Gay Gangster Ghosts: Chugger (Patreon)

“I really messed up this time...” Don thought as he opened his apartment’s door. In the doorway stood a pair of the biggest, meanest, ugliest goons he’d ever seen. Don himself was a heavy guy, but these two made him feel like a little schoolboy. The first one to catch his eye was a stout mustachioed fella in a stained dark suit who’d have to duck to keep from hitting his head on the door frame. 

“This one probably gets his hands and clothes dirty a lot, and doesn’t give a damn...” Don thought to himself with a gulp as he turned to the other mook. Not nearly as big, and definitely more fat to him than muscle, but something about his cheap black trench coat and the things that could possibly be in it along with his sunken eyes and weaselly grin made their unfortunate host start sweating bullets. “This one probably gets messy too but actually cares about his suits...” Don thought. 

“C-c-can I help you fellas?” Don squeaked, scratching his mustache. He immediately regretted opening his mouth due to how wimpy he sounded. Realizing he was in deep shit, countless options surged through his head as he tried to figure out a way to get out of this situation, even considering jumping out of his 3rd story window. 

(Better a quick stain on the pavement than a slow painful end fulla holes...) 

“Why, yes you can my good buddy!” the weaselly one chuckled. “Ya see, me and Rocco here were lookin’ for a party, and since you’re so good at crashin’ em, we figured you’d know where the best ones were!” He wedged himself in the doorway so it couldn’t be closed. 

(Oh god...the party last week! I knew that broad was loaded, but she can afford goons like THIS?!) 

“Party? I..uh...what party?” Don asked sounding like a complete moron, hoping that playing dumb would make this go away somehow. 

No such luck. 

Now it was Rocco’s turn to flash a smile,  and right then and there Don decided that he would rather see a thousand weaselly smiles before he saw just one more Rocco grin. It looked more like a cobra baring its fangs than any smile ought to. The options Don thought would allow him to survive the night were dwindling fast. 

C’mon pally, you ain’t foolin nobody,” Rocco barked. “You were hired to do a job at Marjorie Mancini’s birthday party, and you did something you weren’t sposed ta, and that made the Don a little upset.” 

(Oh god. Oh god. OH. GOD.) Don’s heartbeat was in his ears now. (That’s who I’ve been doing jobs for?!) 

The...t...the D...D...Don? You mean me?” Don sheepishly replied pointing to himself, still trying to play dumb. In response Rocco grabbed the poor guy’s head and slammed his face into the door frame. Blood streamed down his nose. 

“I...ghet eht...” Don gurgled trying to recompose himself. 

“There, now we’re on the same page,” the weasel snapped. “And unless you want Rocco to do that again, we’re all gonna stay on the same page, capisce?” 

Don nodded, and moved his tongue through his mouth trying to see if he lost any teeth. The taste of his own blood made him nauseous. 

“Mizz Marjorie didn’t like what you did to her fiance, Jack. I mean, the idiota is a few eggs short of an omelet and a little...” Rocco started making hand gestures that Don assumes means “Gay as the day is long.”, though they got a little too out there and Don started considering he had no idea what the big lug is trying to convey. “...ya know...but what can I say, her taste in fellas is her business.” 

Jack. The chubby fella with the goofy as fuck grin and the biggest wimp he’d ever met. Was head over heels for just about any dude who showed some machismo. 

Don’s ideal man. 

But now he was confused. Maybe it was the potential concussion, but as far as he remembered, he didn’t do anything to Jack! Hell, the exact opposite happened! 

“Kinda screwy that they had you do this WHILE the party was going on...” Jack quipped to Don, who was working under the reception hall’s bathroom sink. 

Don stopped fiddling with his wrench. “Not really my business. The pay’s good so I’m gonna keep my mouth shut about it and make sure people don’t have to dance cross legged all night.” 

Jack downed his martini. “Oh golly, yer one of those tough guys huh?” he half-whispered, putting his hand to his mouth. “You got some big muscles! I bet you’re pretty much all muscles, huh?” 

“Pal, you can only see the bottom half of me. I enjoy food a little too much to be a musclehead!” Don laughed. 

“Still...I bet you’ve got some real big arms!” Jack cooed. 

The handyman let out a snicker. “Fella, if you’re butterin’ me up to get me to work faster, forget about it. A guy like me only works at one speed, and nothin’ changes it.” 

Jack started to rub his chin as a devilish grin spread on his face. “I can think of a thing or two that could change your pace.” 

Now Don was a little bewildered. “Hey, what do you mean by thaaAAAAAH!” He got his answer before he even finished his sentence, Jack had sat on the ground and started rubbing Don’s bulge, causing a tent to form in the handyman’s black work pants. “HEY! What do you think you’re doing? People are gonna see you! S-stop!” 

“While you’re all riled up like this? No way! Lemme just take care of these...” the chubby man giggled as he began undoing his object of attraction’s trousers. 

Don tried to sit up. 

“Now listen here you-” *THUNK* “Sunova god fuck!” 

...but hit his head on the pipe he was repairing. 

“Did you hurt yourself? Lemme kiss it better...” Jack smirked as he started nuzzling Don’s crotch. 

“That’s not what got hurt and you know it!” 

“Aww, my mistake, lemme make it up to you...” Done with teasing, Jack started sucking on Don’s cock with a loud slurp. 

“I w..(ooh) you’d better sto-(oh fuck) I’m seri-(unh...)” the handyman attempted to protest very weakly. 

“Mmmhmmm...” the mischievous man responded with a giggle. 

“Th...they’re gonna (ahh hell...) think we’re both pansies!” 

“Think?” Jack replied knowingly. 

“Okay I’ll admit it, I’m a (sweet lord...) modern fella, I know what you-oo-oo-oo guys get up to... I’ve seen Gene Malin...I’m more of a Harold Lloyd man myself, but...” 

“You are?” Jack replied, removing Don’s dick from his mouth with an audible pop. “I’ve heard he has a huge cock!” 

“Thats not why ya lunkhead, ain’t you ever seen Speedy?” 

“Nope! Don’t think I like a man whose main trait is that he’s fast.” 

“Well you should! Speedy’s great, he teams up with a group of hard drinking, cigar smoking civil war veterans to wreck some crooked railroad tycoon and his goofy thugs.” 

“Really? That’s a lot of brutes!” 

“Yep, and those old soldiers may be lying, cheating, stealing goons, but Speedy can’t save the day without em!" 

“You really like that picture, huh?” 

“Uh huh, now would you mind putting my pants back on and letting me work? I’m surprised there’s not a line at the door already! Plus, I don’t really need your lips on my cock right now.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, between you and me, I’m no stranger to giving a guy the goods, but there’s a time and a place for that, Mister Mouth.” 

“Well if you didn’t want me to use my mouth you just had to say so!” 

“Thanks, pal. I’m willing to put this behind us and start on the right foot if you are.” 

“Oh I’m gonna put it behind me alright...” 

Figuring something was up, Don started to shimmy out of the cabinet as quick as he could. Unfortunately for him his partner was faster, and had his pants down before he could get out of there completely. 

“You like what you see big guy?” Jack said doing a little turn, showing off his round ass. 

(Yes. Yes I do.) 

“Hey...uhh... maybe we should wait till some other time... I mean...this is a party....” Don stammered. 

“Yeah...it IS a party, you need to have some fun!” Jack replied lowering himself onto Don’s dick. 

“Woah there I don’t think yo-Ooooooooh!” Don once again tried to weakly protest, 

“Your dick may not be long, but it sure hits the spot! You really are a handyman!” joked Jack moving his ass up and down. The pleasure was too intense for Don so he just nodded like an idiot. The poor bastard’s libido was as strong as a bucks! Lost in the sex, the two men just enjoyed each other’s company for a while. 

