A week ago, a twenty-something professional skateboarder died after falling off his board in an alley. He was trying to land some crazy trick, and I guess it didn’t work. So, Kevin thought he’d cover the story as the Investigative reporter for the Minneapolis Star Tribune. He looked up and down the alley, past the yellow police tape, searching for clues. Underneath the gigantic dumpster, he saw something lodged behind it. Pulling the dumpster away, he found a pair of ratty skateboarding shoes.
These must have been his! He snatched the sneaks and stuffed them in his bag. He continued the search for hours but found nothing. He sat down against the wall, and found himself flying onto the ground. He had sat on a skateboard. Wait… didn’t the police take the board away? All of the sudden, he smelled a faint smell, coming from his bag. Turning, he saw a bright greenish mist coming from the backpack. Opening it, the shoes were shrouded in this dense, thick fog… Fuck! These are rank! He threw them on the ground next to the skateboard, and stared at them. They somehow beckoned to him. Called to him.
He stared and was mesmerised by the trashed kicks. Those look comfy, he thought. Looking at them closer, they were gigantic! Size 13. But something told him to put them on… He slowly took off his boring loafers he wore for the office and slid on the ratty shoes. The nasty sweaty smell became too much to bear, as he wriggled his toes inside the dank shoes. He quickly passed out, right on the board. The green mist slowly gathered together into a tall, muscular ghost. He laughed at the middle aged pot bellied guy, he knew that he wanted a change…
The ghost wrapped himself around the man, and began to push himself into the man’s open mouth. Little by little the rubbery spirit inched it’s way down his throat, into the core of his body. Slippery slick squeaking noises echoed in the alley, as the ghost filled the man’s body completely. The tail now inside, the ghost began to take control. Underneath his skin, the ghost slid his rubbery form into his various limbs, down into every last toe, finger and appendage. His neck ballooned as the ghosts head worked it’s way up into the man’s, eventually filling it with a loud *schloop* The man opened his eyes, now glowing a lime green and laughed.
His body began to rumble and shake. The ghostly form squirmed and inched it’s way into the muscles of the man, inflating them just right into a nice, athletic build. Then, his short, stubby legs arms cracked and bubbled as they lengthened to a nice height and length. His feet began to absorb the musk, and grew from size 8 to 10 all the way to 13 filling the shoes perfectly. The man’s pot belly shrank and gurgled away, revealing a lean frame, covered in tattoos. The weight slurped down into his pants, where it found its way into his endowment and jewels, making him a bull in all the right places. Finally the ghost worked the man’s face with his hands, moulding it like clay into his own likeness. His boring office clothes warped and turned into a heavily used and abused tank and khaki pants, with a smelly old beanie capping his head. The skater laughed and grinned. Pulling out his old phone, he texted his old buds, seeing if they could come shoot some new tricks. Musky Jack was back, almost as if he never left.
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