falco’s death.

Mick was opening his mouth to reply when Coach Jordan interrupted. “Hey, Micky, how ‘bout you show the guys a few wrestling moves? You juss learned ‘em yerself so they’re fresh in yer mind, right?”

Mick looked unhappy with this suggestion but he complied, motioning for River and Carver to follow him over to the mat. Getting down on all fours, he jerked his chin at River, “Get behind me and lie down on my back.” He arched his back and stuck out his prominent buttocks as he said this. His butt cheeks looked like they were ready to explode out of the flimsy Lycra of his singlet.

River laughed. “You really don’t waste no time, do ya? Yer like a fat heifer ready for breedin’!”

“Juss shut the fuck up,” Mick muttered, face a mask of loathing. “I can’t wait to take ya down!”

This brought out River’s competitive nature and he found himself getting down behind the little guy even though the position was gay as fuck. “Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “I’ll show ya who’s da big man here!”

Carver and Falco watched from the sidelines as the two sparred. Mick was clearly a newbie at wrestling but he had quick reflexes and, maybe because he was so small, had the uncanny ability of wriggling his way out of just about any hold. In a matter of minutes, the tiny jock had pinned River beneath him and was sneering down at him, eyes on fire with victory.

“Get used to it,” he spat. “Yer gonna be spendin’ a lotta time on the bottom from now on.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” River demanded, trying to dislodge the smaller man despite his superior size and muscles. When brute force didn’t work, he tried a different tack, willing to do anything to the tables on the smug little fuck. Taking a breath, he demanded, “What do you know about Adão Falco?”

Mick reacted as if River had slapped him. His head flew back and his face turned pale. River took the opportunity to throw the kid off of him, pinning him beneath his superior bulk. Just like that, their roles had reversed and he now had Mick at the disadvantage.

“Well?” he pressed, leaning in so closely his face was only an inch or two from Mick’s. “I can tell you know sumthin’. Tell me!”

Mick glanced off to the side. “I don’t know nuthin’.”

“Liar!” River tightened his hold around the guy’s slender chest causing Mick to gasp for air. “TELL ME!”

Mick looked like he wanted to cry. Screwing his eyes shut, he hissed, “Not so loud! Coach Jordan’ll hear ya! If ya wanna know ‘bout Falco, I’ll tell ya but not til after practice. Meet me in the sauna after Dr. Anderson sees ya.”

“Dr. Anderson?”

Mick nodded. “Yeah, the team doctor. Ya gotta get a physical if yer gonna join the team. Coach’ll take ya to him when yer done here…if he likes ya.”

“But I’m not–” but Coach Jordan was already pulling him off of Mick.

“Nice job, River!” he praised. “Yer wasted on football, I see! I think you’ve found yer true calling as a wrestler.”

River shook the man’s hands off of him. “I’d sooner fuckin’ die than prance around like dis in front of a bunch faggot fans!” He gestured to his embarrassingly revealing singlet. “An’ I’m a fuckin’ footballer through an’ through! You’ve heard of it, right? Football: The real man’s sport!”

Coach Jordan rolled his eyes, commenting drolly, “Yeah, ‘cuz football’s uniform is so much manlier!” When River puffed out his chest, he soothed, “Easy, boy. Don’t get yer dander up. I’m juss sayin’ ya might wanna consider a career change. I got sumthin’ else in mind that I think yer better, um, suited for.” He plucked at the shoulder strap of River’s singlet as he said this, smiling.

River bristled but, when he looked down at the coach’s hand on his shoulder, he did a double take. His singlet was now hot pink just like the other wrestlers. He looked from himself over to Carver and saw the tall dude’s singlet was pink now, too. But hadn’t they been red just a few minutes ago? Shaking his head, he shrugged the coach’s hand off of him. Something weird was going on here. Uniforms didn’t just randomly change color!

“What’s wrong?” Falco whispered at his shoulder, apparently oblivious to the changing color of River’s singlet. “What’d ya say to Mick that got him so excited?”

River scratched at his buttocks where the singlet material was particularly itchy. “I’ll tell ya later,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice low so Coach Jordan couldn’t hear. “Juss gimme some time.”

Carver and Mick were squaring off right then and Falco and River watched them spar until the coach blew his whistle, signaling the end of practice. Laughing and joking, the little wrestlers jogged into the locker room to hit the showers. Carver and River started to follow but Coach Jordan stopped them. “Not yet, boys! Dr. Anderson’s gonna take a look at ya first.”

“Huh? Why?” Carver asked, clearly mystified. River remained silent, though; he already knew what was coming.

“For your physicals!” Jordan replied, smiling munificently. “We gotta make sure yer in prime physical condition if yer gonna wrestle. It’s a tough sport after all!”

“But I already had a physical for rugby!” Carver protested. “I don’t need another one! I ain’t even sure if I wanna be a wrestler yet!”

Coach Jordan smiled and paced over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, boy, juss do it. I saw how much you enjoyed practice juss now. You show as much promise as our boy, River, here.”

River clamped down on his tongue as Carver shook his head, saying, “I dunno ‘bout dis.” When Jordan chucked him fondly under the chin, though, he nodded, chirping, “Yeah, Ok. I’m in, Coach!”

“That’s my boy!” Coach slapped him on the butt, causing Carver to jump in surprise. He was soon glowing with pride, though, acting like the butt slap was a terrific reward. 

River watched him, shaking his head. The only thing keeping him from running away from this crazy, faggy place was the prospect of being stuck with Falco for the rest of his life. He had to figure out how the guy died! When Jordan steered Carver toward a side door, he followed along behind, trying to ignore a creeping sense of dread.

He fell back from the coach and Carver so he could talk with Falco without the others hearing. “Mick said he’d tell me everything he knows after practice,” he explained. As always, Falco was standing too close and he had to push the dude away to get some space. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he did it. He flushed, feeling his ‘big man’ stand up from his Lycra-encased crotch; the mere sensation of Falco’s ghostly flesh was enough to turn him on. He reached down and scratched at himself, grimacing both at his erection and the itchy material of the singlet.

“Dat’s good, bro!” Falco replied, unaware of River’s discomfort or arousal. “You think he’s got anything good?”

River shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe? All I can say is he acted real sketchy when I mentioned yer name. I think he knows sumthin’.” He sighed in exasperation. “Which is why I’m on the way to see ‘Dr. Jellyfingers’ an’ get my junk groped. I fuckin’ hate physicals!”

***

Chapter 5

Just as he suspected, Dr. Anderson was a creepy doctor who got off on feeling up his patients. Coach Jordan ordered him and Carver to strip out of their singlets and stand naked next to each other while the ‘good doctor’ stuffed his hands into a pair of latex examination gloves.

Dr. Anderson was the epitome of cringe. Hunched over in his white lab coat, he peered at them through thick-rimmed glasses, a hungry leer on his face. Just the sight of him made River want to bolt. He forced himself to stand there obediently, though, and submit to the pervy doctor’s fondling. He kept his gaze straight ahead and his jaw set, loathing the indignity of it all. 

River had never found guys’ bodies the least bit attractive and being naked in front of them did nothing for him. While he was amply endowed in his own right (not as big as Falco but not far behind, either), showing off in front of the guys wasn’t a turn on. He kept his communal nudity as brief as possible, limiting it to changing into his uniform and taking a quick shower after practice. Guys weren’t meant to be naked in front of each other!

This physical examination represented everything he hated about sports. Even though the football team’s physician wasn’t as obviously queer as Dr. Anderson, River suspected the dude got off on fondling the players. His fingers always seemed to linger longer than was expressly necessary when checking for hernias or probing the prostate. River was looking forward to joining the NFL and being able to pick his own doctor. He was going to make sure to pick a hot lady doc!

Dr. Anderson’s hands on his equipment were bad enough but Falco’s devouring gaze was almost worse. He could feel the ghost ogling him and scowled when he looked over and caught Falco pleasuring himself. The dead dude was sporting a full hardon, stroking his big, thick member up and down. His long, black foreskin bunched up and over his glistening glans with each stroke. Falco’s tongue hung out of his mouth and he moaned softly.

River clenched his jaw, wondering how the fuck he’d let himself get talked into doing this. He hated Falco more than ever, wishing fervently for the ghost to disappear. He didn’t even believe in hell but he almost hoped it existed for Falco’s benefit. What had he done to deserve being haunted by a horny ghost, not to mention being fondled by a perverted doctor or forced to parade around in public wearing a wrestling singlet? If there was a God, He must hate River. That was the only explanation he could find for this humiliation.

“Ah, very nice!” Dr. Anderson praised, thrusting a jellied finger into River’s virgin manhole. “You’ve found another perfect specimen, Jim.” (Jim, apparently, was Coach Jordan’s first name.)

River choked when the doctor’s finger thrust against his prostate and he wanted badly to smash his fist into the asshole’s jaw. The humiliation of the intimate touch made him wither and he could feel his whole back and neck flushing red. Beside him, Carver merely grinned stupidly. River sort of envied him; this would be easier if he were just a happy idiot.

“HEY!” he barked when he felt something sharp jab into his penis. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Dr. Anderson gazed innocently up at him, eyeballs huge in the distorting lenses of his glasses. “Just a precaution, my boy! We can’t have you getting injured during practice or competition, can we?”

River glared down at him; his cock was aching furiously from where the doctor had emptied the syringe into it. “Whaddaya mean?” he demanded. “How ‘xactly does that–that–that–whatever that shit was you juss injected into me–keep me from getting injured?”

Dr. Anderson discarded the syringe before lifting his hands innocently. “I give it to all of the wrestlers. It’s the team policy.”

“What policy?”

Coach Jordan intervened, pushing himself off the wall upon which he’d been leaning to surreptitiously savor the sight of the two, naked jocks. “I’ll show you later, River,” he reassured. “It’s all on the up and up. Trust me, you’ll be happy with the results.”

River’s eyes narrowed. “What results?”

Jordan ignored him, saying instead, “C’mon, Carver, it’s yer turn now. River, you can get dressed if you like.” He jerked his chin over to the counter where a couple packages of red boxer shorts lay. 

“Can’t I get dressed in my regular clothes?” River asked as Dr. Anderson pulled on a new pair of latex gloves and moved over to fondle Carver’s massive equipment. “I’d like to go now.”

“Not yet,” Jordan said. “I have to go over your contracts after you’re done. Just wait here for Carver. It won’t take long.”

River wanted to argue, saying that he had no intention of signing a contract, but nonetheless found himself opening one of the packages of boxer shorts and stepping into the voluminous garment. Wearing boxers was preferable to being naked in front of these perverts!

The coach was right and it wasn’t long before Dr. Anderson was finished with Carver, injecting his dick with the same mysterious drug. While Carver grimaced in pain, bending over to step into the other pair of boxers, Jordan suggested, “How ‘bout if you boys hit the sauna before taking a shower? It’ll help you to relax and give me enough time to finish printing out your contracts.”

“Sure thing, bro!” Carver said cheerfully while River glowered behind him. River’s poor pecker was still throbbing from the doctor’s mysterious injection and he was getting more and more anxious. This experience was rapidly becoming a never-ending, gay nightmare and he couldn’t wait to get as far away from here as possible. There was no way in hell he’d ever join the wrestling team!

They stalked out of the exam room with Dr. Anderson smiling smugly behind them. Falco followed along, close on River’s heels. “Juss a sec, bro,” River called out to Carver. “I’ll catch up with ya. I need to drain the main vein.” When Carver grunted his assent, River rounded on Falco, hissing, “What the fuck, dude? I mean, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?! It’s bad enough gettin’ groped by that creepy doc but then seein’ ya beat yer ugly meat the whole time, too?!” He shivered in disgust. “I can’t fuckin’ wait until yer really and truly dead and gone!”

“That hurts, bro,” Falco pouted. “Do ya really gotta keep remindin’ me I’m dead? I mean, put yerself in my place. I don’t got nuthin’ no more. No body. No life. And, sure as shit, no sex. Ain’t I entitled to enjoy myself, too? I mean, look atcha! You got yer whole life and career ahead of ya! You get as much pussy as yer big dick can handle an’ I’m stuck with only crumbs!”