Don looked into Jack’s eyes and a goofy smile spread on his face. Was this this the guy, the one that would be the one to have him stop living a lie and own up to who he was? 

Suddenly the bathroom door swung open, and a thin dark haired girl in a too many frills dress let out a yell that made Don snap back to messy reality and made the rest of the party aware something was going on. 

“Really Jack?! On my BIRTHDAY!?” she shouted. 

(Sounds like this isn’t a one time deal...) 

“Sweetie Pie, how’s the party going?” Jack beamed, still riding Don’s dick. 

(Jack, if you won’t slow down for her sake, slow down for MINE!) 

“Every damn time there’s booze at an event this happens...” she sighed. 

(So much for feelin’ special.) 

“You know about my problem, baby! I’m workin’ on it!” 

“Yeah, I know. You were “working” on it with Father O’Brien, remember how well that worked!?” 

“It’s not my fault he had us share communion wine before confession!” 

“And now he’s not even around to help! How are you dealing with your “problem” now?” she snapped. Jack just gestured below him. 

(Fella’s got courage, I gotta admit. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a relationship spat where one of em had a guy inside em at the time. But please, PLEASE stop talking and get offa me!) 

“I though he was supposed to be fixing the pipe...” a woman gasped peeking into the room. 

“Yeah, well looks like he’s gettin’ HIS pipe fixed!” laughed a guy in response. 

“Hey, I’m sorry lady, he just came onto me and-” started Don. 

“This does NOT concern you!” she snapped. 

(Lady, my dick is in your man, this absolutely concerns me.) 

Suddenly Jack let out a loud cry and began jerking his dick, bouncing even harder on Don. 

“Jack, I can’t fucking believe you! This is a new low!” “Sweetie Pie” yelled. 

Jack eventually reached a climax,  his cum covering the handyman’s stomach. Don tried to contain himself, stifling a loud moan, but with the pudgier man’s ass clenching his dick like a vice, he couldn’t stop himself from filling his partner. 

Right in front of his girlfriend. 

“Well, I’m probably not getting paid today...” he thought. 

Don tried to plead his case. 

“Guys, you got it all wrong, he came on to ME! I was trying to fix the bathroom!” 

The weasel let out a sigh. “Look Mac, I don’t doubt that at all. Hell, if I had a nickel for every time he tried to pull down Rocco’s pants, I’d be in a different business. It’s kinda a rule in the family, any guy Jack is caught with has to go, for Marjorie’s reputation.” 

(So that’s what happened to Father O’Brien. Guess I’m next.) 

“So...this has nothin’ to do with me, but I’m facin’ the consequences.” 

Rocco shrugged. “Pretty much. If it’s all the same to you, Vinnie and I’d prefer to keep things clean. No guns, no knives.” 

Don had to take what little relief he could get. 

“You’re not gonna shoot or stab me?” 

Vinnie laughed.  “Naw, we don’t wanna ruin your beautiful armchair. Like we said, we’re lookin’ for a party.” He punctuated his statement by shaking a bottle of expensive alcohol he was keeping in his coat. 

Grappa. A powerful alcohol. Drinking even a cup of that would be bound to get Don plastered. 

“I’m sorry fellas, I’m not much of a drinker,” Don replied sheepishly. 

“Oh don’t worry, you will be,”  snapped Rocco, before tackling the poor handyman. “Alright boys, he’s alone. It’s show time.” A group of goons marched into Don’s apartment, apparently having been waiting outside the door in case they were needed. 

(Did they really think they needed this many guys to take me out? I repair sinks and lamps for Pete’s sake!) 

“You...you don’t wanna do this! People will know I’m missing!” cried out Don, face down on the floor. 

“Once we’re done with you, they won’t care. Besides, it’s just one less pansy in the world,” Vinnie hissed. “You should be happy the Don was willing to give you a parting gift!” 

“C’mon, I’ll do anything! Please! I’ll give you all my money!” Don pleaded. 

Rocco laughed sounding like some kind of monstrous goose. “There’s no fuckin’ way you can pay anywhere near as much as Mancini. Nice try though.” 

Don finally gave up and opened his mouth, if he was gonna be killed via alcohol poisoning, he was at least gonna make sure they didn’t bust his mouth any more getting the bottle in there. 

“Guess again, puffy,” snickered Vinnie. 

Don thought for a moment and then pushed his nose up with his finger. 

“Lemme give you a hint,” growled Rocco, pulling out his knife. He made a vertical cut along the seat of Don’s pants, and ripped them open with his bare hands. 

Oh. 

“I’ll drink it! Just please, don’t do that!” 

“I thought you kinda guys loved this,” said Rocco spitefully. “Hold him upside down on the armchair, we gotta get this done quick. The boss has a dinner party at 10 and he wanted to hear the news before he went.” 

Don closed his eyes and tried to imagine being somewhere else. Eventually his mind settled on him taking the lead role of his favorite movie, Speedy. 

“Right about now is when the old soldiers would bust in and save the day...” don thought to himself. “They’d kick the asses of all these goons and then I’d buy em all a drink. We’d laugh about the whole damn situation and then I’d-” 

Don’s fantasy was cut off by the sharp pain of a bottle being inserted into his ass. He hated that the hard glass and the pressure of the liquid actually felt kinda good pressing against his prostate. With that and the embarrassment of being seen by a dozen gruff men, the poor guy popped a boner. 

“Look at em, the weirdo loves it!” one of the thugs cackled while moving the bottle back and forth, causing Don to groan in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. 

“You know what the best part of this is?” Vinnie whispered in Don’s ear. “After you croak we’ll move your body and make it look like you had a big dumb boozy accident. Everyone is gonna remember you as a stupid. Drunken. Clown.” 

(This...this isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this...) 

Don looked around the room. Even if he wasn’t being held in place, he’d have to get past all these goons...and he wouldn’t get far. He had an entire bottle of grappa in his system, could he even make it down the stairs?! 

(G...getting woozy...) 

Nausea overcame him and his vision blurred. It was time to face facts. 

Don was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

The last thing he would hear is casual conversation and spiteful laughter... 

But then he woke up. 

He was on the floor, naked. Covered in some kind of unidentifiable sticky substance that he could nonetheless brush off. 

“Did...did they fuck up? Am I okay?” he whispered to himself, almost joyfully. Suddenly an odd groaning sound started coming from the ceiling. A hole started forming, like it was putty being pulled apart, and long thin hairy insect legs started crawling through. 

(Oh sweet merciful Jesus who is- I mean who art in h-h-holy shit fuck!) 

“Do not be afraid,” a raspy yet somehow soothing voice hissed from within the hole. 

Don was beyond petrified. 

The voice repeated itself, this time louder. Whatever it was, it wasn’t making a good case for the whole “don’t be afraid” thing. 

An elderly woman (or at least, some sort of insect-like nightmare monster with an elderly woman’s head) peered out from the emptiness. “Do not be afraid.” 

(Hate to break it to you, but every time you say that I get even more afraid!) 

“W-who are you?” Don stammered. He started backing up before tripping over and falling on his ass. 

The bug-granny pulled itself down through the hole with frightening speed. Don looked it over. This thing could easily eat him as a snack if it wanted. 

(Please don’t want that.) 

The creature repeated itself. Once again saying the only thing it ever said. It reached into a tiny for its size basket and pulled out a pamphlet, shoving it into the handyman’s hands. 

Don wanted to ask it millions of questions, but all that came out was a rather blunt sounding “I...what?” that left him feeling stupid. The monster briefly caressed his cheek in a gesture of kindness he would have rather not had, and then leaped back into the hole it came from. Just like that, it was gone...and so was the hole. 

Huh. 

Seeing no other option to get any information, he looked at the pamphlet. 

DAA 

IMMIGRANT’S SAFETY BOOKLET 

“I was born here, what’s this for?” he nervously chuckled to himself. With his sudden supernatural encounter, he was having trouble denying the truth. He didn’t make it out okay. He was dead as a doornail as that old saying goes. 

