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Kezu suddenly remembered that he was dead. Which was strange, considering most people, when dead, didn't remember anything at all. The ghost wondered how many years had passed since the last time he remembered he was dead. That time, almost a hundred years had gone by before Kezu stopped ghostdreaming and remembered. He never passed on, neither to the Great Beyond, nor to the Great Beneath. Instead, he sort of...didn't exist until he did. Until he remembered to remember and until he forgot to remember again.

Ghostly weirdness aside, Kezu didn't really mind being dead. In life, he had been invisible to everyone anyway. His family didn't pay him much attention, his friends (if one could call them that) ignored him most of the time anyway. The pine marten had been ignored by anyone he wanted to be noticed by, and ironically, unmissable to those he did not. The bullies never got tired of hassling him. Spilling his lunch on the cobblestones, stealing his shoes, or his bookbag. Thus continued his meager existence until the day he died, which was also the day he had had enough. He had been late that day, and it was raining. He was running through the falling rain, trying to get home from school before dark. A paw had dragged him into an alleyway, and before the pine marten even knew it, there was a cock in his face. A heavy, musky shaft belonging to his worst bully, a stocky black bull named...Kezu couldn't remember. All those years, and he had forgotten the bully bull's name. But he never forgot the meat that the bull thrust into his face. Kezu was filled with both undeniable lust and unquenchable, frustrated rage all at once. Even as he felt his front teeth knocked out by that cock as it plunged down his throat, Kezu knew he was going to make the bully pay.

And he did. He didn't need his front teeth for that.

All he needed was a shoelace and his pocket knife. The bull didn't even notice until Kezu held up his big, black balls and smiled. Unfortunately, the bovine panicked, and Kezu's slender, underfed neck couldn't withstand the squeeze of those huge, terrified hands.

And now he remembered again, sitting in the same old dingy alleyway he had died in. Every so often, he remembered. He woke from the oblivion of deathless death to see that the world changed rapidly, but his little alleyway stayed just the same. That, and one other thing always stayed the same. No matter how much time passed between Kezu's consciousness, there were always, always horny, hotheaded and pushy males who took advantage of those weaker than they. And Kezu did not like that.

The pine marten looked around. As usual, his alleyway was flanked on all sides by brick walls, that much hadn't changed. No longer floored with dirt, instead concrete and asphalt had created a drainage grate at the far end. One of the buildings had become a chinese restaurant, and the other, some sort of bank. Kezu didn't really care, as no one bothered his little alleyway unless they had to. He wondered if they knew it belonged to him.

Kezu stood up and walked, his feet falling silently on the sidewalk. It was early morning, before the sun was all the way up. The grey light of predawn illuminated a rain-slick road with automobiles parked at its edges. The chinese restaurant's neon signs hummed lightly above Kezu as he started to walk. He knew he wouldn't be awake long, but he wanted to make sure he took full advantage of his time here. The pine marten smiled to himself as he wandered, invisibly, down the quiet street. He passed by windows for apartment buildings, his gaze peeking curiously within. What he saw most of the time didn't make sense to him; the strange contraptions and glowing boxes inside the homes were alien to his archaic sensibilities.

At times though, Kezu saw things he did recognize. At the moment, peering through a window that was open near the ground floor of the apartment building it belonged to, Kezu watched a large, heavyset Elk strip out of a high visibility vest. The Elk was grinning, clearly talking to someone as he took off his clothes. Kezu watched a thick belly and broad chest come into view, thick with grey fur over muscle and bulk. He was wide around the middle, Kezu getting a wonderful view of two furry ass cheeks as he turned to pull down his pants, his leg lifting to reveal two baseball sized hairy cods dangling low in a slack coinpurse. The pine marten would have drooled if he could have. He knew he would have been stiff as iron in his pants, had he still had a corporeal form. It almost made him feel alive again, sneakily spying on the Elk's low-slung fruits. The construction worker turned, and Kezu got to watch him stroke a fat cock as long as a beer bottle to stiffness, its head already leaking. He got to watch the hairy, naked Elk mount up, and that fuzzy rump humphumphump away at someone below Kezu's view in the window. Slapslapslap when those broad round balls, their sack loose as an empty burlap bag with two apples rolling about inside it.

The pine marten watched for awhile, mesmerized by the hump and smack of the Elk's virility against his partner. He could hear the groans and the grunting through the window, and almost as though the Elk felt Kezu's presence, the sweaty construction worker looked over his shoulder at the window. Seeing nothing, he smirked at the open glass, apparently appreciating the risk of being seen, he turned his partner to face the window more and continued fucking. The pine marten watched awhile longer, until the Elk's nuts bounced and he stopped thrusting, clearly popping his cork in whomever he was fucking. Then Kezu lost interest. It was one thing to see a male use his pride, but Kezu was interested in something else entirely.

The slender mustelid continued his walk until he saw a door to a townhouse open ahead of him. A bulky moose stepped out onto his front porch. He was dressed in a tanktop, a pair of short-shorts clinging to his hips like saran wrap on christmas dinner. Kezu watched him stretch his arms, his thick legs, putting headphones in his ears. The pine marten didn't really know what the moose was doing, or why, but he watched all the same. Those short shorts were bulging heavily with a basket they could scarce contain. Kezu smirked. After watching the elk from before use his virility, he was very interested in the set of it that bounced ahead of him now. The moose hopped down the steps of his porch, jogging off into a nice run in the early morning air. Kezu followed him, watching, noticing he could see the moose's package jounce and jostle along even from behind him, by watching the gap between the bulky ungulate's thick thighs. Kezu didn't know what it was called, but the moose was wearing a jockstrap beneath his shorts that kept his manhood corralled in its pouch. But only barely. Kezu could see the straps around the tops of the moose's thighs, and above his waistband.