River was breathing heavily and had to force himself to relax. Why did Falco have to be so damned reasonable? When the ghost put it like that, River felt guilty. Reaching down to rub his aching prick, he sighed, “Jesus. Can this suck any more than it already does?”

Falco gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s rough, bro, but we’re gettin’ somewhere, ain’t we? All ya gotta do is find out what Mick knows and we’re on our way. You’ll be free to live yer life as a high falutin’ NFL pro quarterback an’ I’ll be finally dead. I mean, really dead. Not stuck here as a ghost.” He sighed unhappily as he said this, making River feel even worse.

“Alright, alright! Let’s go.” River turned to follow Carver but then stopped and turned around, putting his finger in Falco’s face. “Juss stay outta the sauna, Ok? I need a break from all this fuckin’ gay bullshit.” He shivered as he said this, still feeling the sensation of Dr. Anderson’s finger up his little butthole.

***

Carver was already ensconced on the top bench of the sauna when he entered. The tall jock was slumped against the cedar wall, an expression of pure ecstasy on his face. Seeing him fully naked except for the loose pair of boxers, River realized how beefy and hairy the dude was. Carver was even hairier than River and River prided himself on his thick forest of chest hair and unshorn pubes. He’d always curled his lip at the guys who manscaped. Apparently, he and Carver were kindred souls in this regard.

River climbed up on the bench next to him and, mindful of keeping at least a hand’s width between them, sat down. The air inside was so hot it burned his nostrils but it felt good. Better than good, actually. It felt fuckin’ great! He was soon slouched against the wall next to Carver, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

“Feels awesome, don’t it, bro?” The sound of Carver’s deep baritone was a soothing thud against River’s chest.  

“Fuck, yeah!” River couldn’t help moaning a little as he said this, mindful of how his entire body felt tingly, except his crotch which felt sort of…tight. Kind of like his junk was being squeezed. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, though, and he just lay back and let it happen. Yeah, he liked it! 

He lay like that that for a while, soaking in the delicious heat and the sharp scent of cedar, before rumbling, “Hey, dude, did ya notice our, um, uniforms,” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word, ‘singlet’, “changed color when we wore ‘em? They was red, wasn’t they?”

Carter thought about this for a while before agreeing. “Uh, yeah, bro, now that ya mention it, they was red.” He reached up and scratched his bearded chin, adding, “Dat is weird.”

“Real weird.” River shifted; the boxers were pinching his junk and he reached down to rearrange himself. He yanked his hand back, though, when he realized he was sporting an erection. What the fuck?! Why was he getting turned on? He cracked an eyelid and looked over at Carver to see if the dude had noticed but Carver was way too relaxed; he looked like he was ready to doze off. River relaxed, taking his hand away and letting his erection thrust out against the increasingly tight fabric of the boxers.

“This whole mornin’s been weird, though,” Carver drawled.

“True dat.”

River was really warming up to the big jock. Carver might be dumb but he was a good guy. And he was straight, too, a rare creature around these parts. He sighed, savoring this newfound sense of brotherhood as he shifted his butt around on the bench. Was there a pillow beneath him? He didn’t remember the bench having any padding but he was too relaxed to bother checking it out. He was so comfortable! And he really liked being there with Carver, an honest-to-goodness normal dude. Yeah, after the total mindfuck of a morning, it was nice to have a normal dude for company. With Carver, he didn’t have to worry about anything weird happening.

They sat in companionable silence for a long time, sighing contentedly. Time seemed to slow down and the bizarre situation disappeared from their minds. As the heat permeated his body, River’s mind grew fuzzy and euphoric. He felt like he was drifting in a pleasant pink haze. He was so at ease that he didn’t even care about being turned on in front of Carver. No, it felt normal to just be a guy with a hardon, sitting beside another guy. It wasn’t gay or anything because they weren’t touching. Wasn’t this the way life as a man was supposed to be? He stirred then, trying to get comfortable on the thick pillow beneath him and tugging at the tight boxers. The pinching continued unabated, though, no matter what he did. He decided he didn’t care.

“Hey, bro?”

River cracked an eyelid and looked over at Carver, doing a double take when he saw the dude’s underwear. Carver was wearing a pair of pink panties! “WTF, dude?” he demanded. “Were you wearin’ those under yer boxers or sumthin’?” He laughed. “Super fruity!”

Carver arched a fuzzy eyebrow. “You mean like yer panties?”

River started to laugh but then stopped in stunned surprise when he realized he was wearing an identical pair of panties. Falco had teased him the night before about his ‘before sex’ briefs being panties but, unlike those briefs, these were actual panties, complete with the delicate lace and tiny pouch for his manhood. 

As much as he was gobsmacked at seeing himself clad in a frilly pair of girl’s panties, though, something else shocked him even more. “Hey, bro!” he exclaimed, looking from his crotch over to Carver’s. “What the fuck happened to our–”

He was interrupted by the door opening as Mick entered the sauna. The little guy was clad in a pair of pink panties just like theirs. And, just like them, he had a complete of absence of–

“Scoot over,” he urged, climbing up on the bench and settling in between them. Too shocked to do anything else, they tried to make room but his butt was so big that both River and Carver’s thighs and butts were touching his. Putting his hands behind his head and leaning back, he asked in a light, lilting voice, “So, guys?” A triumphant smile creased his pouty lips. “How’s it feel?”

River’s brain was having trouble processing everything that was happening and he could only ask dumbly, “Uh, how’s what feel?” Why did his voice sound so high-pitched all of a sudden?

Mick turned and smirked at him, running his eyes down the length of River’s transformed body. “How’s it feel to be a pussy boy? Not such a big man anymore, are ya?” He giggled as he said this, the sound of his laughter echoing off the walls of the sauna.

***

Chapter 6

“It could be worse, bro.”

River lifted his head from his little hands–tender and tiny as an adolescent boy’s–and stared balefully up at Falco. “Really?” 

To make his voice sound deeper, he had to force himself to talk in a deeper register, a trick he’d learned as a pre-teen boy before his voice changed. It didn’t work all that well and his voice still sounded shrill to his ears. God, what he wouldn’t do to get his deep, manly voice back! Not to mention everything else manly that he’d lost during those two, terrible hours in Coach Jordan’s lair.

Falco settled down on the couch next to him, his great weight causing the cushions to sag and River to lean toward him. He slid downward, his big, hard butt pressing against Falco’s thigh. He struggled to push himself away but Falco was too heavy and his butt was too big. Pretending to yawn, Falco stretched and laid his arm across the back of the sofa. In a moment, it had slipped down to lie across River’s narrow shoulders. 

River shook it off, ordering, “No touching! ‘Specially not now! I don’t fuckin’ trust you not to take advantage of me!”

This was a new concern for poor River. He’d realized during his panicked flight out across campus that he was now prey, rather than predator. It was something he’d never thought about before. He’d always been a big, studly jock who towered over his peers. He was so accustomed to the power and privilege bestowed by his superior height and muscles that he’d taken his status for granted. Now that he stood just under five feet tall, though, he was on par with midgets, children and short women and people treated him accordingly.

When he’d waddled out of the sauna, staggering under the weight and heft of his big ass and trying to adapt to a body that was suddenly much smaller and shorter, he’d discovered that none of his old clothes fit him, not even his shoes. Worse, the whole wrestling team was waiting for him in the locker room, eager to gloat over his downfall. While the guys howled at his shrunken stature and inflated buttocks, he’d thrown on his t-shirt over his panties and made a break for it, pattering barefoot across campus to the safety of his apartment. Falco had followed along behind him, getting prurient delight out of River’s new body.

River knew he’d looked like a total freak with the baggy t-shirt hanging off of his greatly-reduced frame. His fat, stubby legs kept tripping over the hem as he wobbled along. People had stopped and pointed at him, laughing. He withered under their derision, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. His mind was awash with horror, trying desperately to come to terms with the impossible fact that he’d lost over a foot and half of height and all of his muscles had somehow redistributed downwards, settling in his ass and thighs. 

Now that he was back home, he was still fighting back tears. He teetered on the couch next to Falco, each of his ass cheeks as big and round as an over-inflated basketball. Why were they so hard? Shouldn’t his butt be soft?

“Look at this way,” Falco soothed, lowering his hand back down onto River’s shoulders. “Yer hella cute now. Shit, I’d fuck ya in a heartbeat, little guy!”

River glared at the ghost. “Yer NEVER gonna have the pleasure, asshole! In fact, I’m NEVER gonna help ya again. YER the reason this happened to me and I’m NEVER gonna forgive you!” He lifted his little arm and pointed to the door. “NOT GET OUT! I NEVER WANNA SEE YA AGAIN!”

Falco didn’t move.

River stared at him, clenching his chubby hands into fists. If Falco wasn’t already dead, he would have killed him right then…but the sad truth was he was powerless. Completely powerless. Just like everyone else, Falco didn’t take him seriously now he was the size of a child. He looked down at his tiny hands and shrunken body, trembling with both fear and outrage. How the fuck could this happen to him?

It took him a long time to claw his way back from the brink of despair. His beleaguered brain still refused to believe this had happened to him. It shouldn’t be possible for a guy to shrink at all, much less in a couple hours! How the fuck?! He sighed. He didn’t have the luxury of figuring it out right now. Somehow, he had to change himself back and–as much as it galled him to admit it–he needed Falco’s help to do that. Yeah, the shitty truth was Falco was the key to getting his old body back.

“Listen,” he said in as deep of a voice as he could muster, “you wanna fuck me, right?”

Falco nodded, eyes lighting up.

River swallowed, tender butthole clenching at the unwelcome thought of being fucked by the ghost’s massive cock. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, “Then you gotta help me out. If you help me change back, I’ll let ya do anything ya want to me. Deal?”

This was a huge sacrifice for River. He had absolutely no interest in engaging in gay sex with Falco. Plus, his masculine pride rested on his heterosexuality. He looked down on homos, believing they weren’t really men.  To agree to give up all of that, well, let’s just say this was the lowest he’d ever sunk. Just hearing the words coming out of his mouth made him want to vomit.

But what choice did he have?

Suddenly, the tables had been turned and now he needed Falco more than the ghost needed him. Or at least just as much.

River held up a hand, blocking Falco when he tried to lean in and kiss him. “Nope!” he stated. “Not til I’m back in my old body.”

“But–”

“No buts.” River shifted on the cushion, feeling his big, hard globes rolling beneath him. “And no butt, either. Once I’m back, you can have my ass as yer personal plaything but not until I’m restored.”

Falco pouted. “But I like yer butt better now! Pah-leeze, bro! Can’t I have a little reward now? Juss a tiny downpayment!”

River frowned at the words, ‘little’ and ‘tiny’. “No! Nuthin’ til I’m back ‘xactly the way I was!”

“Yer so mean!” Falco’s lip was sticking out. “I hate you.”

“Good, now–”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. River panicked when he thought it was one of his girlfriends coming over for a booty call. There’s no way he could let them see him like this! They’d laugh their fuckin’ head off! Plus, his pee-pee had shrunk along with everything else and he doubted it was even big enough to penetrate a pussy. He relaxed a moment later when he heard a boy’s voice calling out through the door.

“Bro? Hey, River? You there?”

“It’s Carver, I think,” Falco informed him, furrowing his eyebrows. “Whoa. Does he ever look different now!”

“Carver?” River demanded. “How can you tell? It sounds like my kid brother.”

Falco shrugged. “I can see him. Didn’t I tell ya I can see through walls, bro?”

River sighed, pushing himself off of the sofa. He nearly fell flat on his face as he did so. Why was the floor so far down? And then he had to struggle to find his balance as his mountainous ass cheeks bounced from side to side. Jesus, they really were like a couple of heavy basketballs!

He still couldn’t get over how different everything looked now that his perspective had shifted downward so far. Not to mention how his brain couldn’t figure out how to move in such a condensed body. He felt nauseous and he windmilled his stubby arms to stay on his feet. He was so short! 