He let out a loud sigh. “Might as well get used to this...since it’s forever and all.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Hey cricket granny! This pamphlet better have some good news in it!” Don barked shaking his fist. Cricket granny with a basket full of pamphlets. No priest ever mentioned THAT part of the afterlife to him. It was all golden gates and judgmental geezers. And of course, a lake of fire for guys like him... 

(Good thing THAT doesn’t seem to be a thing...) 

The booklet was surprisingly dull considering the subject matter. Almost entirely rules and regulations, Don found himself somehow stifling a yawn while reading it. He didn’t even know ghosts could yawn... 

(Guess even the afterlife has all that legal nonsense. What a letdown.) 

But then he got to a rule that took him by surprise. 

-DO NOT accept any offers, pacts or gifts from anyone that isn’t a legally authorized officer of the authorities.- 

There’s folks out there making offers? Could he be alive again? Don furiously read the rest of the pages looking for any more info on these offers, maybe even some boring authorized versions, but came up blank. 

“God dammit!” he shouted, throwing the pamphlet at his armchair, the paper landing with a soft “pff”. 

“I’ve never seen anyone actually finish that thing, it’s a REALLY boring read...” a whimsical voice called out. Don looked around the room trying to find the source. Noone else was there, save his...corpse. Ermm. That’s an odd feeling, staring at your own dead body. 

“I know something that’ll hold your attention a lot better!” the voice guffawed. Don’s pamphlet started rattling, so he moved in to get a closer look. 

“E-excuse me?” he asked examining the booklet. 

Suddenly a cock pushed through the pamphlet, causing Don to yell and drop it on the floor. 

“Not the only time I’ll make ya yell like that if you play your cards right, big guy!” his visitor flirted. With a tiny brown bowler hat on his head, equally brown suspenders and pants, bright purple skin, white gloves and what appeared to be white makeup, he looked just like a 

“C-c-clown?!” Don blurted out, falling on his ass for the second time since he died. 

“Boy, we got an observant one here today!” the clown snickered, poking Don in the nose. 

(I get the feeling this guy doesn’t take ANYTHING seriously) 

“Are...you God?”  the handyman asked, narrowing his eyes. After what’d happened so far, he wasn’t about to deny any possibilities. Even if they were a half naked clown in a tiny hat. 

“Nope. Not even sure if he exists, honestly.” 

“Oh. Then are you-” 

“Not him either. However, you are pretty close. Close but no...cigar.” Don’s guest smirked holding up a large lit cigar glowing with ethereal light. 

(It looks just like his cock, that’s not something you see every day.) 

“Do you need something from me? I mean, I do have all the time in the world I think, but...” 

“Actually, I think you need me. I saw what happened to you, and it was pretty fuckin’ hot! I think I would have gotten the whole bottle in there, but that’s just-” 

Don stood up and got in the clown’s face. “You saw what happened and didn’t do anything?!” 

“Pal. I’m a ghost just like you. What was I gonna do, wave my cock in their face? They wouldn’t even see it! I mean it would have been funny, but they would have still made you into a cask.” 

“Oh.” He turned to his own dead body. “I guess that settles it. I’m-” 

“Dead. Gone. We can move past that part. You’re different from the guys I usually work with, hired goons wrap their heads around death pretty quick. What did you used to be?” 

"Handyman"

Right. Since you fixed chairs instead of killing people I’m gonna be a little more hands on.” The spirit said while groping Don’s chest. “You feel angry about what happened, right? Wanna get even? We can do that. Mancini has some ties to an old friend of mine so I know exactly how he operates. Hell, if you want, we can take them all down to the last man. 

The newly dead handyman was lost in thought. Here he was, offered a chance to be a hero and bring justice to some cold blooded killers. It sounded as fantastic as it did impossible. 

But something about this purple ghost didn’t sit right with him. Every time Don opened his mouth to speak the hand holding the cigar twitched. The spirit had two holes in his chest that were constantly oozing some sort of aqua colored substance. Despite the serious subject matter, he sounded like this was a joke. On top of all that his main method of convincing Don was groping him. He even started pinching his nipples! 

Could this clown be trusted? 

“Why do you want to help me? I don’t really have nothin’ to offer you in exchange.” 

The spirit let out a low chuckle. “Selling yourself a little short, aren’t you big guy? Number one: You’re sexy. Number two: I could always use a guy who can fix things. And as for three...” he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

Images flashed through his mind. 

A muscular man fighting to protect his friends even as his throat is slit. 

A fat man clutching his sliced open stomach in horror and disbelief. 

A normally proud leader, abandoning his persona and begging for his life. 

“Consider me a...kindred spirit.” he replied with bitterness in his voice. The two holes in his chest were gushing with fluid and the corner of his mouth was twitching. 

Don decided to not ask what he meant by that. 

“I...you want me to join you?” 

The ghost took a drag on his cigar and blew it in Don’s face. The scent was indescribable, but somehow made him horny. 

“One puff of this and you’ll be just like me, a member of the Bowler Hats. You’ll be able to continue existing forever. All the sex, drinking, and smoking you could ever want would be yours, and you’ll have all the time in the world to get your revenge on Mancini and his goons.” The spirit offered his cigar to the handyman. “So whatdaya say? Wanna join my gang?” 

Don was overwhelmed. 

“I’m sorry mister...?” 

“Boss.” 

“I’m sorry, Boss. I need some time to think about this.” 

“You have less time than you think, pal. Eventually “they’re” gonna find you, and once they do, this and any other offer someone might have are off the table.” 

“They?” 

“Probably better off not knowing. Based on what I’ve seen so far you’d probably have a panic attack or something.” 

“Well, still. Gimme a couple minutes, okay bub? Forever is a long time, ya know?” 

The ghost cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey fellas! He needs convincing!” 

Suddenly dozens of purple ghosts phased through the walls in a cacophony of laughter and moans. At first Don thought they were in pain, but he quickly realized that most of the spirits were in one way or another fucking. 

(Guess he wasn’t kidding about the sex.) 

One of them flew out of the crowd and hovered over his head. He had a pencil thin mustache, a pot belly, and a demeanor that told Don he was a complete pushover. 

Love at first sight. 

“You should really join us, I promise you won’t regret it!” he said with a little smile. “After all, you’d get to see this all the time!” The ghost lifted his legs into the air to show a detached cock and balls pounding into his ass. 

Don instinctively tried to pull off one of his fingers with no luck. 

“That’s part of the package,” Boss quipped before turning to his companion. “Hey, Pudgy! Which one is that?” 

“I was in the mood for a little pork!” Pudgy giggled as he pointed to a ghost dressed like a police officer. Where his junk would be there was a smoky cyan colored spot, and he was just sitting there with a glazed expression and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

The deal was looking better and better, and Don’s libido was too strong to ignore everything around him. 

“Pick your jaw back up, pally,” Boss said moving his hand from Don’s nipple to his chin. “Keep it hanging like that and you’re gonna start droolin'” 

“A-are all of these...?” 

“Mine? Yes indeedy! Being the boss has its perks after all.” 

Don looked around the room in awe. This had to be paradise! But just like with Boss, something seemed wrong. Then it hit him. 

Slashed gut. 

Cracked skull. 

E-exploded head? 

All of these men had some sort of wound! 

“W...what happened to them?!” stammered Don. “A...are they okay?” 

“More than okay!” beamed Pudgy “It doesn’t even hurt!” He turned showing Don a small bullet hole on the side of his forehead. Cyan just like the rest of the injuries. 

“Alright... but that guy with the exploded noggin! Can he...” Don made compressing motions with his hands. “Can he put his head back together? Those pieces are just floating there...how does the hat stay in place?” 

