Play Ball

 It was hot. That was the first thing that went through your mind as you stepped up to the plate, the metal bat slipping in your sweaty hands. But you weren’t just hot; you were nervous. Because this was your first time ever playing baseball—any sports for that matter.

The game was your friend Connor’s idea. He worked for a non-profit, and everyone at the office was pretty athletic, so why not hold a baseball game as a fundraiser? Not a bad idea, right? But unlike Connor and the rest of his work buddies, you’re about as far from athletic as a guy could get. So when Connor approached you about coming on Sunday to help out the team, your gut instinct was to stay on the bleachers.

But this was Connor. The same Connor who you crushed hard on through all of high school. The same Connor who lived with you Sophomore year of college, the same Connor you jacked off to all those times, ear pressed to the wall as he nailed some chick in the room next door. You wished it were you he was nailing… and you still did.

So there you found yourself, sweaty, hot, and totally lost as the pitcher stared you down from across the field. You could feel Connor’s eyes on your back, hear his encouraging calls from the stands: “YOU CAN DO IT MAN!”

You didn’t want to let him down. So when the ball started flying at you at lightning speed, you closed your eyes and swung.

“STRIKE ONE!”

At first, it felt like you threw your back out. Had you swung too hard? If not, then why was every inch of your body aching like all hell? Your sweaty shirt clung tight to your chest. This was not normal.

You tapped the plate, trying to remain cool. But you could feel your muscles practically erupting from your clothes. Judging eyes turning to those of lust, as the female co-workers from Connor’s job started whispering to themselves. It wasn’t just getting hot: YOU were getting hot.

As the pitcher wound up for another curveball, your tore off your sweat-soaking shirt. Literally tore, causing an audible gasp from the crowd. Even from Connor.

You blushed. The body you were once so keen on hiding away under layers of clothes was now wet and heaving for the entire world to see. It was embarrassing… and thrilling. You bounced your pecs—something you were never able to do before, as a cocky ego rose to match your thick, athletic body, a toothy smile to match your rippling back muscles and washboard abs.

You were too busy admiring the baseball-sized biceps now flexing instinctively on your arms to notice the actual baseball zoom past your face.

“STRIKE TWO!”

And that’s when things got out of hand. Because your body couldn’t stopgrowing. You felt the sweat gather on your brow as you felt your thunderous thighs brush up against each other, creating friction around your nether regions. You shivered as your butt cheeks grew tighter and tighter, your glutes expanding past what was considered a “normal” sized ass for an athlete.

As a matter of fact, you were beginning to look less and less like an athlete every second… unless the sport was go-go dancing. Your pecs were comically large, your feet ridiculously big, your arms absurdly thick.

But the worst part? You were getting INSANELY horny. Right in front of everyone you knew. You knew you should have been disgusted by your body, morphing and changing like you were being photoshopped in real time by a horny slut. But fuck did it turn you on…

You could feel the pants straining on both sides: in front, trying to contain your rock hard dick, now just as big and meaty as the rest of your hysterically hot body. In the back, your ass crack creeping out the top of your gym shorts, which were several sizes too small for those titanic jugs of jiggly flesh.

There was nothing you wanted more than to tear it off—just like your shirt. To let it all hang out in hard, sweaty glory for the whole team to see. For Connor to see. But there was a part of you, small as it was, that tried to keep composure as the pitcher reeled up for his final throw.

Focus… focus…

There was a loud CRACK as the bat made contact with the ball, sending it flying over the fence on the other side of the field. Somewhere in the background, the umpire was yelling “HOME RUN!” and the crowd was going nuts, but you didn’t hear any of it.

Because the final stage of your transformation had taken effect. Now, it wasn’t just your body chemistry that was changing: it was your brain chemistry. As you watched that ball zoom over the fence, you also felt the last bits of inhibition leave your mind—along with a fair share of logic. From then on, you weren’t hiding anything. Not your gayness, not your love for Connor, and certainly not that ass of yours.

Murmurs struck out amongst the crowd as the elastic of your shorts gave way and slipped down over your butt, coming to rest just beneath your trunk. But you didn’t mind. If anything, you relished in the attention. Especially from Connor, who’s eyes you could feel slipping from your back down to your crack.

You gave it a playful itch, sending him absolutely wild. You just couldn’t wait until the game ended and you could take him home and shove his face down there and let him go to town on your hungry hole. You couldn’t wait for him to fuck you silly like all those girls in college, grinding up against his hips and milking his cock with your big stripper ass.

And that’s exactly what you did. From that day on, things would never be the same for you and Connor. He would never know a day when he didn’t think about coming home to that delicious body of yours. But your changes were far more extreme. All you could think about now was showing off your “assets.” It might have gotten you kicked off the baseball team, but you’ve been making bank down at the local strip club.

Besides, sports was never really your thing anyway, right?