"4.25 Stars!...One of the funniest books I have ever read. Who knew horror writer Rick R. Reed had such a delicious, wonderful, side-splitting sense of humor?...This is one of the most unusual, imaginative and refreshing books that I have read in a long time. Rick Reed is a master story-teller and he doesn't spare the details in this romp in the park as he recounts Rickie's adventure on the other side of the sheets. Man-Amorphosis is going to rock your socks and maybe other articles of clothing because this author does not skimp on the fun. Buy this book...it will more than tickle your funny bone."--Jessewave, Reviews By Jessewave

"...This is definitely a story of love gone wrong in more ways than one. I certainly wasn’t expecting this little gem when I picked the story up. Rick Reed is mainly a horror writer so I certainly wasn’t expecting to be laughing my head off. Told with a flair for the dramatic, I couldn’t help but love Rick...Man-Amorphosis...was an unexpected treasure and I look forward to more from Mr. Reed."--Hayley, Fallen Angel Reviews

"4.5 Stars!...Something I couldn't possible capture in a simple book review is the brilliance of the fast-paced humor and emotional undercurrent that accompanies this tale...This story is over the top in the best possible ways and I can just imagine Reed sitting at his desk writing away and chuckling to himself...I am a huge fan of Reed's writing and this is yet another story that surpassed all my expectations--not that I ever could have really known what was in store for me upon picking up this tale. I laughed out loud, I chuckled silently, I gasped at the unexpected turns, and I smiled at the message lying just beneath the surface. My only complaint is that it had to end, but it is the perfect size and shape for what it means to be, with just enough length and the right amount of girth to make for an exceptional org...er, read. No really."--Emily, Rainbow Reviews

But what was one of these things doing between my legs? How had it managed to get there? Where had what doctors referred to as a penis gone (you probably call it a dick, cock, wee wee, prostate poker, Johnson, prick, sausage, rod)? Albeit a moustache of sweat had formed on my upper lip, I couldn’t restrain myself from beginning to explore my lower lips. They had a silky smoothness, a not unpleasant bumpiness, an unevenness that appealed to my sense of aesthetic asymmetry. As I gently massaged them, I felt them unfold, like a small, fleshy flower. They sort of puffed up, which made me think how much money people like Melanie Griffith and Barbara Hershey could have saved on collagen if they could have mastered this trick on their upper lips. But I couldn’t be distracted by thoughts of movie star snatches when I suddenly found I had my own...