“You know, I never asked,” Boss said while scratching his chin. “Felt a little rude, ya know?” 

“But how did-” 

“Dynamite.” 

“Oh. What about you?” 

“To be frank, I had a little disagreement with my old boss.” 

“What was it about?” 

“I wanted to keep living and he disagreed.” 

“...ah.” 

“All of us have a story just like yours, some connection to the mob led to us meeting a grisly end,” Boss said moving his hand to Don’s shoulder. “Of course, some of those connections were me and my gang...but I’ll spare you the details.” 

“... So you can help get those guys who killed me?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time the Bowler Hats took out a rival gang. Hell, we took out my old boss and his goons to the last one!” 

Don rubbed his forehead trying to fully comprehend what was going on. “And if we do this...it’s an equal partnership, right?” 

A few of the ghosts let out loud obnoxious laughs and started talking amongst themselves. Don wasn’t able to make out everything they were saying, but he definitely heard a bulky British one with a beard and whiskers call him a “dumb fucking cockslut who should be on his knees guzzling cum”. 

(That guy’s probably got one hell of a story...) 

“Sure. Equal partners,” Boss chuckled removing his hand from Don’s shoulder and maneuvering it for a handshake. “ 

(If Speedy can make a deal with some cigar smoking lowlifes, so can I.) 

Don met Boss’s handshake. “So...what do I do now? I...I’ve never tried a cigar before...” 

Boss shoved his cigar in Don’s mouth. 

Compulsion took over and Don inhaled the strange cigar like the damn thing was the only thing keeping him from wasting away. He couldn’t stop! The drag seemed to last an eternity. Contrary to what he expected, he didn’t seem to notice any difference at first, except a sort of full feeling. “I already have a buck’s libido and love to fuck men, what could it change?” he thought, but then he noticed a heat first spreading to his chest, then his stomach, and reaching an almost overwhelming warmth in his groin before spreading to the rest of his body. 

(So...so good...) 

The last change he felt was a fuzziness growing in his mind, and all his anxieties and idle thoughts washing away. 

“HO-HOLY SHIT! I SHOULDA TRIED THESE FUCKIN THINGS YEARS AGO! THAT FELT FUCKING AMAZING!” he shouted, before taking another drag on the cigar.  He sputtered when he looked at his body. 

Bright purple skin and white gloves. 

His work pants were back in a brown hue, along with their suspenders and his work boots. 

His cock was warmer and harder than it had ever been. It was almost aching! 

“I...I’m a...?” he stammered. 

“Clown?” Boss replied with a snicker. “Welcome to the gang, buddy. I’m liking the look, the tank top wasn’t doing you much good anyw-” he stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared at the top of Don’s head. 

“Is there somethin’ on my face? “Should” there be somethin’ on my face?” 

“Your bowler hat...” 

“Is it on wrong?” 

“No... it’s black,” he said giving the object a little thump, causing it to spring back cartoonishly. “My guess is that either your grudge fucked with the curse, or something else is trying to lay claim to your soul. 

Boss poked Don in the chest. “You make a deal with anyone else?” 

“You’re the first thing I saw! After that cricket...grandma...thing I mean. Maybe I’m a little more smart and have more self-control than your goons!” 

Boss responded to this by waving his cock around, and in less than three seconds Don was on his knees sucking it ravenously. 

“See? I told you!” guffawed the whiskered goon from the end of the room. 

“Thsss prvvs nffen,” Dom said slurping on Bosses dick. 

“Sure it doesn’t... Oh! The band on your hat changed color. I guess whatever’s weird about it will be over eventually. I bet you’ll have fun blendin’ in with us and sucking everyone’s cock huh?” 

“Uh huh...” replied Don, enraptured by the organ in his mouth. “...ssss good.” 

“Boss, I found somethin’! A bottle even!” yelled Pudgy. It was next to that dead body! 

Don snapped out of his stupor and took Boss’s cock out of his mouth. “Grappa? That’s the stuff they killed me with!” 

“Oh...this looks like a rum bottle...sorta. Never seen one like this in my life OR afterlife!” 

“Lemme see that,” Boss said grabbing the bottle from Pudgy. “Bwahahahaha! Oh boy, the big man sure does have a sense of humor! Looks like he changed this bottle so it’d come with you! He even made the neck cock shaped. How thoughtful.” 

The bottle’s label was replaced with a very flowery plus-shaped symbol that Dom didn’t recognize, and the glass itself was purple, the same as their skin.  The neck was long and thick, and tapered into a cyan colored topper shaped like a dick head. Whoever Boss was talking about made the bottle look a LOT like one of their cocks. Was this a gift, or some kinda joke at his expense? Either way, Don felt like this “big man” would probably be the last person he wanted to meet. 

Unless he was really hot... 

“Hey, can I see that bottle for a sec?” Don asked. 

“Be my guest.” 

Don pulled the topper off and immediately took a swig. 

“Woah! I thought you told those goons you didn’t drink!” Pudgy gasped. 

“Ain’t no better time to start than now, plus this beauty was callin’ to me.” 

“Well, don’t get plastered yet, buddy. We got work to do.” Boss said pulling the bottle down from Don’s mouth. “First thing’s first, you need a new name.” 

“I like Speedy.” 

“I bet you do.” 

“You don’t look very speedy,” Pudgy teased while poking Don in the belly. “With your new drink I think you should be called Blush!” 

“I dunno, that might make people think I’m a pansy.” 

“Whadya mean “think”, ya rum-swillin’ poof?!” barked the whiskered goon with a loud guffaw. 

“...okay I gotta ask. Who’s that fuckin’ guy back there, and does he ever shut up?” 

“Oh, just an old rival turned friend, don’t worry about him, and believe me, he NEVER stops talking,” Boss sighed. “Pudgy brings up a point though. If you’re gonna be drinking that you need an appropriate name...Chugger.” 

“Chugger? I like the sound of that. Anything else we gotta do? I’m gonna get my cock sucked and down this bottle if ya don’t need me for nothin’.” Don/Chugger said with a yawn. 

Boss frowned. “We gotta plan your revenge, right?” 

Chugger’s eyes snapped open. “R-right. They killed me.” A devious grin spread on his face. “And we gotta get em back good!” 

“Chugger, your rum is bubbling...” Pudgy pointed out. “Does...does rum normally do that?” 

“Aww I’m sure it’s fine! Anyway fellas... here’s my plan... Hey you, in the green sweater! Come suck my cock! Yeah as I was saying, I’ve repaired some stuff at the Mancini mansion a few times and- ooh, you got lips like a vice, bub!...” 

“Chugger...are you sure this is the place?” Pudgy asked. “None of the mob hideouts I’ve ever been to had so many...ribbons.” 

“Mancini pretends to be a simple hard working construction company owner most of the time. Whenever a project is finished he dolls up the building and throws a banquet.” Chugger put a hand on his hip. “He always made me work on those days, and now I know why. I made him look like he was trying to get work done even when he wasn’t working.” 

Chugger grimaced. “And the pay wasn’t even good...” 

“So uh...what made him want you gone?” Pudgy asked scratching his chin. 

“My dick was in his daughter’s boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” 

“Ayup.” 

“Well...what’s the plan? I didn’t catch half of it in between Tiny’s sucking sounds and your moans.” 

“Me and you are gonna take his thugs out before the banquet and Boss is gonna call a few buddies in to help...I think. I missed some of it too...” Chugger said sheepishly. 

The two ghosts floated down the marble halls looking into each room to find Mancini’s thugs. The place was decorated top to bottom in fancy purple ribbons and streamers, which only added to the eeriness of the place. 

“The place is kinda barren. Empty even,” quipped Pudgy. 

“I think he keeps most of his goons away on these occasions so any other dons who show up don’t get scared.” 

“Doesn’t that leave him kinda...vulnerable?” 

