Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2001 19:24:37 -0400
From: Joes head2 <joeshead2@hotmail.com>
Subject: Ball Boy Pt 2

The following story is entirely fiction; any resemblance to persons living
or dead is strictly coincidental. This story contains descriptions of sex
between consenting, adult males. If such material is prohibited in your
jurisdiction, if you are under legal age, or if you are offended by such
material DO NOT READ IT. The author retains all rights to this work and you
may not copy or transmit it in any way except in it's entirety and with this
disclaimer.

Comments appreciated!

Recap; Pt 1
College Jock Joe has a chance encounter with the sports hero of his jack off
fantasies during a volunteer outing at the ballpark. Things go terribly
wrong for Joe when his hero catches him masturbating in the clubhouse...

Where we left off:
As I picked up the equipment, he trotted out onto the field. I listened to
the roar of adulation that he generated from those gathered for the event.
For a fleeting moment, I realized what I had reduced myself to. Trembling, I
stood and tried to collect my wits. Cum drooled from my face, and also from
my shorts. There was no mistaking it for anything else. A surge of terror
washed through me. I would have to walk back out onto that field, face my
classmates, my coach and all the event coordinators. Chris Stone had marked
me. I was his ball boy and he wanted everyone to know it.


Part 2

Walking out onto the field, Joe's head hung low. He spied Chris Stone
standing in the circle of counselors. Chris looked up at him and flashed a
big toothy grin. Joe looked down, deeply embarrassed over the recent turn of
events. As he deposited the equipment near the on deck circle, he felt his
heart pounding.  The telltale signs of sperm were now even more noticeable
in the gleaming sun. He could feel the goo beginning to form a crusty veneer
on his chin.

"Hey Joe!" Sean Clark trotted over to Joe. "This is awesome eh?" Sean was a
relief pitcher on Joe's team. A natural athlete, he was tall and as handsome
as they come. Joe instinctively turned away from him, crouched and began
sorting the equipment on the field. Sean was a wise guy, known for his
sarcasm and practical jokes. In every locker room there was one guy that
snapped wet towels and bragged about his sexual conquests in the shower.
Sean was that guy.

"Yeah, awesome..." Joe's voice trailed. This day would be anything but
awesome. He watched the shadow as Sean drew closer. Joe's head was pointed
at the ground.

"No shit huh - Donny Myers and Chris Stone are both here - you get to meet
em yet?" Sean bent down to help his teammate. Reaching to help sort the
equipment he got his first up-close look at Joe. He stared in disbelief.
"Dude..." his voice trailed..."what's up with you?"

Joe looked away in shame. He could feel Sean's stare. It would be a defining
moment - the beginning of his life filled with deceit and dishonor.

"Rough morning" Joe blurted, barely above a whisper. Sean leaned back
instinctively, then stood up.

"Whatever dude."  Sean's voice carried a tone of disgust as he walked away.
Joe watched from the corner of his eye as Sean joined his other teammates on
the infield. Though he couldn't hear what they were saying, he could feel
the burn of their eyes as each one looked over at his direction.

The remainder of the afternoon, Joe was confronted with expressions of
surprise, disgust or bewilderment. Most humiliating were the giggles from
the ranks of the handicapped kids - even they recognized his obscene pecker
tracks and found his predicament highly amusing. Try as he might, it was
impossible for him to escape the embarrassment of the circumstances. Here he
was, a college student, seemingly at the top of his game, being made to
display the semen of his boyhood sports hero.

Chris took great delight in watching Joe's humility. After a short while,
Chris pulled Joe's coach aside and as they talked, the coach glanced over at
Joe and nodded.

"Joe, were gonna run some batting drills with the kids." The coach stared at
him hard. "Chris Stone is gonna help them at the plate. You're gonna be the
ball boy for him." Joe looked up at the coach in disbelief, then over at
Chris. He stood near home plate; his bat tucked into his crotch, pushing at
his bulge obscenely. He flashed a wicked grin at Joe.

"But coach, I thought I would get to pitch today..." Joe pleaded.

"Sean's gonna take the mound today." He cut Joe off mid sentence. There
would be no more discussion.

And so it went. As his teammates took all the glory out on the field with
the big leaguers, Joe hung back and chased foul balls behind the plate. Each
time a ball would run stray, Chris would bellow "Ball boy - earn your keep!"
And each time he would say it, another round of humiliating laughter would
spill from everyone in attendance. By the end of the afternoon, nearly
everyone had begun to call Joe "ball boy".