He waddled over to the entryway and lifted his hand to the door knob. (He couldn’t believe it! He actually had to reach up to grab the fucking door knob now!) He tugged it open, only to be nearly knocked over when Carver threw himself into his arms. Staggering backward, he instinctively hugged the dwarf to him. Carver buried his face in his shoulder and sobbed. 

River stood there, patting the dude awkwardly on the back. It took him a moment before he realized that Carver was actually taller than him. The little dude was probably a couple inches bigger which meant Carver at least was over the crucial five foot mark. He clenched his jaw, furious at the injustice of it all. Why did he have to be the shorter one?

“I’m so scared!” Carver wailed, clutching him so tightly that River had to gasp for air. “Please take care of me! I need a man to take care of me!”

River was tempted to laugh at these words. Was he even still a man? He certainly didn’t look like one. Although, unlike Carver, he did still sport a stubbly beard and plenty of chest hair. He lifted his head away to survey Carver more closely, taking note of the dude’s smooth, chubby cheeks. The little guy was wearing a backwards pink ball cap and a pink tank top that would have been more suited to an eight-year-old girl than a twenty-something guy. Yeah, there was no doubt about it: Carver had femmed out. Big time.

“Carver,” he began gently, trying to recapture his old baritone.

“Call me Kit,” Carver said. “Please?”

“‘Kit’?” River repeated. “Why?”

Carver sniffled, rubbing his nose on River’s shoulder. “‘Cuz that’s the name Coach Jordan gave me.”

“Really? But that’s–”

“And yer name’s Rio now,” Carver–er, Kit–interrupted.

River went cold and Falco laughed behind him. “‘Rio’?!” he shouted, outraged. “No way! Nobody’s gonna call me that!”

Kit nodded. “It’s either that or RiRi.”

“Listen, Car–I mean, Kit,” River insisted, “You are NEVER to call me Rio or RiRi. Got it? My name’s River. RIVER!”

Kit looked confused. “Well, Ok, if ya say so, R-R-Ri-ver. But Coach Jordan ain’t gonna like it.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care what Coach Jordan thinks! MY NAME IS RIVER!”

“Rio?” Falco murmured behind him. “I like it. It suits you.”

River spun around, holding his finger in Falco’s face…or trying to. He was so short now that his finger only reached up to the big ghost’s belly. “I swear if ya call me that,” he yelled, “yer big, ugly dick’s never gonna come anywhere near my butthole. Got it?”

“Uh, who’re ya talking to?” Kit asked.

River turned back to the little dude. “Never mind.” He’d forgotten that Falco was visible only to him; the ghost was just so convincingly corporeal that he had trouble remembering that he was made out of ectoplasm. “Why’d ya shave? It makes ya look even more like a kid, dude.”

Kit hung his head. “Coach Jordan gave me a pill. Tole me it’d suppress my hormones. Said I needed to look my part.” He sniffed loudly, wiping his nose across the back of his hand. “I didn’t realize what it’d do to me. I mean, look!” He pulled up his pink tank top to expose a completely hairless chest. That in itself was surprising enough, especially considering how hairy Carver had been. But it was something else entirely that caused River to goggle in shock: A pair of large, pink, droopy nipples depended from Kit’s nascent pecs. Kit grinned, proclaiming, “I got titties now!”

River was unwillingly transfixed by those nipples. He stared, mouth hanging open, only snapping out of it when a rope of drool slid out of the corner of his lips. He straightened, mindful of Kit’s probing gaze on his face. The little guy was watching him closely, gauging River’s reaction. 

In the back of his mind, River was vaguely aware that his ironclad heterosexuality was under threat. And then a thought came out of nowhere, startling him: Maybe being queer wasn’t so bad after all? Especially if, by being queer, he got to enjoy a pair of titties like Kit’s! He swallowed, still staring. The whole time, Kit’s wide, blue eyes blinked back at him.

Slowly, it hit him.

Kit was absolutely adorable.

Fucking adorable.

Emphasis on fucking.

Unwillingly, River felt his tiny prick stiffen in his panties. (He was still wearing his oversized t-shirt and panties from the sauna.) Kit’s eyes drifted downward, taking in the sight of River’s tiny bulge. His cheeks turned bright pink.

And then they were kissing.

Kit clung to him tightly, his soft, tender lips finding River’s. Their little crotches pressed together and Kit’s tiny peanut rubbed against his own. He pulled the little guy’s tank top over his head and tossed it aside. Then he was unzipping Kit’s shorts, shimmying them down the guy’s thick thighs. 

Kit was naked in his arms, wearing only his lacey panties.

River wanted him.

Wanted him bad.

***

Chapter 7

“Dude. DUDE!” Falco called out behind him, agitated. “What ‘bout me?! It ain’t fair! Why’re ya doin’ it with him an’ ya won’t even lemme touch ya?!”

River reluctantly tore his lips away from Kit’s. Twisting his head around to glare at the ghost, he ordered, “You stay here. If you follow us into my bedroom, I swear I’m gonna call a priest and have ya exorcised!”

Falco’s face went pale. “You wouldn’t!” he dared but he was already taking a step back, his giant cock–which had been stiff as a board a moment earlier–softening. 

Kit stirred in River’s arms. “Huh?”

River silenced him with another kiss.

There was something irresistible about Kit. He was just so tiny and soft and smooth and perfect. His little body melted against River’s hard muscularity. (Unlike Kit, River had lost none of his firmness, probably because he hadn’t taken the pill that Jordan forced on Kit.) His mouth was open and receptive to River’s domination and his cheeks were like pillows against his scratchy beard. River swept the ball cap off of Kit’s head and ran his hands through the dude’s silken locks. Kit’s blond hair was thick and luxurious, a pleasing contrast to his incredibly soft, hairless body.

“Yer cock is so big!” Kit purred, sliding his hand into River’s panties. “You got a real man-sized dick, bro!”

River chuckled, absurdly flattered. (He was in dire need of anything to boost his shattered masculine pride right then.) When he slid his own hand down into Kit’s panties, he jerked reflexively at the touch of the guy’s microscopic penis, completely absent testicles and hairless pubes. Kit no longer had anything that resembled his previously hulking manhood. What the fuck had happened to him? He has  a clit, River marveled. A tiny clit!

Kit giggled at his touch and then took River’s hand and moved it over onto his own penis. River gasped when he felt his ‘big man’ for the first time since losing everything. His penis! Fuck, where had it gone?! The pathetic knob that remained was less than three inches long! How had this happened to his big nine-incher! His beautiful nine-incher was gone! Fuck fuck FUCK!

“Mmmmm, I like it. I want it!” Kit’s hand was back on River’s dick, gently stroking him. “Can I have it? I mean inside me? I’ve never been fucked before but now it’s all I can think ‘bout. Pound my little bussy! Pound me hard!”

River didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at these surreal words coming out of Kit’s formerly proudly hetero mouth. On the one hand, he was in deep mourning over the loss of his manhood. And, on the other, he was insanely aroused by Kit. He’d never touched anything as soft and alluring as this shrunken jock’s body! It short-circuited his brain, crossing wires and making him realize he wanted to fuck this guy in the worst way. Kit had everything a woman had and more.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Oh, fuck it! Who cares? I want his pussy!

The last shreds of his heterosexually fluttered to the floor at his little feet and he urged Kit into his bedroom. Once inside, he sneered back at Falco before slamming the door hard. The ghost watched him with a wounded expression on his handsome face. It was almost enough to make River feel bad. Almost.

He bent down and (with effort) lifted Kit onto the bed. (Had it always been that high?) Laid out beneath him on the mattress, Kit’s blond hair fanned out on the pillow and he was displayed in all his nubile glory. His body was more like a woman’s now, all curves and soft padding, especially his ample ass and thighs. His upper body was slight and his arms were thin. His nipples were erect and large, swollen into a pair of near-breasts. (Breast adjacent?) His eyes were round as he gazed up at River, pouty lips parted and eager.

River searched for any lingering traces of the towering rugby jock from earlier in the day but there weren’t any. The old Carver had been completely erased and remade into this…this…this beautiful creature lying beneath him. A beautiful creature who was open and willing and hungry for him. Hungry for him, River Jansen!

“Lemme see you,” Kit pleaded. “I wanna see you naked like me. Let’s compare. It makes me hot seeing how manly you are!”

River hesitated, not yet willing to remove his own meager clothing and expose himself. He hadn’t actually seen his body completely naked yet and didn’t relish the prospect. When Kit reached out and tugged his t-shirt over his head, though, he didn’t resist. And then the little jock was pulling down River’s panties. River closed his eyes, sitting up and letting the dude strip him bare. He tossed the hated panties aside, vowing never to wear them again. Only then did he open his eyes to look down at himself.

“Fuck.”

It was worse than he’d thought.

He looked like a total fucking freak!

How come Kit looked like such a delicious little morsel while he just looked like an ugly dwarf?

A very hairy dwarf.

He scowled as he stared at the hideously distorted caricature of a jock’s body…his body now. He had short, stubby arms and a narrow chest. Short, stubby legs and giant thighs. And a huge caboose hanging off the back of him. Shaking with humiliation, he reached back and cupped those big, firm globes. Each one was perfectly round and hard as a rock. And beyond big.

Two basketballs made out of concrete.

His ass had turned into concrete basketballs!

And his penis.

Fuck, his penis!

It wasn’t even boy-sized!

The stubby prick barely poked out of the forest of his brown pubes.

A choad.

He had a fuckin’ choad!

“My big man.”

Startled by Kit’s voice–he’d almost forgotten about the cute little cherub!–he looked down to find the adorable pygmy staring up at him with starry eyes. He blinked in disbelief. How could anyone find him attractive now? Like this?

“Yer perfect,” Kit cooed, reaching out to him with his chubby hands. “Take care of me,” he begged, “please!”

He pulled him down on top of him, sighing at the weight and heft of River’s body. (River, while greatly shrunken, hadn’t lost any mass; it had simply been condensed into a much smaller, more compact frame.) They kissed, their little nubs dueling, until River gradually worked his way downward to titillate Kit’s big tits. He licked and sucked them, nibbling them until Kit was crying out with ecstasy. And then, pulling Kit’s panties down his thick, hairless thighs, he lowered himself down and did the unthinkable: He licked a man’s cock for the first time in his life.

It was more like a clit, he decided, which made it less objectionable.

Yeah, Kit’s cock was basically the size and shape of a clit. And River’s tongue had plenty of experience with clits. He’d soon worked the little dude into a near frenzy. Seeing Kit so worked up got him worked up, too. His choad was pulsing, alive and almost as hard as his concretized ass cheeks.

He pushed Kit’s legs apart and licked the length of his taint. It was hairless and soft like a woman’s. And his hole, River realized with startled delight, was the tiniest, cutest, pinkest pucker he’d ever seen.

How could he not want to fuck it?

It was the sweetest little bootyhole imaginable!

The only problem was finding a position where his choad could reach it.

That wasn’t easy.

Kit’s ass was even bigger than River’s now. A billowing mound of soft fat, so overstuffed that it rippled under its own weight. So big, so round, so smooth, so pink! It was incredibly alluring but it’s great size also frustrated his attempts to fuck it.

River had plenty of motivation, though. He was determined to satisfy Kit’s increasingly plaintive demands to be fucked by a ‘big man-cock’ and finally, after much effort, managed to redistribute those plump mounds, pushing them apart and wedging his crotch between them. Kit’s hole was plenty wet with River’s saliva and incredibly he felt the little guy’s ass lips part and practically suck him inside. He threw back his head and moaned, feeling his mushroom-sized cockhead slip inside that moist, eager butthole.

He was fucking a guy!

His dick was inside a guy’s asshole!

Kit mewled like a kitten and River grunted like a piglet, ramming his shrunken pee-pee into the first man pussy of his life. It wasn’t the most satisfying sex of his life–his cock was far too tiny for that now–but it got the job done. If he thrust really hard, he could get about a half inch of his dick inside the little guy’s hole. It felt amazing but it was also torture; he couldn’t stop thinking about how much better it would be if he had all of his missing dick inches. If he was going to fuck a guy’s hole, he wished he could at least do it right!