Chugger tapped his head. “Exactly, Pudgy. No one to get in our way.” 

“But...we’re ghosts?” 

“Well, ya see... the thing about that is... Aww who asked you anyway?!” Chugger yelled in a huff. 

“Boy, she’s got some great tits!” laughed a familiar voice down the hall. 

Rocco. 

Chugger took a swig of his rum. “Looks like we found our goons." 

“So, you know what you’re gonna do to em?” 

“Oh boy, do I...” 

The two floated through the walls in the direction Rocco’s voice came from, with Chugger letting out a small shiver every time he phased through one, still not used to his incorporeal form...or the fact that he couldn’t interact with regular people anymore. 

Was revenge and endless sex worth it? 

(Until I know what the alternative to this was, I’m gonna say yes...) 

“Hey Pudgy...” Chugger said coming to a stop. 

“Yeah?” 

“How did you...ya know?” he followed his statement by closing his eyes, sticking his tongue out, and falling on his back. 

“Oh! Um...After I ratted em out Boss, Tiny, and Slim all haunted me for a week until I blew my brains out,” Pudgy replied pointing to the spot on his head. 

Chugger’s jaw dropped. “Do...do they do that often?” 

“Ya know, funny you mention that, aside from those British guys who were already ghosts, and the three who got me, all of the fellas who joined up were killed by the bowler hats in some way.” 

The handyman swallowed hard. “You...you don’t say. And Slim is the...?” 

“The fat one. Swell guy, always has a smile on his face.” 

“Right. We should probably go wreck those thugs, huh?” 

“Yep! Though, maybe we should wait a minute.” 

“Why?” 

“So you can finish fucking yourself with that bottle.” 

Chugger looked down and saw that he’d been pushing the rum bottleneck in and out of his asshole. Even while he was embarrassed and a little ashamed from his actions, he kept rubbing the bottle against his prostate. It felt so good! 

“H-how long have I been doing that?” he asked nervously. 

“Well, I first noticed it lodged into you when you started talking about how the pay for working for Mancini was awful, but I thought that was a little screwy. And then it got even screwier when you asked me how I died with it hanging out of your butt. And then it-” 

“ALRIGHT I GET IT! Let’s just...go do...something.” Chugger grumbled waving his hands and floating off. 

The two made their way to the source of the noise, the building’s basement. A group of four thugs were sitting around a card table playing poker and drinking whiskey. Vinnie and Rocco were present like Chugger suspected, as well as a thin dour looking man in an expensive suit and covered with scars, and a rotund man wearing a tank top and a large grimace, who didn’t look like he talked much. The cards themselves had (of course) scantly clad women on them. A dingy radio in the corner was belting out some song about the “good old days” while a lightbulb attached to a wire swayed slowly in the air, providing shadowy light to their game. 

(Well that explains Rocco’s comment.) 

Being in front of a bunch of guys made Chugger feel especially frisky, and he wanted to give his new friend a little show, despite his embarrassment just a little earlier. Being a bowler hat was a whirlwind of lust that short circuited his brain, but he didn’t care. 

“Hey Pudgy, you ever seen a fella do this!?” he laughed as he shoved the entire rum bottle into his ass. “Oh wow, that felt even better than I thought it would, heheh!” 

“I did once see a guy take every gang member’s cock in a row, and then all at once, but this is new!” Pudgy responded giggling. 

“Aww, I’m gonna have to do a little better then huh? C’mere!” he snarked, pulling in the wimpy man for a kiss. The two started making out passionately in the air, with the four men below them continuing to play cards none the wiser. Their breath was hot and shallow as they ran their hands over each other, stopping briefly on occasion to fondle each other’s leaky cocks. 

“You think they’ll notice if I fucked your tight ass right in front of them?” asked Chugger huskily. 

“Only one way to find out big fella...” 

The duo lowered themselves until they were right above the card table, and Pudgy lowered his pants enough that his ass was hanging out. His companion decided to give his round rump a playful little smack. 

“I think this might be the best damn ass I’ve even seen!” Chugger laughed. “How’d a guy like you get such a nice butt? 

“Uhh, all that running from the cops and gangs I guess!” Pudgy shrugged. 

“Your life was so much more interesting than mine, I was just a handyman...” 

“But now you’re one of us! You’re a member of the bowler hats now, making trouble for all sorts of guys!” 

“Huh, you’re right! I almost forgot what we were doing, heheh!” 

“Now, could you stop thinking so much and fuck my ass, please? These guys aren’t gonna be playing poker forever!” 

(You don’t gotta tell me twice!) 

Chugger wrapped his arms around Pudgy and started thrusting into him, letting out loud grunts. The warmth of Pudgy’s body was almost as intense as the pleasure causing him to bend both of their bodies over to a hunched position in an attempt to keep both of them steady. 

“You didn’t get to do this too often while you (ooh!) were alive, huh?” Pudgy gasped. 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Make up for lost time then!” Pudgy smirked with a kiss. 

Chugger started fucking his companion as hard as he could, locking him into a deep kiss that stifled Pudgy’s moans, not that the thugs could hear them. The duo didn’t last very long, and Pudgy his load onto the card table with a loud yell into Chugger’s mouth. 

“Did...did you guys hear a dripping noise?” Rocco asked. 

“Nope. If that’s your idea of a bluff you gotta be a denser fuck than I thought!” Vinnie replied shuffling his hand. 

The other two thugs chuckled. “Rocco, just cuz yer bad at cards doesn’t mean you can try tricking us!” One of em scolded. 

“I’m not fibbing! I really heard something!” Rocco pleaded with them. 

“You sure it wasn’t just your cup? You have been hittin’ the sauce pretty hard,“ chided Vinnie. 

The four men continued to argue amongst themselves (Or more accurately, three of them dogpiled on the one unfortunate bastard who managed to notice something.), never noticing the two spirits who just had a quickie right in front of them. 

“A toast!” Chugger said giggling. “To the Bowler Hats, and to good fucks!” Then took a long swig of his rum. 

“You want some, buddy?” he said shaking the bottle back and forth. 

“Aww I dunno, I mean, ever since this one time with wine I never really liked drinking too much.” 

Chugger pulled out his cigar and started puffing on it. “I dunno what happened with the wine, Pudgy, but I can promise you this rum is top notch. C’mon! After-live a little! What do you think’s gonna happen, the booze is gonna try and getcha?” 

“...maybe?” 

The handyman ghost peeked into the bottle. “Nope. Don’t see no demons or spirits or whatever was in that damn wine you’re worried about. It’s all safe” He tapped the bottom of the bottle for emphasis. 

“I...I guess one sip won’t hurt, huh?” Pudgy said timidly. “Okay, I’ll try it, but only a little!” The wimpy ghost closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. 

Chugger immediately turned the bottle upside down into Pudgy’s mouth. 

“Ack! (cough cough) That your idea of a (hic!) little?!” he coughed. His cheeks turned a little rosy and his eyes were partially closed. “Why I oughtta (hic!)...” He put his hands into a fisticuffs pose and closed the small distance between him and Chugger. “You know what (hic!) I think of ya doin’ that?! 

(Oh boy.) 

“I...I love ya (hic!) big guy!” the now clearly drunk off his ass ghost said giving his pal a peck on the cheek and a big hug. Chugger immediately looked into the bottle with extreme confusion. 

“What the hell is in this?!” 

“Hey... how can you drink thi- (hic!), you drink thi- (hic!), you dri- (hic!). Why aren’t you drunk?” Pudgy accused poking his comrade in the chest. 

“I died with about 25 ounces of booze in my system, maybe it takes a lot more to get me?” Chugger said with a shrug. 

Pudgy’s eyes narrowed. “Lemme see that bottle.” 

“Suit yourself.” his buddy said tossing the bottle to the drunk ghost. The object slowly floated towards its target, like a butterfly on a hot summer day. 

