RICHIE LOSES

[Coming tomorrow: RICHIE WINS!]

RICHIE LOSES

Richie was waiting in the kitchen as the little Italian guy tiptoed down the stairs. Richie couldn’t believe the audacity: he came to Richie’s house, fucked his wife Janie, then confidently left through the front door.

“Hold up, bro,” Richie said confidently. The little guy froze, his eyes wide. Richie gestured to the seat next to him. “Let’s have a chat,” he said.

“Look,” the guy said, holding up his hands. His shirt was buttoned unevenly. Richie could see through the open shirt collar a chiseled, hairless chest. He’d seen the guy naked on the security cameras. Little dude couldn’t weigh more than 180 pounds but every bit of it was shredded muscle. Richie had to admit, watching that muscular ass pump away as he emptied load after load into his wife had been almost impressive.

“What’s your name?” Richie said. He stood up and walked to the fridge. He pulled out two bottles of Budweiser and extended one.

“Chet,” he responded, gingerly taking a beer. He stared at it, focusing on the sealed cap, before apparently establishing it safe to drink and popping the top.

“Cool,” Richie said. “You know I’ve got video of you fucking my wife?”

Chet shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Damn, those shoulder muscles! Every bit of this little shit was rippling. He was probably one of those keto fags. Probably did like 300 crunches a day or something.

“Okay, you caught me,” Chet said. He shrugged, then faked a smile. Chet was a real stallion: chiseled face, dimples, dark features and icy blue eyes.

“Damn, you’re so damned pretty I think I might want to fuck you!” Richie joked. He slapped Chet on the shoulder, so hard the guy almost fell out of his seat. “Just kidding. I’m not a fag. But you’re making me look like one, fucking my wife like this.”

“She approached me,” Chet said. “At first I didn’t even know…”

Richie glanced around. There were pictures of him playing football everywhere. He had his Dolphins jersey, his Bills jersey and his Raiders jersey framed just above the staircase.

“Bullshit,” Richie said. “Trust me, buddy. You’re making this easy. Janie isn’t getting shit from the divorce. I hope you got money, bro, because that bitch runs on cash. Once she has a bill she needs to pay she’ll be running off to somebody who can help her out.”

“We’re in love,” Chet said boldly. Richie just sneered.

He smashed his beer bottle on the floor behind him so hard Chet jumped out of his seat.

“In love? You think that bitch is capable of LOVE?” Richie said as he leapt to his feet, all 325 pounds of him flexing and pulsing with sudden rage. Then he clenched his fists, smoothed his shirt down and took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just shocked she was into someone like…” Richie gestured at Chet and rolled his eyes. “I’m an NFL lineman. If you’re under 200 pounds, you’re a fucking chick. You should sit down to pee and get fucked in the ass.” Richie’s big torso flexed and he smiled, flashing big dimples in his broad face.

“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Chet taunted. “You’re twice the size of me. You’ve already got a bad reputation. Imagine how the press is going to latch onto you smashing a guy who’s not even as big as your dinners, from the look of it.”

“Eventually I’ll get to kicking the shit out of you,” Richie said. “But I want to make sure Janie sees it. I want her to see what a little tulip you are. Maybe we should go upstairs and wake her from her Zanax coma and have her watch as I reach down your throat and grab you by the dick.”

Chet’s eyes narrowed to a sneer. “There’s something you don’t know about.” He folded his arms and a smirk spread across his face.

Richie reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy gold amulet he found under his mattress. “You talking about that?” It spun on the thick chain as he held it up. “The fuck is this thing anyway?” Carved into it were two intertwined snakes facing each other. One had a diamond for an eye, the other a ruby.

Chet, suddenly panicked, reached for the amulet and Richie jerked it away, shoving Chet back with the other hand. “You don’t even know what that is!” Chet shouted.

“So what’s this on the back?” Richie said. “You had some words taped on here. What happens if I read them? Some hoo-doo magic? You trying to put a curse on me, little shit?”