There were other distractions that made it difficult for him to concentrate–His massively enlarged and hardened ass cheeks flopped heavily behind him and he simply couldn’t get comfortable in his body–but Kit was exuberant, screaming his praises at the top of his little lungs. He made River feel like the biggest, hungest, sexiest man in the world…for a moment at least. And that moment was all he needed to explode in orgasm.

Cum dribbled out of his choad and he arched his back, trying to empty his seed inside Kit. Mostly it spattered here and there on Kit’s big butt but a drop or two might have landed on his tiny manhole. It would have to do. It had to do. River hung his head when he realized that this was as good as sex would get in this body.

He had to change back!

He couldn’t live like this!

Being this small was almost worse than death.

Or maybe it was worse than death? Falco was dead and he still had his same body. River gritted his teeth, hating the ghost even more.

“Lick my clit!” Kit begged, distracting him from his self pity. “C’mon, bro! Lick my little clit! I wanna cum, too!”

River shook himself and got down to business, enclosing Kit’s entire package in his mouth and proceeding to torment the guy into a fit of hysterics. Soon Kit was writhing on the bed beneath him as River’s tongue did things to that little clit that Kit had never dreamed possible. His shrieks of delight helped assuage River’s bruised ego and he found himself getting into it. He even worked a stubby finger into Kit’s asshole, just about reaching his prostate. Between his probing tongue and roving finger, Kit nearly passed out with bliss.

Thanks to Coach Jordan’s pill, the little guy was so feminized that couldn’t get hard anymore so River had no idea how close he was to climaxing. It was weird massaging a limp fold of flesh with his tongue! But Kit must have really enjoyed the sensation because he was pleading for more. When he finally came, spurting a tiny jet of cum onto River’s tongue, his face was beet red and his entire body was drenched with sweat. He came and came and came, his tiny body wracked by potent spasms. Only after a very long time did he wear himself out, collapsing in a puddle of quivering flesh on the bed.

“That…was…the…best…fuckin’…sex…ever!” he panted, lifting his head to grin at River. His blond locks were plastered to the side of his face. “Yer such a stud!”

River crept up the bed and gingerly settled himself down on top of Kit, savoring his soft, sweaty body. Oh, how he wished he had a big cock again! Kit might have just enjoyed the best sex of his life but the experience had been far less as exalting for River. He put his game face on, though, and lowered his lips to kiss the cute little guy.

“I’m glad,” he murmured. “And I think yer insanely hot, too.” He kissed Kit again and their tongues met. He felt his cock stir but decided he wasn’t up for another go. Things were just too weird right now. He needed time. Time to think. Time to adjust to the idea of being queer. Time to figure out how to change himself back.

“I’m glad I could be yer last.”

River looked up questioningly at these words. “Huh?”

Kit smiled but it wasn’t a nice sort of smile. “Yer last fuck, dude.”

“What do you mean?” River was struggling to figure out why the mood had shifted so abruptly. He stared at Kit, stunned by the sudden and unexpected cold hatred contained in those blue eyes.

Lip curling, Kit held something up in front of his face. River stared at it, realizing it was a pill. “Yer gonna take this now,” Kit explained, a hard edge to his voice. “And then yer gonna be juss like me.”

River’s eyes widened as he understood just what the pill in Kit’s hand was, where it had come from, and what it would do to him.

“C’mon, ‘big man’!” Kit teased, all traces of his former sweetness gone. “Swallow this down now. I wanna watch you turn into a total pussified freak. Just like me.”

***

Chapter 8

River wrestled furiously with Kit but somehow, despite his apparent lack of muscles, Kit got the better of him. (Apparently, under all that soft fat, some traces of his former rugby jock muscles remained.) River writhed under Kit, trying to get free as the tiny guy–still holding the pill between his teeth–lowered his head. Kit grinned maniacally, the horrible pill only inches from River’s mouth.

“I won’t swallow it!” River hissed, twisting his face away. “You can’t make me!”

In answer, Kit grabbed his balls and squeezed. River screamed. And that was all it took. Kit dropped the pill and it tumbled into River’s mouth, lodging in the back of his throat.

“Haha!” Kit crowed. “Say goodbye to yer manhood, bro! Yer gonna look juss like me in a few minutes!”

River choked, trying to cough up the pill but instead it slid further down his throat. He panicked, trying once again to fight Kit off but it was no use. Kit sat like a lead weight on his stomach, going nowhere. Despair flooded into him. I can’t be a pussyboy! he thought, wrestling futilely. I can’t! Just as he was about to give up and accept his pussified fate, though, a deep voice whispered in his ear, “C’mon, bro. Lemme in.”

It was Falco.

The ghost was there beside him, waiting for River to do something. The question was what?

When he hesitated, Falco urged, “Lemme take over. Ya know, possess yer body!”

River wanted to shout back his refusal but he was more worried about swallowing the pill. He doubled down, frantically trying to throw Kit off one last time but he failed. A grim reality settled over him as he realized he had no choice but to accept the ghost’s offer. Being possessed by Falco was almost the last thing he wanted but he wanted even less to be a fat-assed, clit-dicked pussyboy. Being a hairy dwarf with two basketballs for ass cheeks was bad enough but at least he still had his vaunted masculinity. That was something at least. Oh, fuck it! he thought, resigning himself to the ghost. With Kit gloating on top of him, he lay back and gave in to Falco.

The ghost slid inside his body and River braced. He felt Falco’s influence first in his mind as the ghost took control of his thoughts. For the moment at least, Falco’s mind was his own and he saw the world through his eyes. The big jock’s memories flooded into his mind: His childhood years in Brazil and then his move to the States where he fell in love with the game of football…as well as a certain handsome quarterback. River gave a start when he saw himself as Falco did: A strong, macho, cocky, hung, hairy stud. To Falco, he was a total bro who oozed sexiness and authority from his pores but also one who was soft-hearted, furiously rejecting anyone who got too close.

River marveled at this revelation. Falco loves me! he thought, unable to believe it. But it was true, all of the feelings were there; he couldn’t deny them. Suddenly he understood why he was the only one who could see Falco. He kicked himself for being so dense.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder any of this, not with the hateful pill sliding inexorably further down his throat. He had to give up more control to Falco, surrender everything if he stood a chance at saving himself. Reluctantly, he relinquished his body, giving the ghost full possession of every part of him.

Falco didn’t hesitate; indeed, he was already taking control. River’s eyes rolled back as he felt the full power of Falco’s massive muscles flow into his own. It was like his body swelled again, regaining all of its former power…and then some. Falco was a really strong dude! He filled River to overflowing, making it simple to flip the suddenly hapless Kit off of him.

Kit’s eyes widened as River hurled him onto the floor. River jumped off the bed, Falco’s delicious power coursing through his veins. He loomed over the tiny, terrified guy, seething with rage. He’d never felt so infuriated! The sting of betrayal and humiliation did that to him.

“P-P-Pah-leeze!” Kit begged, getting on his knees and bowing down before him. “Don’t hurt me! I-I-I didn’t mean it! I’m juss doin’ what Coach Jordan made me do!”

River turned his head and spat out the bitter pill; it ricocheted against the wall before clattering across the floor and landing under the bed. Then he clenched his fists and shouted, “LEAVE NOW!” He pointed to the door.

Kit didn’t need to be told twice. He skittered out of the bedroom and the apartment, completely naked. He didn’t even bother to grab his panties first. When he reached the door, though, he turned and spat, “Yer nuthin’ but an ugly fuckin’ peewee, ya know that? I had to pretend to be turned on by you.” He made a disgusted face. “Yuck! Yer ugly as fuck! And ya look ridiculous, too! You’ll never fuck nobody again! Not now that yer a hairy, bowlegged dwarf! Get used to bein’ alone!” With one last smirk, he slammed the door behind him.

The words were like a sucker punch to the gut and River collapsed onto his knees in despair. It’s the truth, he thought, looking down at his diminished body and tiny hands. I’m a freak! I’m an unfuckable freak! Shit, even my dick’s too tiny to fuck anymore!

He was completely humiliated. He couldn’t believe he’d been naive enough to think that Kit actually found him attractive. Of course he wasn’t attractive! How could he be? He was a fuckin’ midget! But, no, rather than seeing himself as he was now, his male ego had been only too eager to lap up Kit’s praises, happily falling for his ploy. He shook his head, holding his face in his hands, overwhelmed by self-loathing. He was a freak. A fucking ugly freak.

He was so immersed in self pity that he didn’t even feel Falco slide back out of him. Only when the ghost moaned on the floor beside him did he look up. “Falco!” he exclaimed. “Whatsa matter? What happened to you?!”

Falco’s aura was faint and growing fainter. Grimacing with pain, he murmured, “I…saved…you, bro.”

“I know that! But why’re ya so weak now?”

Falco smiled. “I guess it’s ‘cuz a ghost ain’t ‘sposed to possess no one. It ain’t allowed…” His voice trailed off and he had to work hard to finish. “I think it’s over for me now, bro.” He coughed, body fading until it was just a pallid outline. “Ya finally got rid of me. Yer free, bro. No more ghost hauntin’ ya…”

“NO!” River screamed, grabbing him by the beefy shoulders. His hands encountered almost no resistance as they touched the fading ectoplasm. “YOU CAN’T GO! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!” He sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I NEED YOU!”

Without thinking, he threw himself on top of Falco and, taking the ghost’s face in his hands, kissed him.

He kissed him!

He fucking kissed him!

Falco’s eyes went round as River’s lips touched his. He lifted his hands and, cradling River’s head in his hands, reciprocated, opening his mouth and gently licking River’s tongue. The ghost sighed with relief as their tongues merged, interpenetrating each other. For a moment, their bodies merged once again. This time, however, Falco didn’t possess him. No, this time was the opposite. River felt his own vitality pouring into the ghost. He didn’t experience it as a loss, though. If anything, he felt even more alive. It was as if by sharing himself with Falco, they were both reinvigorated.

Falco’s spectral body solidified beneath him and gradually River felt his warmth begin to radiate once again. Falco’s muscles filled out, expanding and pushing River’s little legs out further as he straddled him. Flooded with relief, River threw his arms around Falco’s bull neck and hugged him. Falco grunted with happiness, pulling him even closer until their mouths were mashed together.

They made out for a long time. It was the most intense and intimate feeling! River had had sex hundreds of times with dozens of women (and now one guy) but nothing could ever compare to this. It was like Falco and he were inseparable, their hearts intertwined and their bodies filled to overflowing as the throes of passion cycled through them, growing ever more ecstatic and erotic.

Finally, River couldn’t take it any longer and he broke away, rolling off of Falco to lie face up on the floor. He was gasping for breath and his body thrummed with a desire that was so intense it burned. His little choad was hard and throbbing. He wanted Falco in the worst way.

And that was what disturbed him.

He couldn’t stand such queer intensity. Not right on the heels of his ignominious sexual encounter with Kit. It was too much. And it was wrong. He wasn’t gay! And he certainly didn’t want Falco to fuck him! He looked back at the ghost and blanched when he saw the immense size and girth of that giant member. It was the biggest, ugliest club he’d ever seen. His virginal butthole clenched at the sight.

He could fuck a guy with tits, a clit and a huge, soft ass.

But could he stand to be fucked by a big, virile, hung man? Even if that man was a ghost?

Never!

“I-I-I’m tired,” he stammered, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I need to sleep.” He was about to retreat to his bed when he remembered something critical. “FUCK FUCK FUCK!” he swore, clapping his hand to his forehead. “Tomorrow morning’s the National Scouting Combine! FUCK FUCK FUCK! An’ I’m ‘sposed to be there!” He looked down at his shrunken, hairy body, feeling his giant concrete ass cheeks rolling around beneath him. They were so big that, lying on his back on the floor, he tilted backward like an unbalanced seesaw, his little legs kicking in the air. “I CAN’T SHOW UP LOOKING LIKE THIS!!!” Tears filled his eyes. “I’ll never get signed as a pro football player looking like this! Fuck, I’ve worked my whole life for this and now I’m a fuckin’ midget!” He covered his face with his hands, sobbing openly.