His pencil thin mustache twitched as he eyed the rum. “I...I think I saw this symbol somewhere before!” 

Chugger did a double take. “You have? Where?!” 

“I uhh... (hic!) not sure. Somethin’ with the cigars I think? Maybe?” 

(So they probably come from the same source, huh... Unless Pudgy’s just stupid drunk.) 

Pudgy got a mischievous idea. A very mischievous and naughty idea! While Chugger was puffing away at his cigar trying to unravel his current mystery, lost in his own thoughts, the drunk ghost started pour a few drops of the alcohol into Rocco’s cup. 

“...Oops!” 

...but in his drunken state he accidentally poured about a cup of the stuff into the glass. 

“Pudgy what the fuck are you doing! We don’t even know how that shit works!” Chugger shouted while swiping the bottle from his inebriated companion. “What if we accidentally give him ghost powers?!” he yelled thumping Pudgy on top of his head. 

“That’s never happened before!” whined Pudgy. “Usually guys keel over dead when we do stuff, no powers or nothin’!” 

“What happened last time booze was involved?” 

“About twenty guys died.” 

“Guh?!” Chugger blurted out. “You..you fellas don’t play around do, ya?” 

“Why’re you talkin’ like you aren’t one of us, you big brute!” Pudgy grumbled rubbing his head. 

“R-right.” 

Rocco downed his entire glass. “I can drink as much as I fuckin’ want, Luca! Now deal the cards! I wanna see some more tits instead of your ugly face!” 

“Fine, if only so I can ignore your whining,” Luca said touching a scar on his cheek before angrily dealing out cards to the other goons.  “Hey, Franky! You still in? You don’t got much left to lose!” he smugly added. 

The portly thug touched his tank top. “I can bet this shirt, can’t I?” 

“What makes you think we’re willing to see you with your shirt off? Am I right Rocco?” Vinnie cackled. 

“Y-yeah...” Rocco stuttered, sweating profusely. 

(Aww hell, this is where the big bastard has a fuckin’ heart attack.) 

“So...uh, why we using these cards again?” 

“How else are we gonna play poker, Rocco?” Vinnie laughed. 

“I mean, these cards specifically. With the girls.” 

“Rocco, you “just” said you wanted to see tits!” Luca said confused. 

“I dunno. I’m just thinkin’ is all.” 

Pudgy and Chugger looked at each other. Mischievous grins spread across their faces. 

“Pudgy, you’re a genius!” Chugger yelled giving his friend a hug and a huge kiss. 

“I...I am?” he asked. 

“Nah, but I don’t wanna ruin the mood. We should try this on the other three lugs!” 

They poured some of the cursed rum into the other three cups, giggling like idiots the whole time. The cups bubbled and hissed a bit, the drinks colors changing to a muted aqua. 

The dumb bastards didn’t even notice. One by one they took a sip from their cups and continued prattling on about their game and “how much of a pansy” Rocco was being. 

...but they weren’t sweating like he was. They carried on like normal. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna take?” asked Pudgy. 

“No clue, we just figured out this booze does something other than taste good. Chugger grumbled. “I’m still new to being a ghost, let alone using this bottle for...whatever it does!” 

“Well when Blotto used his wine, everything happened like-” Pudgy added snapping his fingers. 

“Which one is he?” 

“The one with the beard and the whiskers sometimes.” 

“THAT ASSHOLE?!” Chugger shouted. “I’M NOT LETTIN’ HIM MAKE ME LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT!” The now angry ghost took his bottle and started pouring the rum into each of the glasses until the liquid was almost neon cyan. 

“Hey, Chugger...” Pudgy said tapping him on the shoulder once he’d finished corrupting each man’s drink. 

“Yeah?” 

“...did your hat always have brown polka-dots? 

Chugger pulled off his derby and examined it closely. If he was still alive the color would have drained from his face. His bowler hat was mostly brown at this point, and he had no idea what that meant. 

“I...I dunno, I didn’t really pay attention.” he lied. “Does it look different to you?” 

He let go of his hat and it snapped back to his head like a rubber band, causing him to spin backwards. 

“I don’t really look at guys hats, my eyes are usually a little...lower,” Pudgy said with a dopey grin. 

Chugger realized he was horny again, even more so than before, which he didn’t even think was possible. He tried remembering what he was making such a fuss about, but nothing came to mind except how turned on he was... and somehow...that didn’t bother him either. 

Everything was getting easier to accept, and it made him feel really really warm and bubbly. 

“Well, look this way!” he chuckled, waving his erect dick at Pudgy before guzzling from his rum bottle. 

(Should I be worried about how much I’m changin’?) 

Pudgy wagged a finger at his buddy. “Hey, you’re being pretty naughty!” Not to be outdone,  he started waving his dick around too. “ “Mine’s bigger!” he said sticking his tongue out. 

“It’s not the size that counts, it’s how you use it!” Chugger retorted. 

“Really? How’s this?” Pudgy made a loop with his thump and index finger and wrapped it around the base of his dick. As he pulled it away his dick came with it, leaving a smoky trail behind as he put it to his lips. 

“I definitely need to learn how to do that,” Chugger said trying to pull off his finger and failing. “Hey...where did they all go?” 

In their fun, they didn’t notice that aside from them, the room was empty. The drinks were knocked over and the cards haphazardly thrown everywhere. It looked like the room was ransacked! 

“Do you think it made em sick?” Pudgy asked scratching his chin. “I feel a little bad.” 

“Considering how they left me, I’d say that’s a little more than fair!” 

“Uhhhhhnnn...” 

“Ooooohhh....” 

“On second thought, maybe we should at least check on em. If they’re sick and moanin’ then that can’t be good. They could cause a scene and ruin the plan! Or...uh...die.” 

Chugger flew into the bathroom, half expecting to see a few dead bodies. A minute or so later he flew back out scratching his chin. 

“Everything okay?” Pudgy inquired. 

“Yep. Four guys fucking each other’s brains out, everything’s fine. 

“So, what’s next?” 

“Well, I was gonna make Mancini slap another don’s face at the banquet and ruin his credibility, but now I have a better idea...” 

The two specters laid low (or rather, didn’t fuck up any more drinks) upstairs until the banquet had begun. Stuffy looking older men and women shuffled through the doors of the building, some of them accompanied by intimidating goons. These ones most likely didn’t care if people knew their true business, or were that paranoid about being killed, even at an event like this. 

The perfect people to watch Mancini fall. 

(If we make a big enough impact, the rest of em might go into hiding, and the whole system will fall like dominoes.) 

A few of the other Bowler Hats arrived to help carry out the plan, and to Chugger’s relief, Blotto wasn’t among them. He’d never really even spoken to the guy before, but he was already tired of him. To Chugger, what he needed was a nice thick cock right in his mouth whenever he tried saying something. 

(Huh, wonder where that thought came from, I mean, I guess he is pretty sexy...) 

“Tiny, Slim, you made it!” Pudgy beamed. “I was worried Boss wasn’t gonna send you guys since this was a small job.” 

“Well, it “is” the new guy’s first one, he didn’t want him screwing anything up.” Slim smirked. “Plus, he wanted to go grab the reporters on his own, somethin’ about him knowing a guy.” 

Tiny just grunted. He did that a lot. 

“So, what are you guys gonna do?” Chugger asked a little skeptical of the duo. 

“Wait around until you need us, and make sure those goons keep fucking each other until they’re exhausted,” Slim said scratching his chin. Pudgy and Tiny, took the opportunity to start tonguing his ass and sucking his cock respectively, but he didn’t break his stride one bit. “We got our resident copper and priest down there swappin’ between bodies and holdin’ em in place as long as they can, but neither of them is very...” 

“Smart?” 

“Good under pressure,” Slim corrected.  “...But that too.” 