Intrigued, the pine marten sped up to keep pace with the moose, finding that he could easily float after the jogging ungulate and catch up to him. His eyes roamed the sweating beast, watching his muscles bulge and flex as he ran. They were nice, but they were nothing compared to the swell and bob of that bulge between his legs. Kezu could see the long, curved lump of the moose's prick laid against his shorts, a downward curving 'C' shape that tucked its end under his balls. Those huge ovals were like mangoes, a couple of swollen '0's alongside that curved column of his shaft.

Kezu watched the languid, gravid shuffle of those assets up and down in the moose's shorts, vying and jostling with each other for the limited real estate in that jock's pouch. One thigh came up, and the nut on that side rose with it, pushing its brother and the moose's shaft down and to the side. The other rose up with the opposite thigh, shuffling up and down with every step as though the moose's balls were stroking his cock off while he ran. And given the size of that slung hose of moose meat, it wouldn't have surprised Kezu if that's exactly what was happening. The moose himself didn't seem too concerned that his nuts were skidding up and down his dick with every step. He was staring into the middle distance, humming to his music, and lost in the 'zone'.

The pine marten learned long ago that he didn't actually have to 'step' to move his body. All he had to do was will himself to move, and his ghostly form obeyed. This allowed Kezu to move at the same speed as the moose, while levitating unseen, unfelt, and unobstructedly between the jogging moose's thick thighs. Things like shorts and jockstraps looked nice, but they were no obstruction nor protection from the curious, mischievous spirit. Kezu was able to bury his face in that moose's crotch, through the shorts, through the stretched, sweaty jock, without removing them. He passed through the material of both garments until he sensed, smelled, and felt the naked, damp skin and fur of the moose's manhood against his whiskers. The moose felt nothing. He kept running, unaware that a ghost was nuzzling his nuts while he did.

Thanks to his unique physiology, Kezu was able to push his muzzle 'through' the moose's cock, and let the ungulate's big nuts stroke up and down his cheeks instead. The pine marten giggled silently as those thick ovoid eggs rolled over his muzzle. If Kezu had been flesh and blood, he would have reeked of moose musk for a week. Being near such a heady source of virility and life, the pine marten always felt revitalized, closer to being alive than he normally did. It was for that reason, and his own personal 'vendetta' of sorts, that Kezu opened his mouth.

Imagine catching a ping pong ball in your mouth. Now grow that ping pong ball to the size of a mango and still have it 'fit' inside your mouth. That was what Kezu was experiencing. His ghostly form allowed that heavy, swollen, fat, musky moose nugget to 'plop' into his mouth and be contained inside it as though within a 'hammer space' void. If one looked at the outside of the moose's shorts at that moment, they would have seen that fat, meaty cock curve, and one bouncing, bulbous moose orb jouncing up and down inside that jock. The other was just...gone. But it wasn't gone, not really. Because Kezu hadn't swallowed. He was playing with the moose's testicle, his ghostly tongue slurping at it, around it, inside that scrote and outside of it. He didn't need to breathe, so he never had to come up for air as he got intimately acquainted with the moose's testicle. Every curve, every tube, every sperm laden vesicle.

Kezu let it pop back out of his mouth then. The moose couldn't feel anything, even though his nut was moving between dimensions. It was back in his shorts, back squidged into that jockstrap's medium sized pouch with his xxxl brother. Like it had never even left, it started pumping up and down once more. The pine marten grinned. He loved being a ghost, he knew.

Once more that large moose nut was slurped into Kezu's mouth, disappearing from the ungulate's jockstrap. Then Kezu sucked down the second. If he had been a squirrel of flesh and blood, those balls would have been overflowing his cheeks, stretching his maw to its limit like trying to swallow two lightbulbs. But Kezu was not a squirrel. And to an observer, it looked as though the moose had no balls at all. They were gone from his jockstrap as though they had never been there at all. If the moose hadn't been in the 'zone', he might've noticed his prick dangling flaccidly, untouched, inside the jock that now fit its turgid girth quite nicely. He did not. To the rest of the world, he was already a eunuch. Not to Kezu, though.

No, the moose's pride and joy, his massive virility, they were Kezu's now. The marten was having his fun, moving those sweaty, pride-salty cods about inside his own maw. He found that he could twist them around and around with his tongue, the huge cods sliding over each other, jostling, squirming, fighting for the dwindling 'slack' of their own ballsack. Cords noosing, twisting, twining like braids, those fat nuts strangled and swelled, still technically attached to the moose's body but they were in a space where biology, physiology, and physics meant absolutely nothing. Kezu could do as he pleased with those bastions of life force and potency. And he intended to.

Kezu smirked as he lightly scraped the small, sharp teeth at the roof of his mouth against the root of the moose's prick where his sack would have, should have, connected to his body. It might as well have been the pass of a straight razor. The grim reaper had his scythe for severing the life threads of his victims. Kezu had his teeth. As he did, he stopped floating, and the moose jogged on, unaware. Unknowingly having just deposited his family line into a ghostly donation box. His shorts were far emptier, but there was no grisly blood, no ache and pain. Only a coolness, and a taut, silver scar as though the moose had been castrated years ago under his swinging, sweaty...shrivelling...dick.

Kezu swallowed. Now the moose was a eunuch. The pine marten felt those warm, living testicles slide down into his belly, living physical flesh becoming mortar for the pine marten's dwindling aetherial ectoplasm. Everything the moose's family line could have been, all that potential life and masculinity and prime male virility, it all became glue to hold Kezu's spirit and mind together. He felt revitalized, as though he'd just had his first cup of coffee after a long, hard, exhausted sleep.

He wanted more.

To Be Continued...