Falco stirred next to him, rolling over on his side and propping his head on an elbow. “The NFL scouts are comin’ here tomorrow? Fuck, what with bein’ dead an’ all, I completely forgot!”

River didn’t hear him. He was sliding into a black pit of despair, unable to believe that his lifetime dream of being a pro quarterback was now completely unattainable. It was the end of his dreams. His whole identity had rested on his football prowess and now it was gone. Completely and utterly gone.

“I think I know a way to help,” Falco offered, sitting up and pushing his erection between his furry thighs. “But yer not gonna like it.”

***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Standing in a stall in the men’s restroom adjacent to the locker room, River looked up pleadingly at Falco. “Do I have to do it this way? Why don’t you just possess me again? That’d be easier.”

“No, this is the best way.” Impatient, Falco wagged his hulking cock–already half hard–in River’s face. The ghost was so tall and River was so short that the big, fat, dripping dick was only inches from his mouth. “If I possess ya again, I could die. For a second time, I mean. I don’t wanna do that.”

River swallowed uncomfortably, trying not to look at the ghost’s ugly club. The skin of Falco’s dick was darker than the rest of his body, chestnut brown at the base and blackening to ebony as it tapered down to his ridiculously long, floppy foreskin. The odor wafting off of it was truly repugnant, like mushrooms and sour milk.

“Jesus, why aren’t ya circumcised?” he complained, batting the cock away from his lips. “Ya stink! Don’t ya ever wash that thing?”

“It’s just my musk, bro,” Falco replied, shrugging his shoulders. “We Brazilians don’t chop off our dicks like you stupid Americans.”

“My dick’s not chopped off!” River protested. “I juss don’t have a foreskin. It’s cleaner. Nicer. Healthier.”

 “An’ littler,” Falco commented, smiling wryly.

“Shut up! You promised not to tease me about my size!”

“Sorry.” Somehow, though, Falco didn’t seem apologetic. “Now suck my cock, bro. I’m hornier than shit. Do ya know how long it’s been since I’ve cum?”

“Do I have to?” River whined, backing away until his concrete ass cheeks pressed against the cold steel of the walls of the bathroom stall.

“Yep. Unless ya don’t wanna be a pro footballer.” Falco shrugged again. “It’s up to you.”

River grimaced. Licking Kit’s clit was one thing but sucking a huge, oozing cock was quite another. Could he even fit it inside his mouth? “Are ya sure this’ll work?” he asked, sounding plaintive. “Yer not juss tryna get me to suck yer cock, are ya?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Falco admitted, “but I’m pretty certain.” When River still hesitated, he added, “Look, if it don’t work, I’ll possess ya, Ok? It’ll prolly kill me but I’m willin’ to do it for ya, bro.”

River was silent, weighing his options. He could suck a cock or get possessed. With the former, he’d sacrifice his dignity and, er, swallow his pride. With the latter, he’d sacrifice Falco’s existence. Which was more important to him? He shook his head at himself when he realized that a day ago the answer would have been easy but now that he’d shared so much with Falco–become a part of him, even merged his heart with the big jock–he quailed at the idea of losing him. Plus, he needed Falco’s help if he ever hoped to regain his former size. No, he wouldn’t be responsible for killing his friend a second time. 

He’d rather suck cock.

And that’s what he did.

Falco sat down on the seat of the toilet and spread his legs. River got down on his little knees and leaned forward, opening his mouth and taking a man’s cock inside him for the first time. He gagged as the huge, throbbing organ stuffed his mouth beyond capacity. Falco moaned and arched his back, pushing his big man in deeper. River’s stomach churned and he fought for air but somehow he managed to swallow the nasty thing down. Holding the club at the base, he even remembered to slick back the dude’s voluminous foreskin, releasing Falco’s tender glans. That round, slick cockhead caressed the back of his throat, driving Falco wild. The ghost’s hips bucked upward and his hand clapped onto the back of River’s head, forcing him downward. And then he spewed his load.

Fighting back the urge to vomit, River felt Falco’s potent seed spurting down his esophagus, filling him to overflowing with cum. He could’ve sworn he felt his tummy expand, bloating up with load after load of ghost semen.

It was the worst experience of his life.

And also the best.

There were two reasons for this. 

First, while River was grossed out by the act of blowing another dude, he was also, ahem, blown away by it. The mere touch of Falco’s skin against his own was enough to send him over the moon. But such an incredibly intimate form of contact; i.e., having Falco’s penis touch his mouth, tongue and throat–catapulted him into a realm of such divine ecstasy that it was almost prurient. No guy should ever feel like this with another guy!

The second reason was that Falco’s hunch proved to be correct: Swallowing his semen filled River not only with cum but with POWER. Pure, pulsing, manly power. The dude’s seed turbo-charged River’s body, imbuing him all of Falco’s energy, endurance, speed and dexterity. Added to River’s own kinesthetic muscle memory, it was more than enough to turn even a midget into a pro athlete.

Falco’s cock flopped out of his mouth as River fell back on his heels. He let out a roar of victory, unable to believe how good he felt while Falco watched him with a happy smile. Their carnal union had had the desired effect: Without losing any of his vitality, Falco had managed to transfer his power to River while getting sucked off by the man he loved most in the world. Even better, unlike when he’d possessed River, he was still just as substantial as ever.

It was a win-win for both of them. Well, yeah, River had to sacrifice his hetero pride and swallow a cock but he still came out on top.

It’s worth it, River thought, wiping a dribble of ghostly semen off his chin. It’s fuckin’ worth it!

“Yer a good lil’ cocksucker, ain’t ya?” Falco teased, reaching out to muss up his hair. “I coulda sworn you’ve had practice. Tell me, bro! Have ya sucked cock before?”

River smacked his hand away, glowering back at him. “Fuck you.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And thanks. I think I can do this now. I think I’m ready.” He got up from the floor of the bathroom and, squaring his narrow shoulders, turned and stalked out of the restroom, his hard globes swaying resolutely behind him. It was time to get suited up and show those fuckin’ scouts what he was made of: Ghost semen and chutzpah.

***

Chapter 9

The NFL scout, Toby Harrison, glanced at his iPhone before turning to Coach Lambert. “Where is he?” he demanded. “He knows it’s today, right?”

Lambert nodded. “Yeah, he does. River’s been waitin’ for this day for years. He’ll be here.”

Toby surveyed the other football players who’d been invited to try out, noting how none of them measured up to River Jansen. Even though he wasn’t even a pro yet, Jansen was a legend. The dude had led his team to win after win; he was unstoppable! The scouts had been watching him for years, salivating at the chance to sign him. And Jansen had refused until now. When asked why, River said he wanted to earn his diploma. The scout chuckled to himself at the thought. A fuckin’ diploma? What for? With River’s talent, he would never worry about money again. Even if he injured himself during the first season, the signing bonus alone was enough to live on comfortably for the rest of his life.

“Where is he?” Toby repeated, growing restless. He’d really stuck his neck out to be the one who got Jansen first and he was growing nervous. If some other scout had–

“Hey, guys!” a chirpy little voice called out, interrupting Toby’s thoughts. “I’m ready!”

Toby looked down, thinking a prepubescent kid had sneaked onto the field. When he saw who it was, though, his jaw dropped. “What the fuck!?” he spouted, taking a step back in surprise from the midget standing before him. The little dude couldn’t be more than five feet tall and looked ridiculous swimming in a man-sized football uniform. The tiny tyke had even had to cuff his football tights…tights that were only supposed to knee-length to begin with. Toby chuckled to himself. This boy-man looked like a child pretending to be a football player.

His chuckle into full-on laughter when he caught sight of the peewee’s humongous ass cheeks. Those obscenely swollen orbs were spilling out of the back of his tights. He clutched his belly and roared with laughter. He couldn’t help it! What the fuck had the kid done to himself? Being pint-sized was bad enough but adding a super-sized butt made him even more ridiculous. Seriously, what the fuck?!

The midget’s face closed and he set his jaw. “Stop laughing at me!” he shrilled, sounding for all the world like he’d sucked in a bunch of helium. “It’s not funny!”

“R-R-River?” the coach sputtered, half out of breath from laughing. “Dat you, boy?”

“I’m not a boy!” River whined. “And, yes, it is me.”

“What happened to ya?” the coach laughed, putting his hands on his knees and bending down so he was at River’s level. “How’d ya shrink like dat? And what’s up with yer ass? Those implants er sumthin’?” Craning his head to check out the little guy’s ass, he erupted once again with laughter.

River stood there, stonily enduring the derision of his coach and the NFL scout. And it wasn’t just them. The other scouts and his teammates on the field had taken notice of his entrance and were doing double takes. More than a few were laughing loudly and pointing at him. His face turned red and he could feel the heat creeping up his back. Resisting the urge to stand up on his tiptoes, he glowered up at Coach Lambert and the scout, furious.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” he grunted, struggling to lower his voice. “I juss wanna try out. Let’s get this over with.”

“Haha! You can’t be serious!” the scout exclaimed, weak from laughter. “You sure? You don’t look like you can even run no more, much less catch a pass! Hahahahaha! You might wanna try out for the circus instead. There ain’t a team in the NFL that will take ya now.”

River’s frown deepened and he gritted his teeth. It took everything he had not to wither as the gales of laughter assailed him. He already knew he looked like a freakshow attraction but having it confirmed like this by men he respected nearly broke him. Only Falco’s steady and supportive presence beside him kept him from stomping off the field with his ‘ass basketballs’ bouncing along ignominiously behind him.

“You got dis, bro,” the ghost soothed. “Don’t listen to ‘em.”

River blinked back tears and set his jaw. He wouldn’t cry! He refused to give them the satisfaction! Strangely, the load of Falco’s semen in his stomach helped steady him. He could feel the ghost’s strength and power filling him up, making him feel like a real man. No, more than a man. He was a mighty jock again, just as big and built and capable as ever!

“Give me a chance,” he pleaded, looking up at the scout. “Pah-leeze! I’ll show ya I still got my moves.”

The scout wiped tears out of his eyes–unlike River’s, though, they were tears of laughter–and tried to sober up. It took some doing but he finally shrugged, “Why not? I didn’t come all this way for nuthin’.” He paused before adding, “‘Sides, I could use another laugh. It’ll be fun watchin’ ya chug around on the field, haulin’ that big ol’ caboose behind ya!”

***

River gave it his best and easily exceeded everyone’s admittedly low expectations but he still failed pitifully. It wasn’t his fault, of course. Even turbo-charged on potent ghost semen, he was still a midget with an unnaturally big and heavy bottom. There just was no way to overcome the limitations of his stubby legs and the bags of concrete whumping up and down behind him as he labored across the field. He couldn’t jump to catch any passess and he was quickly mobbed by his towering teammates whenever he did manage to catch the ball. And, of course, he was sacked. Over and over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He finally gave up, hanging his head and waddling off the field. His body was sore and he was exhausted but that was nothing compared to the sorry state of his bruised and battered ego. River had always been an uber jock, the guy who excelled over everyone else. Athletic and fast and smart, he was legendary for being fleet on his feet and incredibly agile. As the quarterback, he elevated football to an art form, turning the scrimmage into a dance. It was beautiful to behold. Even people who weren’t sports fans came to watch him, lured by his prowess and studly grace.

Now that was all gone.

He was finished.

There was no way he could ever play football again looking like this!

He sniffled, wiping his hand across his face. Defeat wasn’t something he was accustomed to. He’d always been a winner and, too late, he discovered what his opponents knew all too well: Losing sucks. He sniffled again, tears trickling down his fuzzy cheeks. Fuck, what was he going to do now? Football was his life! Tears kept flowing, despite his best efforts to stop them and soon he was crying openly. Falco had never left his side through the whole, horrible affair but River was scarcely aware of the ghost’s presence. He was too lost in a sea of self-pity and wounded pride. 