“I thought there’d be a little more backup...” Chugger said sheepishly, scratching his head. “I’m a little nervous taking down a mafia don if it’s just gonna be me and Pudgy.” 

Slim started counting on his fingers. “Well, we tried getting those ex-hired killers, but they were too busy fuckin’. Then we tried getting the winery ghosts...but they were too busy fuckin'. So we finally went to Romano’s old goons-” 

“And they were too busy fuckin’?” 

“No, actually they just didn’t care.” 

“Oh.” 

Slim patted Chugger on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, most of em only show up for a good smoke, drink, or fuck anyway. It takes a real Bowler Hat to do the hard jooooobs!” he explained before cumming into Tiny’s mouth. 

“Hoo! That felt good! Anyway, you got the best, bub. Don’t worry about it. Just keep him busy and everything’ll be fine.” 

With that, Tiny and Slim phased through the floor, leaving the dysfunctional duo to solve things on their own. 

No pressure though. 

Pudgy and Chugger sat in a pair of empty seats most likely meant for Mancini’s goons. Being ghosts who are invisible to anyone who hasn’t touched an object associated with one of their deaths, this was completely unnecessary and they could have flown around the banquet hall screaming their heads off without anyone noticing. Still, sometimes you just wanna sit down. 

For a ruthless, surly, kills-at-the-drop-of-a-hat hardass, Mancini’s banquet had a surprisingly large attendance. Aside from the four chairs left for his men, the rest were completely filled. Dozens of circular tables filled the spacious hall, all with an impressive floral centerpiece in the middle. One of the middle-aged women present was fiddling with the one in front of her, while her exasperated girlfriend grumbled at the prospective thief to not steal it. They already had twelve of them from the last twelve banquets Mancini held after all... 

Mancini stepped up to the podium on one end of the room. Not to be outdone by his guests, he was wearing a well tailored black suit with a purple vest and a rose boutonnière pinned to his chest. His mustache was neatly combed into a curl and his balding head was covered with a  black silk top hat. The outfit made his pink skin stand out even more than otherwise, making him look like a strawberry cream truffle. Right in front of his stage was a small table for three, seating him, his daughter, and Jack. 

“He always goes over the top for these things...” mumbled the woman messing with the centerpiece. 

“Dammit Mary, we don’t even use the other twelve put your hands down!” her girlfriend hissed. “As much as I like looking at your butt, everyone can see you bending over the table!” 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight is a very special night,” Mancini began. “With the completion of factory, we’ve reached the thirteenth building built by the Mancini construction company!” 

Of course, his audience clapped extremely hard. Not out of respect or admiration for his accomplishments, but because they were in a mafia don’s headquarters and in a way, at his mercy. 

The food was delicious at least. Mancini was a brute, but also an excellent host. 

“Recently our handyman has passed. From what I heard, he turned to the sauce after his gal left him, and hit his head! Such tragedy, even in our brightest moments...” 

“Is...is that fucker claiming I’m straight?” Chugger asked. 

“And a lush,” Pudgy added. 

“He doesn’t even have the balls to say I was with a man!” 

“And he’s saying you were a drunk, don’t forget that!” 

Chugger took a swig from his bottle. “Well he might not know it, but he’s right about that part. Want some?” 

“No thanks. I don’t usually drink on the job. When are we grabbing this guy anyway?” 

“I’m waiting for a good time in his speech.” 

“...and I believe that everyone in this building is in agreement with me, that we’re only gonna do greater things!” 

Pudgy turned to Chugger. “That work for you?” 

“Eh, sure why not.” he said shrugging his shoulders. 

The duo flew through the air into Mancini’s body, completely stopping him mid-sentence and leaving him staring out into his audience with his mouth agape 

The mafia don opened his eyes to an empty void, with nothing but a single light above him and a chair beneath his ass, which he couldn’t get out of. 

“Wha-what happened?!” the big brute asked no one in particular. 

The two spirits who captured him ascended from the floor, both with their arms crossed in an attempt to look intimidating. Considering they had bright purple skin, clown makeup and gloves, and tiny bowler hats, not to mention the constant erections...the attempt was less than effective. 

A for effort though. 

“Did you two clowns knock me out and tie me up? Someone is gonna come looking for me!” the mafia don shouted. 

“Ya know, when I hear some other guy call the Bowler Hats clowns it sounds really insulting,” Chugger said with a scowl. 

“Wait...I know that voice... Bruising my daughter’s reputation wasn’t enough, now you gotta dress like some kinda pervert clown and kidnap me?! Next time I’m telling Jimmy the Snake not to go easy on you with booze, you’re gettin’ pumped fulla lead!!!” 

“Hey Pudgy, how much would a gun do to me?” asked Chugger halfheartedly. 

“Uhh...far as I know a whole lotta nothin'.” the pencil mustached ghost replied scratching his chin. 

“That’s what I thought. That threat is empty old man!” 

“O-old? When Vinnie and Rocco find us, there won’t be enough of you to bury!” barked Mancini. 

“Sorry, but no one’s coming for you. You aren’t kidnapped, we’re in your head!” smirked Chugger wagging a finger. 

“W-what?!” 

“Yeah, more empty than “I” thought too...” 

“So, I’m still-” 

“In the banquet hall? Yep. I’m not sure how things work, but I’m pretty sure you’re staring into space right now. Your daughter is probably confused as hell.” 

The mafia don started sweating and shaking in his chair. “I-if you touch one hair on her head I swear I’ll-” 

“Relax. Unlike “you” I don’t hurt innocent people, and the only thing she’s guilty of is having bad taste in men.” 

Mancini’s mustache twitched. He didn’t fully understand the situation, but he grasped enough of it to realize he was in over his head. 

“If you wanna kill me, fine. I’ve been expecting it for years. When you’re in this business you gotta prepare to face the music at some point. At least this way I know I’m gonna get a Catholic funeral...” 

“Lord, do “all” you old dons like to hear yourself talk?” Boss snapped phasing through the floor with his four ghost henchmen in tow, making out and fucking each other. 

A smile crept onto the brute’s face. “I’d know that cocky bark anywhere! You’re one of Romano’s boys, aren’tcha? I knew that fucker wouldn’t leave me high and dry! What the hell is that old ugly bulldog son of a bitch doing these days?” Mancini chuckled mildly relieved. 

Boss only pointed upward, to which the don gulped in response. 

“Ah, may he rest in peace amen,” he whispered soberly, his brief belief that his connection to Romano would save him completely extinguished. 

“His goons won’t be giving us any trouble, but the reporters’ll be here in five minutes tops. Whatever you plan on doing with this guy’s brain you better do it quick,” Boss urged Chugger with a hand on his shoulder. 

“That’s all I need,” Chugger said with a smirk. “After he said I drank myself to death because a dame left me, I’m ready to scramble this guy’s egg good.” 

“I was doing you a favor!” protested the don. 

“A favor? You KILLED me!” shouted Chugger bewildered. 

“Only because I was told to!” 

“Y...you what?” 

“I was gonna run you outta town like I did with Father O’Brien, but he convinced me to kill you so no one would try that again!” 

“Who?!” 

“A telegram came from Romano asking for a favor...but he’s dead as a doornail so it musta been one of his men!” 

Chugger brushed Boss’s hand off his shoulder. “I thought you said you took out all of your old boss’s goons...” 

“If he’s left then it must have been him! He did it! He’s the one you want! Whatever you want to do to me you should do to- *GLURK*” 

Chugger had gotten tired of Mancini’s rambling and removed his cock and shoved it into the mafia don’s mouth. The dick thrust in and out, leaving the now wide eyed man was completely unable to speak! 

“Would you pipe down, we’re talkin’ here!” Chugger barked. 

“Oh! I knew you’d learn how to do that eventually!” beamed Pudgy. 

