Part 1 

Reps were important. Ryan knew that he had to maintain top form to achieve the professional athletic career he desired. He worked out six days a week, with weights and machines. He worked on strength and endurance. Ryan usually ended his routine with the most important machine of all. The one that would determine how well he'd perform in the most critical moments. Before stepping in, Ryan took off all his clothes. Then he stood under something that looked like a shower head and pulled a lever. A sticky lubricant poured out and covered his body. He smeared the fluid up and down his body, careful not to leave a spot where friction could impede his workout.

Ryan then climbed into a harness, attached to what he would call a rope, although a woman would probably call it a string. Ryan signaled a spotter. and the harness lifted up, taking him into the air. Then it hovered just above an opening as big as he was, that resembled a slit with lips. The mechanism lowered Ryan feet first into the opening, which was moistened by the same liquid covering Ryan's body. Ryan pressed a button, and the harness popped off his body, before being pulled away.

Slick, pulsing surfaces within the opening began to tug on Ryan, pulling his legs inside. Ryan imagined the feeling as similar to standing in quicksand. He reached out to a spherical object mounted at the crease of the lips, petting and caressing it.

Inside the opening, the surface pulsed more quickly, seizing Ryan and dragging him farther in. The athlete embraced the spherical object with a final hug and kiss before disappearing into the machine with a slurp. Ryan was now trapped in stickiness, heat and darkness, with only a limited supply of air. He felt in the darkness for the one thing that could free him.

At last he found it. A rough patch along the slick wall, which he caressed softly, the strokes coming faster and with slightly more pressure. He was trying to make the move that would free him from his slick prison. Ryan hadn't been able to pull it off before despite two tries in the sleeve. Third time, he hoped, would be the charm. The minutes passed, and Ryan's air supply began to run out. At last, his coaxing succeeded. A mighty squeeze pushed him out of the sleeve.

Coughing and gasping, he grabbed the harness and put it on. The device lifted him away from the faux-vagina, carrying him across the gigantic room at the university, back to the men's weight area, a space of about 50 square feet in the corner. Plenty of room for weights and machines, when the people using them are normally about six inches tall. Ryan hopped into his shorts and a T-shirt.

A dildo scooted up to Ryan and leaned against his back, giving him a buzz.. the closest possible thing to a pat on the back from a piece of plastic. "Good job, Ryan", the dildo hummed through a synthesized voice. "Thanks, Coach Butterfly," Ryan replied. 

Coach Butterfly was hardly atypical. More than half of men's sport coaches at universities now were dildos, vibrators or some sort of non-human sex toy. After the Goddess of Love revealed (to men only) that dildos were actually sentient beings, housing the souls of men who had wronged women in their previous lives and needed to atone for their caddishness, it was realized that they had a lot to teach men who had been reduced in size by the Rebalancing of Sexes, and those like Ryan, who were born small.

"Just keep working on your G-spot plays, and you stand a good shot at winning the Men's Pussy-Swimming Title, " Butterfly hummed.

The Pussy-Swimming title was one of three components of the Men's National Championship Triathlon, the other two being Pussy Gymnastics and Full-Body Gymnastics, in which a man sought to engage a woman's lips, face, neck, nipples, breasts and anus... actually now the back-vagina... in addition to the front-vagina.Outside the room, various female athletes were practicing and warming up. More than 90 percent of the space in the athletic department now belonged to women; a sensible ratio, given the size difference. Most wore a sports bra on top and nothing underneath, being the first generation to grow up without the fear of being assaulted by a man. 

A door, gigantic to Ryan and his dildo coach, opened. A female gymnast, about 5'3" with long, black hair and  a curvy figure, walked in. A black top was her only article of clothing. She walked over to a min-fridge that was three stories tall to Ryan and bent over to look for something. Ryan couldn't ignore the ass, each cheek the side of his bed, and the cleft in between, into which he could snugly fit, and the labia enclosed by a pucker that were just the right size for his perpetually erect, half-inch-long manhood.

The young woman teased Ryan as she shuffled through the fridge's contents, looking for a water bottle."You know, nothing in the rules says you HAVE to sign a contract to service a rich MILF. My booty is just as bodacious as any woman in her thirties, and much tighter. I'm three years older than you are, so I'll be able to give birth to boys in six or seven years. In the meantime, we could make a daughter or two!"

Ryan smiled. "Thanks, Zoe. I'll keep your offer in mind."

"You DO that," Zoe replied. Water bottle in hand, she squatted down in front of Ryan and spread her legs, exposing her labiae. "This may not be a ten million dollar house, but it's all the home you'll ever need."

Ryan watched as Zoe leapt up, and legs five times his height carried that bodacious ass away. 

"Eyes on the prize, young man!" Coach Butterfly buzzed at Ryan.

There was a strong incentive to win the triathlon. The winner could definitely write his own ticket, as much as any man could in the post-ROS world. Millions of women watched the championships hungrily, imagining the perfect man to scratch their heightened sexual itches. Those who had money attended in person, and the wealthiest took part in the bidding for the top finishers.

Ryan knew a winner could command a contract worth $10 million or more, to serve a wealthy and powerful woman. That woman was usually on the high side of 30. It was a source of frustration for many younger women, as money and the second fertility had reduced the advantage of youth.

Some women Zoe's age found themselves signing up for "apprenticeships" with women over 30, in the hopes of sharing a high-quality male.Of course I'd like to fuck her, Ryan thought. I might like to spend my whole life with her. If we both lived before the Rebalancing of Sexes. The Goddess of Love had, by reducing men and increasing women's sex drive, objectified males as thoroughly as women had been objectified in times past.

Ryan knew the only way to make enough money to help out his mom was to find a woman wealthy enough to make him rich... just as she had lifted herself out of poverty by finding a man with money, before the Rebalancing of Sexes radically altered family finances. 

And then there was the way the Goddess messed with male lust to make them want the women who could give them teeny-tiny sons. ("Speeding up evolution," she called it.) The desire for a 35- or 40-year-old milf with a big ass was as strong in Ryan as the desire for his college age-mates. Maybe stronger. 

So Ryan kept his focus on winning the Triathlon.