When Falco put a consoling hand on his shoulder, River violently shook it off. “Fuck you!” he spat, glaring up at the towering, naked brute. Seeing the ghost’s magnificent size and musculature reminded him of everything he’d lost and suddenly he saw all too clearly exactly who to blame for his predicament: If it hadn’t been for Falco, none of this would have happened! If it wasn’t for Falco, he’d still be a big man and a top notch athlete, sailing on sunlit seas toward his destiny: Being a pro quarterback.

Yeah, it was all Falco’s fault. 

The ghost had ruined his life! Not to mention his heterosexuality by convincing him to suck his big, ugly cock. Taking a step back, he could feel Falco’s nasty semen curdling in his stomach as he screamed, “I HATE YOU AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! GO AWAY! GO AWAY FOREVER!”

Guys on the sidelines stopped laughing at him long enough to look around in confusion. Who was he yelling at? They shook their heads, thinking River Jansen was not only a midget, he was a crazy midget to boot!

Falco’s expression grew pained. He swallowed, drawing back and regarding him sadly. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. Finally, mountainous shoulders falling, he turned and lumbered away. His massive form grew less and less substantial until he completely dissolved into a silver mist.

There was a note of wrenching finality to the ghost’s disappearance and River knew that Falco was gone for good. He’d obeyed River’s command and removed himself from his life forever.

River watched the space where Falco had been, stomach clenching. Now that Falco was gone, he realized he was all alone. There wasn’t anyone to talk to, no one to share in his misery. At least Falco had been sympathetic. Who did he have now? He couldn’t call up one of his many girlfriends! They would laugh at him just like the coach and the NFL scout. And he certainly couldn’t reach out to Micky or Kit. They hated him. No, he was all alone now. 

A tiny tyke with a huge, hard bottom and a micro penis.

That was all he was now.

Oh, what the fuck was he going to do now?

It got worse when he realized that Falco had been more than a friend; he was also the key to undoing River’s curse. Without the ghost’s assistance, what chance did he have of recovering his former stature and prowess? Very little.

He kicked himself, regretting his temper. Fuck! He’d just screwed himself over royally. What the fuck had he done?

He thought about calling out to Falco, pleading to be forgiven, but his pride got in the way. No, fuck Falco! He didn’t need him! The ghost only made things worse, not better. Yeah, he’d figure something out on his own. Something that didn’t involve humiliating himself further. He spat, trying to get the bitter flavor of Falco’s cum out of his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed Falco, let alone sucked on his big, ugly cock! Fuck! How could his life get any worse?

He trudged into the locker room, hating himself and his life. He couldn’t even bear to look at himself now. How the fuck would he live like this? What the fuck was going to happen to him now? He might as well be dead. He might as well be a ghost just like–

Everything went dark as someone behind him slipped a bag over his head. He panicked, struggling violently but he was no match for his assailants. A needle pricked into the side of his neck as a familiar voice crowed, “Gotcha, you lil’ fucker! Let’s see ya get away now! Soon, yer gonna be juss like the me an’ Micky.” It was Kit. Kit and someone else because the diminutive guy couldn’t have taken River down so easily. As if in answer to this thought, he heard Micky giggling, “Pussyboy! Yer gonna be pussified, too! Haha!”

Their little hands grappled him down onto the floor. River cried out but one of the midgets stuffed a rag in his mouth, silencing him. His vision clouded and he lost consciousness, drifting into a pink haze of oblivion.

***

When he came to, he was lying on the floor in a white room. Sunlight flooded in from a pair of tall windows. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows and looking around. He was still wearing his football uniform with the tights cuffed around his ankles and his narrow torso swimming in the jersey. 

The place was a loft apartment on the top floor of an old warehouse, the iron beams and cement painted all white. One end of the large room was a very modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances and fancy lights dangling from long, thin wires. He was lying in the middle of the open living room and there was a bed off to the side as well as a barber’s chair surrounded by numerous styling implements and what looked like a tattoo artist’s paraphernalia.

“Get up, Rio.”

He turned and saw a large, naked man reclining in a leather chair nearby. The man’s body was shocking to behold and River gave a start of surprise. He’d never seen anything like this guy before and the sight triggered a war between fascination and revulsion in his mind.

The big man’s body was replete with muscles, the size and heft of which were beyond anything possible without super-concentrated doses of steroids. He was also completely hairless. Even his groin was smooth, all the better to display his shockingly massive tubesteak of a cock and hulking testicles. That cock was so big it hung down over the seat of the chair, swinging languidly in the breeze. And talk about thick! It had to be more than two inches in diameter, a true beer can-sized cock. Underscoring the monstrosity of his shaft, the man’s bull balls were the size of a pair of flesh-colored grapefruits. Unlike that cock, though, they were pulled up tight in their bald sac, a pair of boulders forcing the man’s muscular legs apart.

Adding to man’s stunning appearance, black tribal tattoos covered the entire left half of his body. Dark and stark, they ran down the midline of his face and scalp, neck, chest, and leg. Even his cock and left testicle were tattooed black. In contrast, the right half of his body was creamy, smooth, unblemished mocha-colored skin…except for his face and head. In a particularly disorienting display of freakishness, the man had shaved the left half of his face and scalp while leaving the other half of his scalp and face covered in dense, brown hair; he had a half-beard and a half-mullet.

The effect was startling but, River realized to his utter confusion, it was also strangely titillating. He’d never seen anyone like this guy. Who covered half their body with tattoos and had a half-beard and half-mullet? It was bizarre.

“Get up,” the man repeated. “And take off your clothes.”

River detected a hint of a Spanish or Portuguese accent in that voice. It was a deep, pleasant voice, the tone one of self-assured dominance. The man knew he didn’t need to shout or threaten; he knew that River would obey him.

And, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, River obeyed. He pushed himself off the floor and stood facing the man, slowly pulling off his football uniform. Only when he was down to his jockstrap–a formality, really, because he no longer needed the protection of a cup–did he hesitate.

“Go on,” the man urged, leaning forward in his chair with interest. His gaze was bright as he took in River’s diminutive body with its ridiculously swollen ass cheeks and the mini bulge in the pouch of his jock. The man’s half-tattooed cock began to plump up.

River stared at that big, uncircumcised penis, captivated. It was everything he lacked, everything he used to be and more. That huge, half-tattooed cock reminded him of what he was now: A half-man. With a jolt, he realized his tiny body and giant ass were a bizarre inversion of the man’s hyper-masculine body. He was a freakified half-man/half-boy.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” The man reached down and idly jacked his long, thick cock. It was veiny and covered by the longest, thickest foreskin that River had ever seen. It was also so fat the man’s huge hand only reached halfway around it. “My name’s Juan, by the way. I’m the one who made you into what you are now. Coach Jordan and Dr. Peterson work for me. As does the Dean of Athletics.”

River remained silent, processing this information.

“Half of the wrestling team belongs to me as well,” Juan continued, still jacking. “I use them for my pleasure. And I get off on their humiliation.” He laughed to himself. “I love showing them who they used to be.” 

To demonstrate what he meant, he lifted his hand and aimed a remote control at a television across the room. The screen lit up and River blinked in surprise as a montage of highlights from his storied football career flashed across the screen. There were pictures of him leaping up to catch a pass, running for a touchdown, and riding high on the shoulders of his teammates, gripping a golden trophy, celebrating victory after victory. In the pictures and videos, he was achingly perfect, a truly perfect man. He was big. He was tall. He was strong. He was fast. He was handsome. And he was hung…

Really hung. 

The game footage was quickly followed by secretly-recorded videos of him naked in the showers and fucking his girlfriends. Outrage and humiliation vied inside him as he saw his formerly magnificent, long, thick cock and his hefty pair of low-hangers. Sure, he wasn’t anywhere near as gifted as Juan but who was? In his heyday, he’d been a true legend in the penis department. A hung stud!

He’d been a god!

He’d been a fucking god!

River looked down at himself and flinched. In comparison, he was now completely laughable, a caricature of his former glory.

He hated himself.

Yes, hated himself!

Totally hated himself!

Hated–

Huh?

What?

He flushed when he realized he was getting turned on.

The sensation of his erection was undeniable, even now that his little man was a quarter of its former size. He could feel it chub up inside the voluminous and empty pouch of his jockstrap. He found himself reaching down with shaking hands, pulling down the elastic waistband and letting his cocklet spring free. It was barely two and half inches long.

Pathetic.

A boy-dick.

A fuckin’ boy-dick!

His gaze kept flipping up to watch Juan jacking his manly piece and then down again to examine his thin twig. Up and down, up and down, back and forth. He couldn’t stop comparing himself, taking in how much bigger and manlier Juan was in comparison to him.

He both hated the contrast and was fucking turned on by it. It was maddening! He almost couldn’t stand it. It took everything he had not to reach down and jack his boy-dick. He ached to feel its insignificant size, its laughable thinness…

“Yes, you’re just like all of the others,” Juan observed, taking in River’s aroused humiliation. “Even worse than the others, actually, because you’ve fallen so much further. I’ve taken almost everything away from you and you can’t get enough of it. In fact, I can tell that you want me to take even more! You want me to take everything and leave you with nothing. Leave you completely altered, completely worthless.” He laughed. “It’s something I’ve known for a long time: Every jock dreams of becoming his worst nightmare. As much as you hate yourself now, you crave more. You like being a little freak and you want to be even freakier. That’s where I come in.” He gestured to the barber’s chair. “Are you ready to get started?”

He stood up, his massive appendage sagging between his smooth, hulking thighs. It was so big, River realized, it couldn’t stand up like a normal man’s erection. It didn’t matter. The sight of the magnificently thick appendage sagging under its immense weight was enough to make River’s jaw fall open.

Juan led River to the barber’s chair. River sat down, feeling the leather against his big, bare butt and rolling around on the cushion. (It was so hard balancing on a chair when your butt was the size of twin basketballs!)  He stared at himself in the mirror, a tiny, terrified dwarf with dense, brown fur from the top of his head down to his feet. He was really hairy!

“Let’s see who’s lurking under all that hair,” Juan murmured, squirting a gel into his palms and lathering it up. “A special formulation,” he explained as he gently massaged the foam onto River’s face. “It both softens the skin and the hair follicles, making them ready for a razor.” Wiping his hands on a towel, he produced a straight razor attached to an electric cord. “A follicle cauterizer,” he said. “To remove your beard. Permanently.”

River opened his mouth to protest. He loved his beard! It represented more than just pride, it represented his masculinity. It was one of the only things left that showed he was still a man. He stared at the razor–so sharp!–in Juan’s hand. The thought of letting this huge man hold him captive with a blade pressed against his throat made his heart pound in fear…

…and arousal.

He looked down and saw his tiny prick straining upward. He was so turned on that it hurt! His tiny balls ached for release. His tiny cock ached for release. More than that, his whole being ached to be released: The beard had to go!

He leaned back and lifted his chin, exposing his throat.

Chapter 10

Juan chuckled as he pressed the cold metal blade against his tender skin. There was a hum and a crackle of electricity as the blade warmed. The air smelled vaguely of burning fur as Juan slid the razor over his cheekbone. River moaned in pleasure. The touch of that blade was erotic electricity against his skin. The razor kissed him like a lover, a lover intent on taking everything from him.

When it was done, he looked at himself and gaped.

He was completely smooth-cheeked, bare of all facial hair for the first time since he was thirteen.

He almost didn’t recognize the…boy…staring back at him with wide, soft eyes.

Was that him?

“A good start but there’s more to go, Rio,” Juan stated, smiling. He towered behind River in the mirror, a godlike beast of a man. His enormous cock was half hard and getting harder.

“My name’s not Rio!” River insisted but he sounded hesitant. Blinking back at his reflection, he realized he had a difficult time sounding authoritative when he looked like a smooth-cheeked, innocent boy. Wasn’t he supposed to give in? Wasn’t that what boys did? Boys were supposed to let men take charge. Yeah, that’s what Juan was for: To take charge! He needed a big man to tell him what to do. 