“Not now Pudgy!” the handyman snapped before turning to Boss. “Did you have me killed?” 

A mischievous grin spread on the spirit’s face. “What makes you think that?” 

The angry ghost started counting on his fingers. 

“One: For some reason you were there when I died. You admitted to watchin’ it.” 

“Two: Apparently everyone who joined the Bowler Hats after your first three members was killed by em in some way. Minus some assholes who were already ghosts.” 

“Three-” 

“Chugger...your hat... it’s-” 

“Not now, Pudgy!!! Three: Someone who knew Romano well enough to make a telegram that seemed to come from him AND sounded like him had this son of a bitch have me killed. And all of his men are out of commission.” 

The angry spirit was panting a bit now and his cheeks were flushed. “D-did you have me killed so I’d help you take down Mancini and his goons?” 

“GRRPH!” yelled the don through his improvised “gag”. 

Boss ran a finger down the handyman’s chest. “You’re cute when you get worked up. Is this you tryin’ to be a hero?” 

Chugger grabbed Boss’s arm tightly. “Naw, I’m no Speedy. I’m a big dumb mob goon.” He moved in until his face was touching his superior’s. “Do you know what this big dumb mob goon does to people who use him?” 

The spirit started making out with Boss and rubbing his dick with a free hand. 

“I’m so fucking horny right now...god damn you’re hot...” Chugger panted. 

“What about you accusing me of murder?” asked the other ghost smugly. 

“I don’t fuckin’ care anymore. Now please, plow my ass.” 

Boss sighed contentedly. “It took a little longer than usual, but I knew you’d come around eventually. Pudgy, go check on things outside, we got it covered here.” 

“His hat turned all the way brown, does that mean-” 

“Yep, he’s just like us now. Dunno why it took so long, but we’ll probably figure that out one of these days, not that it seems to be a problem. Right now we gotta make sure this guy and his syndicate gets ruined,” the ghost gangster replied pointing to Mancini.” 

Pudgy nodded and phased down into the floor, leaving the six horny spirits with their guest. 

“I guess this is gonna be a threesome!” Boss chuckled as he rubbed his cock head against Chugger’s asshole. “How good is the old man at sucking cock?” 

“Not too bad, I think he’s done this before!” he smirked. “Now don’t fuckin’ hold back!” 

Don’t gotta tell him twice! Boss started plowing Chugger’s ass as hard as he could, causing the ghost to let out loud grunts and moans. 

“T-that feels so fuckin’ good! Uhhhhnnnn...” Chugger groaned with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “I never...never got to do this before!” 

Boss took a drag on his cigar. “I’m your first, huh? Well, we’re gonna make sure you get all the cock you want big guy!” 

“T-thank you, Boss! I l-love getting fucked in the ass!” 

The gangster ghost leader whistled, and his henchmen stopped fucking each other. “Let’s give our newest member a real Bowler Hat welcome now that he’s embraced it!” 

The goons surrounded Chugger’s head, arranging their dicks in front of his mouth as he tried to fit them all in. The handyman’s eyes glazed over a bit as he let himself get lost in the pleasure. What was there to think about? Boss could do all the thinking for him, and Boss wanted him to be a big slut! 

A goon dressed like a cop grabbed Chugger’s bottle and poured the rum over all of their dicks, and the handyman eagerly sucked every last drop he could off the cocks with a dopey grin on his face. 

“This is the life!” he sighed, feeling Boss’s cum flood his ass and his filling Mancini’s throat. 

The mafia don felt the warm fluid enter his mouth and started blushing, either out of embarrassment or arousal. 

“So, Chugger, your moment has come,” Boss said pointing his cigar. “We can either give him a heart attack, and make him one of us, or you can figure something else out, if you’d prefer. 

Chugger stood up and took his rum back from the cop. Briefly he considered making Mancini a Bowler Hat like him, for a man in his fifties, the don looked pretty damn good. But...that would require killing him, and even though the Bowler Hat curse made him an incredibly horny idiot, it didn’t make him a murderer. He removed his dick from his captives mouth with an audible *glurk*. 

“Got anything you wanna say to change my mind?” Chugger asked Mancini. 

He spit on the ground in response. “Pansy!” 

Chugger’s dopey smile briefly faded, before coming back with a hint of malice. 

“Here’s something to wash that down with!” He growled, shoving the entire rum bottle down the don’s throat so far that it couldn’t be removed. 

“Boss, one of our boys says the reporters are at the front door and it’s ab-” Pudgy started phasing up through the floor before stopping when he saw Mancini. “Chugger...if we gave those guys a glass of this stuff...whats shoving a whole bottle down his throat gonna do?” 

“Let’s go find out!” the handyman chuckled. 

All of the ghosts exited the don’s mind to find that the banquet hall was in chaos. The once proud and calculating Mancini was jerking off and pinching his nipples on stage with his tongue lolling like a dogs. Guests ran away in droves (one of them with a centerpiece cradled under her arm), leaving noone but Jack and an extremely horrified Marjorie left in the room. 

Until the reporters burst in that is. most of their jaws just dropped at the spectacle, but one of them just cackled and took a picture. 

There was no way his reputation was gonna recover from this. 

“Do you miss your bottle?” Pudgy asked Chugger soothingly. 

“Not at all, in fact...” Chugger responded snapping his fingers, a rum bottle identical to the one he left in Mancini’s mind appeared in a plume of his cigar’s smoke. 

“You can do that?!” gasped Pudgy surprised. 

“I suppose I can! Hur hur!” the ghost laughed in a dopey way. “I guess this beauty is stayin’ with me forever!” he concluded rubbing it against his face. 

“Well, looks like it’s time to go,” Boss began. “Not how I woulda done it, but hey, I’m no handyman. Tinkering ain’t my job.” 

“Gimme a minute. I got one last thing I gotta do before we leave.” 

Jack woke up to a black void in all directions. The last thing he remembered was Antonio Mancini whacking his dick on stage like some kinda pervert. This had been one hell of a week! Was he dreaming? Was he...dead? 

If he was dead, this was a real letdown. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Chugger said floating up from the void below. 

Jack squinted. “D...Don? Is that you? Oh my god. What...what happened to you?” 

Chugger removed one of his arms and waved it in the air. “I died! Ain’t that a hoot? They poisoned me with some expensive booze and then I met an old cricket lady!” 

“You w-what?” 

“Uh huh, scared the shit outta me!” he said reattaching his limb. “Then I made a deal with a clown gangster guy and became just like him and his goons. We’re gonna fuck all day and night! Turns out I love getting my ass plowed, shoulda tried it sooner!” Chugger said showing his ex-lover his ass, still leaking Boss’s cum. 

“How...I...why?” the man struggled to find any words to even remotely describe how he was feeling at the moment. This was a lot to take in and it was really sudden. Not only was the handsome guy he met last week dead, but he was some kinda clown gangster ghost too? Was he...okay with that? It was kinda Jack’s fault it happened. 

“Don. I-I’m sorry that happened. I didn’t mean to getcha hurt.” 

“Don’t worry about it! The point is, pally, I’m not mad at you for getting me in trouble. Really!” 

“You aren’t? I’m so glad Don, I didn’t want you to hate-” 

“Ahh ahh ahh, I’m not done,” the ghost said wagging a finger. “One day, your hijinks are gonna get you in big trouble Jacky boy.” 

Chugger punctuated this statement by removing his head and juggling it, his bottle, and his cigar. 

“With Mancini out of the picture, no one can cover for ya anymore! No bodies to sweep under the rug, no one to run outta town! Eventually, you’re gonna piss off someone meaner and nastier than me. He’s probably gonna have you whacked so fast your head’ll spin!” 

Jack gulped loudly. 

“And when that happens...” Chugger began, reattaching his head and holding his cigar to the man he loved’s face. 

“I’ll be there, waitin’ for ya.”