As the days events closed, Joe was asked to return the equipment to the
locker room while Sean won the honor of staying on the field and pitching to
the major league players. Hurt and stung by the obvious slight, Joe carried
out the request. Coming from the clubhouse on his last trip to the equipment
room, the players were piling in from the field. He stepped aside as they
all barreled by him, everyone but Chris.

As he reached the dugout, he caught Chris sitting on the bench, his beefy
thighs spread wide. Joe looked at him for some sign; any sign but instead,
he found only contempt washed over Chris' face.

"I think you forgot a few balls..." he growled as he lowered his giant hand
to his crotch and smiled. Joe's eyes widened as he watched his hero
massaging his package. Chris cocked his head, nodding to Joe to come closer.
Joe quickly scanned the park. The stadium was empty, everyone had left. He
edged closer to Chris and stood in front him quietly. Chris reached his
fingers up inside his shorts and began fingering his manhood. "What are you
waiting for queerboy? An invitation??"

"Hhhere?" Joe stammered... but eased closer to Chris, now between his
massive, hairy thighs. Chris looked up at him and stared but said nothing.
Joe began to feel his cock harden as he watched Chris tug the head of his
cock out from the leg of his shorts. His eyes remained locked on Chris as he
dropped to his knees subserviently. Chris clamped his thighs tight around
Joe, pinning his arms to his side.

"On the field you fuckin pussy" he chortled and pointed to the field. He
tucked his cock back into his shorts. Chris looked at him hard. "Get your
faggot ass out there and collect." Joe looked to the outfield, and saw it
spotted with easily a 100 or so baseballs. Chris released his grip on Joe
and then without warning, spit in Joe's face. A thick, mucous filled hawker
drooled from Joe's forehead and cheeks. Despite all logic and reason, Joe's
cock only throbbed more.

"Yes sir." He spoke softly. He stood in front of Chris, his cock tenting his
training shorts obscenely. Chris grinned. There was no question now that Joe
had completely surrendered to this man, his hero.

"And when you're done putting the balls back, here's what I want you to do."
His hand never left his crotch. "I want you to go into the head, go to the
last stall on the end and write on the wall; I suck ballplayer cock, then
add your phone number."

"I can't do that sir!" Joe gasped. His eyes widened. "I I, have a roommate!"

"Fuck you're roommate. That's your problem. If you ever want to see this
piece of equipment again, You will do it." Chris grabbed his fat cock
through his shorts and sneered at Joe. "You got that faggot?"

"Yes sir."

"You'll find a little surprise in the equipment room when you're done. Now
get your sorry queer ass out there and do something useful." He gestured
with his hand to the field. Joe hopped up the steps and began to trot out
onto the field with the ball bag. What had happened to him??

Joe spent the better part of a half-hour retrieving the stray balls from all
over the field. He felt defeated and drained as he wrestled with the events
that had transpired during the day. As he picked up the last ball from deep
left field, he turned and walked the long stretch back to the dugout. He
slowly walked the tunnel from to the clubhouse easing his way as he listened
intently for sounds. The bowels of the stadium were silent except for the
scuffle of his sneakers.

He entered the clubhouse. The locker room was empty and still. He carried
the heavy mesh ball bag back to the equipment room. Approaching the door, he
spied a jockstrap, dangling from the doorknob. His heart pounded as he drew
closer to it. He unhooked the pouch and inspected it. Tucked inside the
sweaty pouch were a permanent marker and a note.

"This is your new uniform ballboy. You will not wash it and you will wear it
always." He removed the marker, folded the note and tucked it into his
shorts. Joe stared at the pouch closely. It was heavily soiled, patches of
dried cum and piss had created obscene and crusty markings. In the center of
the pouch was a fresh puddle of cum. The intersection of the pouch and
straps showed telltale signs of skidmarks. Joe brought the pouch to his face
and inhaled deeply. Withdrawing it slowly he noticed scribbled writing on
the back of the wide elastic band. It read "Property of Chris Stone".

He stared at the musty jockstrap of his hero, his master. He wanted to cry.
He wanted to run. Instead, he uncapped the magic marker and walked slowly to
the last stall in the bathroom.

To be continued