Right?

He shook his head, trying to clear it of these strange and seductive thoughts.

He should be fighting back! He never should’ve let Juan permanently remove his beard! Fuck, what was wrong with him? Without Falco’s support, he was finding it difficult to stand up to Juan. If only Falco had been here to protect him! He sucked on his lower lip, making him look even younger and more innocent. Tears filled his big, blue eyes.

Juan observed him with amusement. River knew he could read his thoughts. Juan had been through this with countless other former jocks, savoring every moment as they slowly gave in and gave up, surrendering their manly pride as he inexorably robbed them of their manly bodies. Resistant at first, they always gave in, slowly at first but all too soon they begged him to take more and more. 

He felt that way now. 

He wrinkled his lip as he looked down at his tiny pee-pee, buried in the unsightly nest of his pubic hair. Even fully erect, only his little, circumcised cockhead poked out. He looked back up at himself in the mirror, noticing his fresh, smooth, soft cheeks and soft eyes. He looked down again and frowned, realizing with a start that his body hair had to go, too. It no longer belonger on his body, not now that he was so small and tender and innocent. He needed Juan to get rid of it forever! Boys weren’t hairy.

He remembered Kit’s soft, smooth, voluptuous body. Yesterday, it had seemed so laughable, especially compared to the jock that Kit had once been. Yesterday, he’d been horrified when Kit tried to force him to swallow the feminizing pill. Yesterday, he’d fought back. Today, though…

“Take it all off…please?”

River didn’t realize he’d said the words until after they were out of his mouth. His eyes went round and gazed back fearfully at himself. What the fuck was he saying? He was a man! He needed his body hair, especially now that his face was so smooth.

It was too late, though. He’d said the words.

Chuckling to himself, Juan urged him to stand and commenced shaving every follicle of hair off of his body from his neck down. River braced, clenching his big buttocks and worrying about what he was getting himself into. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. It was like Juan had awakened a part of him that had been sleeping. Now that it was awake, his old identity as a studly jock had faded away. He was in the thrall of Juan, a man who radiated such potent masculinity that it left River feeling weak and helpless. (Lost in a feverish haze, he never thought to wonder if the drugs Kit had injected into his neck were the cause of this unnaturally obedient state.)

Juan had a lot of experience shaving men’s bodies and worked quickly and efficiently, scraping away wide swaths of fur and leaving only tender, pale, soft skin behind. He swept the hair off River’s chest first, leaving his tiny, tight nipples erect and hard as pebbles. Then all the hair came off his belly, arms and back. River stared down at his taut physique, bare of hair from the belly button up. Being smooth really made his little muscles pop!

Only when the razor blade was poised over his pubes did River try to protest but Juan was too quick. With a flick of the wrist, half of River’s pubes fell to the floor. River stared at the bare, smooth skin. He’d had thick pubic hair for so long that the sight of his denuded pubes was shocking. When the other half of his dirt-brown short hairs drifted down to his feet, he realized unhappily that being shorn of pubes actually made his pee-pee more laughable. It stuck out, pencil-thin, perched over his shrunken nuts…which were soon just as hairless as the rest of his groin.

His thighs and legs were next and then his ass. Juan had him lie over a bolster on the floor and arch his back and spread his cheeks. River’s freshly-shaved face flamed crimson as he exposed his butthole to a man, whining when Juan expertly and swiftly cleaned every last curly, brown hair off his mountainous globes. The big man treated his butthole with affection, smoothing lotion over it and gently scraping away every trace of hole hair. River shivered with forbidden pleasure, clenching his shorn hole when it was over, feeling the cool air caress him down there. It felt so naughty!

“Stand up. You’re almost done…in more ways than one.”

Looking around, he saw the floor was covered in clumps of brown hair. He got up and looked at himself in the mirror, trying to recognize the smooth, sweet, hesitant boy blinking back at him. The only hair on his body was on his head and, now that his body was completely hairless, that hair looked extra long and luxurious. A lock drifted down over his left eye and he smiled shyly, realizing he looked ten years younger.

Only his still significant muscles belied the fact that he wasn’t a prepubescent boy. Those and his boulder-sized ass cheeks. He squared his shoulders and spread his feet, trying to recapture a little of his lost bravado. The effect was mixed; he looked more like a kid trying to act like a man.

Juan paced around behind him, surveying his handiwork with pride. His big cock was fully engorged by now. River realized as he gazed at it–it was at eye-level, after all–that it still pointed downward at the floor even though it was hard as a rock. He swallowed, inadvertently licking his lips. Even bloated and sagging under its massive weight, that giant cock was still mesmerizing.

“Come here.”

Juan squatted down and lifted him off the floor. Mind blanking in confusion–he hadn’t expected to be picked up like a little kid!–River found himself pressed into the big man’s chest. Instinctively, he tried to wrap his little legs around Juan’s tight waist but they were two small. Juan’s big, confident hands held his buttocks, though. He massaged those newly shorn globes, working his big fingers deeper and deeper into his cleft until…

“Oooh! Wowie!”

Juan smiled. “You like that? You like it when I touch your straight-boy hole?” He chuckled. “I’ll bet you want me to do more than touch it. I’ll bet you want my cock inside it, too. You want that, dontcha little guy?”

River blushed furiously as Juan traced the rim of his asshole with a thick finger. It felt so good! He really would give anything to have Juan’s big cock inside him! When Juan eased backward, settling down in his leather chair with River on his lap, though, he quailed as his bare ass pressed against the hulking base of that monster.

“You’ll need diapers by the time I’m done with you,” Juan teased. “Which, I guess is appropriate ‘cuz yer nuthin’ but a little baby boy no more.”

River hung his head, both hating and desiring Juan.

“There’s only one, ahem, little problem.”

River looked up at Juan in confusion, chirping, “What?”

“I don’t fuck guys,” Juan stated.

“Huh?”

In answer, Juan glanced down at River’s tiny cocklet, still straining and hard between his smooth thighs. “That,” he said, indicating the pathetic twig, “has to go.”

Even though River had a sinking feeling he knew what Juan meant, he still asked, “Whaddaya mean?”

A pill appeared in Juan’s hand. A tiny, white pill. He held it up to River’s face, explaining, “This is the pill you were supposed to take yesterday. Well, not the exact pill. This one’s even more potent.” He laughed, a harsh sound that sent a thrill up River’s spine. “The pill Kit offered you would have neutered you but left you mostly male. This one will turn you into a girl. It will soften all of those hard muscles, turning them into fat. It will enlarge your breasts and nipples. And it will free you from those awkward rocklike glutes, making them big, soft, voluptuous booty cheeks. Finally, and best of all,” he pulsed his giant organ under River’s bottom as he said this, ”it will turn yer little cock into a–”

“RIVER!!! DON’T!!!”

One second he was alone with the gloating Juan and the next instant Falco had flashed into existence beside him, frantically yelling in his ear. River jumped in surprise and tried to push the ghost away. Hadn’t he told the idiot to stay away? Why was he bothering him now? And at such an important time, too!

“What’s wrong?” Juan asked, confused by River’s reaction and unable to see the ghost.

“Nothing!” River insisted before turning to Falco and hissing, “Get the fuck out of here now!”

“Wait, who’re you talkin’–?” Juan started to ask but Falco interrupted him.

“I just remembered!” he said, shouting over Juan. He was so loud, River couldn’t possibly ignore him. “Juan’s the one who killed me! Juan is my murderer!”

“He’s what?” River’s head was aching. More than anything else, though, his little dick was aching. If he didn’t have Juan’s big man-cock up inside him soon, he was going to die himself. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“He tricked me juss like he’s tricking you!” Falco explained, more and more frantic. Getting down on his knees, he tugged at River, trying to pull him off Juan’s lap. “You gotta get outta here NOW!”

Before Falco could pull him off of Juan’s lap, Juan grabbed his arm, holding him firmly in place. He was a really strong guy! Apparently, all of those steroidal muscles were for more than just show. River found himself pulled in two directions as both Falco and Juan tried to wrest him away from the other. He whined in pain, feeling his little shoulder begin to dislocate. 

“Take the fuckin’ pill, Rio!” Juan hissed, holding him tightly with one hand while he tried to push the pill into his mouth with the other. “Stop struggling!”

“I won’t let him!” Falco yelled, doubling down and hauling back on River’s other arm. 

It was a stalemate. The ghost and Juan were evenly matched and River was being torn apart in the middle. Finally, Juan growled in frustration and, sticking the pill between his teeth, grabbed River with both hands, squeezing him around the neck. River gasped for breath and, when he opened his mouth, Juan was ready for him. The big man leaned forward and, opening his jaw, dropped the pill onto River’s tongue. River gagged, the pill sliding down his throat.

“RIVER, NO!!!” 

Falco panicked, flickering momentarily out of existence. When he reappeared a moment later, though, he’d regained his composure and knew what to do: He took possession of River’s body. The ghost’s strength and power flowed into him and River was suddenly on fire with fury and determination. With a herculean force of will, he wrenched himself out of Juan’s grasp and threw his little hands around the startled man’s neck. His fingers were tiny and slender but this actually worked to his benefit because they made it easier to grab Juan’s windpipe. Juan gagged, eyes bugging out, and grappled with River, trying to dislodge his hands. River’s eyes blazed and he doubled down, crushing, crushing, crushing.

Juan wasn’t to be outdone quite so easily, though, and fought back, managing to grab River’s neck again. River’s vision washed with red as he felt those big hands choking him once again. He gasped, panicking as blackness closed around him. Finally, his head slumped forward and he sagged on Juan’s lap. He fainted.

Juan had won.

***

Chapter 11

He came back to consciousness a few minutes later with a pounding headache and a sore throat. “Uhhhh,” he moaned, “I don’t feel so good.” He rubbed his stomach, feeling it gurgle like he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have. Only belatedly did he realize he was naked and lying on the floor, teetering on his concrete buttocks.

“River?!” Juan shouted, taking his face in his hands. “You’re alive! OMG, I was so worried!”

Cracking an eyelid, River gazed up in trepidation at the hulking man. Now that the dude had tried to killed him, Juan looked more repugnant than attractive. With his swarthy mug half covered in black tattoo ink and scraggly half-beard and half-mullet, he was perhaps the ugliest man River had ever seen. He flinched, struggling weakly to pull his face out of Juan’s calloused hands. He couldn’t, though; his head was firmly lodged between the dude’s mountainous thighs.

Juan squinted down at him, reading the distaste etched across River’s face. His bushy eyebrows lifted before drawing together in consternation. “Oh! You think I’m Juan, dontcha? No! It’s me, bro!” he cried. “I ain’t Juan no more, I’m yer man, Falco!” He caressed River’s smooth cheeks, grinning from ear to ear. “An’ I juss saved yer life!”

River blinked. “Huh? Falco? But…you’re dead!”

Juan shook his head. “Not no more I ain’t! I’m alive and well. I juss got a new body is all.” He paused, lifting his hands–one tattooed and the other not–in wonder as if seeing  them for the first time. “Sumthin’ happened when we was fighting with Juan and I guess I, ya know, sorta took his place. I had to do sumith’ to help ya so I possessed him and…well, I guess I ended up tossin’ him out.”

“You took over his body and now he’s dead? That’s…that’s…Ugh! My head hurts!” River sat up…or tried to. It was hard to do on those big, hard butt cheeks. After some effort he managed to sit up and roll around until he was facing Falco. “So, you’re not Juan anymore? You’re really Falco?” Falco/Juan nodded happily, grin widening. The grin didn’t improve his looks, though. If anything, it made him look even more ghoulish. 

Even if he was Falco now, everything about Juan’s body was disgusting to River now: He was a monster. A total monster. It took everything he had not to shudder in revulsion. “This–this, I mean, this is just too–” he murmured, rubbing his forehead. All the horrible memories were coming back and he felt a cold, clammy sickness take over as he looked down at his completely denuded body, not a trace of hair left anywhere. He looked like a freak! A total fucking freak! What the fuck had Juan done to him?!