Chet went white. “Please! Don’t! You don’t know what you’re messing with! Just… let me go. I’ll never be back. Keep the amulet. Just never read those words!”

Richie couldn’t hide his delight as he stared at the typewritten words on the slip of paper on the amulet’s back side. “N’demnus… Ignio… Dos Sepera… Mutas!”

Suddenly everything went quiet. Outside, a car alarm that had been blaring away ceased. The dull roar of the fridge went silent. The two jewels on the amulet flashed.

Richie blinked. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He felt suddenly buzzed. He suddenly tasted Budweiser--had he even had a sip of the beer he had opened?--and burped up champagne.

He was still in the kitchen--had he blacked out? He grabbed the table to support his weight. He looked down, rubbed his eyes… and didn’t recognize the taut, slender hands moving at his command.

“What the fuck?” he said--it wasn’t his voice. It was Chet’s voice! He was wearing Chet’s shirt.

He almost pissed himself when he saw the massive man standing in front of him. Who the fuck was he, and how was he so damned big? He stared up the thick trunk, the massive limbs, the beefy hand holding the golden amulet… The guy standing in front of him was HIM.

“How the… what the…”

The big Richie-looking guy smiled and regarded the amulet in his hand. “Worked like a charm!” he said. The sound of Richie’s voice coming out of someone else gave him a chill. “Janie was right. Leave it where you could find it and you’d take care of the rest yourself.” The big man threw the amulet to the ground and stomped it with a massive foot, pulverizing it immediately.

Richie backed away. His whole body felt light and slow. Everything seemed bigger, the door further away, until it dawned on him that he was in a smaller body now--Chet’s smaller body.

“Look at me! What do I weight now, 330 pounds?” The big man flexed his huge guns with a grin. Richie couldn’t believe how threatening those eyes looked, how maniacal his dimples made that smile, when seen from this angle. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to carrying this around all the time…” He gave his solid gut a squeeze. “Christ, must be a bitch getting close to fit this body all the time.”

Richie balled up a fist and swung. Fuck, it moved so slow! The big man caught his fist easily, twisting it. Richie yelped and dropped to his knees. Damn, even the shadow the big man was casting on him was huge! Richie couldn’t stop shaking. Feeling small and powerless was something he had never experienced in his entire life. He felt a pit in his stomach as he realized there was nothing he could do against his gigantic adversary--his own body!

“See, the difference between us,” the big guy said, shoving Richie backwards, “is that I’m not going to beat you up. I’m not a fucking bully. You’re welcome to try, but let me just tell you… you weigh 170 pounds now and you’re 5’10”. You’re wiry as hell, and you’ve got incredibly strong abs, but you’re not built for much more than fucking. Oh, and by the way… you’re broke as hell. When I was you, I was escorting to pay the bills… but now that I’m Richie Incognito...” Chet, now big “Richie,” rose to his full height and stuck out his broad, beefy chest. “I think I’m set for life. I think I’ll retire. Janie and I have big plans for all that cash.”

“But… that’s my body!” Richie, now “Chet,” whined.

“What kind of dick are you packing in here?” the big man said, yanking the front of his pants forward. “Shit, look at that. You’ve got a big hog! And finally someone’s in charge of it that knows how to use it!”

Still not willing to give up, Richie rose to his feet and kicked for the big man’s balls. The big guy just chuckled and deflected the weak attack with one tree-trunk thick arm.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I was never very strong in that body. Never trained for size. Light weight, hundreds of reps. That’s how you get a body women want to fuck. Not going to help you much here.”

Richie crawled toward the door, streaming expletives under his breath as he reached up, undid the chain and deadbolt on HIS DOOR and ran outside. He saw HIS huge, beautiful truck (which now seemed twice the size he remembered it) and actually sobbed as he had to run past it. Behind him, big “Richie” filled the hole doorway. The big man shot a thick middle finger at him as little Richie ran away with no idea where Chet lived or what kind of car he drove.