And then he remembered the pill. 

Panicking, he rolled over and stuck a finger down his throat, trying to make himself vomit up the hated pill. He couldn’t turn into a girl! NO! He didn’t want to be a girl!

It was no use, though. He could feel the medicine radiating outward from his stomach as it seeped inexorably into his bloodstream. He went hot and then cold, feeling his muscles react as the new hormones course through him. There was a strange, sick loosening sensation as his muscles started to deflate and disintegrate into fatty tissue. He gazed down in horror as his taut abs dissolved into loose rolls of flab. His thighs followed suit, swelling even as they became jellied and jiggly. It didn’t stop there! His pecs disappeared, plumping up with breast tissue, and his nipples distended, growing bigger and perkier.

He wailed in despair.

That was nothing, though, compared to what was happening to his manhood.

He howled as he watched his already tiny penis deflate and his mini-balls shrink up in their sac. His scrotum retracted, pulling in on itself. His piss slit gaped wider and wider, lengthening to several inches in seconds. When soft folds of moist flesh formed around his retreating genitalia and his cockhead retreated inside them, he wanted to throw up.

Underneath, his formerly solid globes of glute muscle were rapidly softening and inflating. His ass expanded and filled out, forming into giant bubbles. His hips widened and became rounder, big enough to birth babies. He sank slowly downward as his weight pushed his newly pillowy mounds outward, giving him a very round, very curvy, and very voluptuous ass.

His breasts continued to grow, heaving outward before hanging down under their new weight. Soon, he sported a pendulous pair of D-cups, a giant rack in front to match his giant girl booty in back.

“Nooooooo!” he squealed in a very high-pitched voice. “I can’t be a guuuuurl! I don’t wanna be a guuuuuurl!” He looked at his hands, watching them become dainty and delicate. He could feel his lips swell into a perpetual pout. His nose shrunk, becoming tiny and refined. And his chin and face grew round and cute. “Make it stop!” he pleaded in a new falsetto. “Pah-leeze, Falco! I don’t wanna be a guuuurl!”

Falco stared at him in shock. He staggered to his feet, lurching hard to the right and the left as he tried to get used to his new, much bulkier body. He gaped down at River, wide-eyed and amazed at the speed of his transformation. When River started to cry, he jerked into action, lumbering around the room and throwing open every cabinet and drawer, desperately searching for something.

“He’d gotta have an antidote here somewhere!” he shouted, looking over his shoulder at thefreshly pussified River. “There’s gotta be sumthin’! I mean, if he has a pill that’ll do…that…to ya, there’s gotta be sumthin’ to reverse it!”

River sobbed louder, holding his soft, round face in his tiny hands and bawling like a baby. “Quick, Falco!” he mewled. “I can feel my ovaries swelling! I think I’m in heat!”

“Hang in there, buddy!” Falco reassured. “I’ll find sumthin! Juss gimme a minute!”

“I don’t got a minute!” River whined, feeling his waist grow narrower and his hips wider. His skeleton was changing with each passing second, growing more and more female. And his organs were following suit. He felt a trickle of something hot and wet and looked down to see a pearl of clear liquid emerge from the folds of his new, pink cunt lips. “FALCO! HELP ME!”

“Here! Take this!” Falco held out a bottle of pills that he’d found in a little cabinet next to the barber chair. “Swallow all of ‘em!”

River twisted the cap off and was about to choke them all down when he thought better of it and examined the label. “‘FTM’?” he read. “What’s that stand for?”

“Female to male, maybe?” Falco offered. “It’s the only thing I can think of.” He gestured to River’s petite, delicate and plump form. “And right now I’d say yer more female than male. Take ‘em! I’m sure they’ll help ya!”

River looked up at his hulking friend and then back to the bottle, hesitating. Finally, he realized he didn’t have a choice and knocked back the entire thing. He didn’t have any water to swallow the pills with but somehow managed to choke them down. They slid down his throat, hard edges hurting his esophagus. When they were all down, he sat there, totally numb. Nothing felt real anymore, he realized. It was like he was living another person’s–another woman’s?–life. He closed his eyes, unable to look at himself in this state.

He didn’t object when Falco gently lifted him and carried him over to the giant bed on the far end of the loft. The towering brute tugged back the covers and laid him down, covering River’s big boobs with a sheet. He stared down at him, eyebrows knitted in concern, Finally, he sat down beside him and stroked one of his little, frail hands. “It’s alright, bro,” he soothed. “You’ll be fine. Dontcha worry ‘bout nuthin’. Yer man Falco’s here now and I ain’t leavin’ yer side again. Even death won’t take me away from ya!”

***

River awoke with Falco spooning him, his massive erection thrust between his thighs. Unlike a few days ago, though, he was not horrified. No, this time he invited the big man to spoon him even harder. He moaned, wiggling his bare butt against Falco’s smooth pubes. Falco moaned in return, thrusting his incredibly girthy fuckstick deeper between River’s thighs. He reached around River and hugged him tightly, lowering his head to nibble his ear.

“Yer awake, bro.”

River smiled. “Yeah. And so are you from the feel of it. Are you always turned on?”

“Only when I’m with my big, hot man, bro.” Falco nibbled his ear again before tracing his tongue around the circumference of the lobe. “And you are a big, hot man again. Those fuckin’ pills worked!”

“Incredible.” River was enjoying being spooned so much that this news barely registered. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have a cock between his thighs. And not just any cock: Falco’s cock. Well, technically it was Juan’s but seeing as Falco was the new owner of Juan’s body…well, that huge cock now belonged to Falco. The sensation of Falco’s flesh against his own was just as rapturous as it had been when Falco had been a ghost. River had never felt anything so intimate in his life and it left him breathless and turned on as fuck.

He looked at his hands, marveling at their renewed size and thickness. His fingers were just as long and fat as before his ignominious transformation. Oh, sure, his arms were hairless due to Juan’s electric cauterizing razor. He’d warned River before he shaved him that the blade would permanently remove his hair. Clearly, the pills couldn’t restore follicles that had been burned away. He could tell by the delicious sensation of the satin sheets against his bare skin that he was hairless everywhere. It should have bothered him more than it did. Somehow, though, he didn’t care. No, losing his facial and body hair was a small price to pay. He could live with it. The most important thing was that he was male once again. And his body was back to exactly the way it had been before all this. 

He could still go pro!

His dream of being a quarterback in the NFL was back on!

He laughed, rubbing his hands through his long, thick hair and glorying in being 100% stud again. God, it felt so good! Being a woman had been hell.

He stared at his arms, grinning when he saw they were laden with newly restored muscles. He peeled back the sheets to stare at his blocky, smooth pecs. No more floppy boobs! They were chiseled and hard, just like the rest of his muscles. He wiggled his bottom, realizing that it felt a little bigger and softer than before. But at least his ass cheeks weren’t giant basketballs now. He could live with a somewhat plumper ass as long as it didn’t get in the way of his moves on the field.

Yeah, a big butt was nice.

Mostly because Falco liked it so much.

His big friend was grinding his crotch into River’s soft booty cheeks, moaning in ecstasy. His giant appendage slid back and forth, back and forth, within the soft, smooth, hairless space between River’s thighs. River clenched those muscular thighs together, making Falco moan even louder.

“Fuck, bro!” he gasped. “Yer thighs are tighter than a Catholic schoolgirl’s!”

River laughed, redoubling his effort to squeeze Falco’s thick cock. The friction of that cock on his skin was so delicious! For the first time without being drugged, River wondered what it would be like to have Falco inside him. He grew warm and moist at the thought, the mound between his legs swelling and tightening. He could feel his pussy lips trickling dewdrops of honey.

Wait.

What?

His mound?

Pussy lips?

Huh?

He threw back the covers in alarm, staring in utter dismay at his crotch.

No.

NO!

NOOOOOOO!!!!!

Tender, pink, moist, fleshy lips. A tiny clit peeking out.

That was what greeted him down there.

That was between his big, muscular, super jock legs.

A cunt.

A dripping cunt!

***

Falco cradled him as he sobbed, smoothing his hair away from his face and kissing away his tears. “We could look for another pill,” he rumbled, hands cupping River’s big, soft booty cheeks. “I’m sure I could find something–”

“No,” River sighed, sniffling. “No more pills! Who the fuck knows what the next one might do to me? I’m tired of pills!”

“Are ya sayin’ yer Ok with a cunt, bro?” Falco lowered his lips and met River’s.

River responded, kissing him back. He nodded. “I guess I’ll have to be.” He lifted his chin and met Falco’s eyes, realizing as he did so that he was starting to love his boyfriend’s half-tattooed/half-shaven face. Sure, Falco looked like a freak but he was River’s freak. He marveled that it had taken him so long to realize that he loved this man, loved him more than any woman he’d ever known. He belonged to Falco now and would never leave him. He swallowed as he held Falco’s gaze; he could feel his heart pounding. “The more important question is, are you Ok with it? I mean, yer the one who’s gonna be fucking it.”

Falco blinked. “Does that mean–?”

River kissed him, giving him a little tongue this time. “Yep.”

Whooping with delight, Falco flipped him onto his back and whipped back the covers. Lust filled his eyes as he gazed down at River’s freshly-minted cunt. It was so tender and moist and perfect, swollen and pink with desire. He lowered a hand and traced a finger around the contours of those perfect lips. River moaned in pleasure, feeling juices trickle down his thighs.

“I’ll be gentle, bro,” Falco promised. “I won’t hurt ya. I’ll make you forget all ‘bout ever having a cock. By the time I’m done with ya, you’ll be proud of yer new cunt! And you’ll be beggin’ me to fuck it again and again and again!”

He didn’t lie.

That’s exactly what he did. By the time the evening was over, River couldn’t imagine having a penis again. A cock, he realized, was definitely the inferior sex organ.

***

His cunt was sore and sloppy with Falco’s cum but he was the happiest he could ever remember. He snuggled up to Falco, remembering the sensation of his big man’s cock stretching out both of his holes. Falco was the best lover a guy could have, so generous, so loving, so kind, so loyal. He teared up thinking about all of the ways Falco had saved him over the past several days. 

“So,” he began. Half asleep, Falco’s eyelids fluttered open and he smiled, his arm tightening around River’s shoulders. River was nestled in the crook of his arm, feeling warm and safe and protected. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did Juan murder you?”

Falco sighed. It was strange thinking that he now occupied the body of the man who had killed him. “The same as you. He shaved off all my body hair juss like he did to you, only I resisted after that. I didn’t want to be female. I was too big for him to fight off so he injected me with sumthin’. I blacked out. And the next thing I knew, I was sittin’ beside my dead body at the lake. It was super creepy.”

River thought about this, musing, “I’ll bet it was an accident. I wonder if you were allergic to the drug he gave you? Juan was an asshole but I don’t think he wanted to kill you. I don’t think he wanted to kill me, either…just make me swallow the pill.”

Falco made a face. “The world’s better off without him.” Then he laughed, looking at his tattooed arm and chest. “I like bein’ in his body, though. It’s badass! I never had muscles as big as these and this cock…” He smiled, peeling back the sheet to reveal his straining erection. “It wants another go at yer cunt, bro. Whaddaya say?”

River answered by pushing him back on the bed and straddling him. Parting his cunt lips, he slowly lowered himself down onto that enormous, hard cock. He threw back his head and cried out in pleasure and pain as Falco thrust deep inside him.

***

Epilogue

Just as Falco was fucking River for the tenth time, the mortician at the local funeral home was preparing to aspirate the organs in Falco’s old, dead body. The young stud’s bulky and naked corpse was laid out before her on the stainless embalming table. Such a pity, really, she thought. A magnificent man, a potent flower plucked at the peak of youth. The mortician shook her head, ready to insert the sharp implement into his abdomen. Just as she had pricked the razor-sharp blade against his cold, dead skin, though, the corpse twitched.

And then started to moan.

She panicked, fleeing the room as the corpse started clawing at its eye sockets, trying to remove the gauze and sutures that kept them closed.

***