Date: Thu, 16 Jul 2020 11:56:24 -0700 From: Jason Ford Subject: The Deal, Ch. 18 The Deal By James Forbes Chapter 18 – The Fifth Sport This is a 19-chapter series of (partly) fiction created for the entertainment of interested adults, partly based on my experiences as a youth. Please read no further if you are underage, if this is illegal in your area, or if you are offended by explicit sexual stories. Names and locations have been changed. This would have taken place in the pre-AIDS era. The main focus is on physical and psychological domination, submission, various punishments and kink. If you enjoy this kind of story, please show your appreciation by making a donation to Nifty Archives. Go to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. And if you need a good sub in the San Diego area, or have comments on the story, contact me at jasbike1@gmail.com. The soccer team had put me through excruciating tests of badminton (really an electric racket), ping-pong paddles on my ass, pool balls up my ass, and a bowling ball hung from my balls. I didn't think I could take any more from the five boys. During the whole ordeal, Scott had been observing with clear satisfaction. I begged the team captain, Conrad, to stop the tests. "Since I failed all the tests for the other sports, I get to be on the soccer team, right? I've gone through enough." "There's one more sport. America's pastime! Come on, you know what it is, James." "Um, baseball? But I don't even want to be on that team." "But Scott is on that team! You like Scott, don't you?" Scott glared at me as if to say, "Be careful what you say." I replied, "Well, uh, sure, he's a good guy." I didn't say anything about the power he had over me, the nightmares I had about our encounters, and everything he'd made me endure over the last few years. The one team I didn't want to be on was baseball, precisely because he was on that team. That was why I wanted to be on the soccer team. To be one of the regular guys, but nowhere near Scott. The sex tortures he'd put me through were between me and him, and now his brother Danny and their neighbor Andrew. Well, now, half the soccer team. But I didn't want anyone else knowing what he'd made me do. The naked boys milled around me, waiting for Conrad to say what was next. "James, you have no choice in what's about to happen. I can't say you'll enjoy it, but we sure will." He went over to a stand of bats, which were stored vertically in a portable rack. He took all the bats out but one aluminum one. For a moment, I was terrified they would hit me with the bats. Conrad took the single bat and placed it on the center of the rack, the fat tip of it pointing to the ceiling. He began to grease it up. I realized what was about to happen. "Guys, pick him up." I struggled, but it was no use. Two boys grabbed my legs, two others picked me up under the arms and stood me next to the bat. "Don't worry, James, gravity will do all the work here. I marked inches on this bat with a Sharpie." I could see them all marked, 1 through 10. "Let's see how you do. Boys?" They easily lifted me up, two boys holding my legs up with my feet next to my face, the others with their hands in my armpits. They positioned me just above the tip of the greased bat, then began to slowly lower me down. "Oh god no, guys, not this, there's no fucking way," I pleaded hopelessly. The wide end of the bat pressed against my hole but was far too large to enter. Then Scott got up and walked over, put one hand on each of my ass cheeks, and spread them apart. The bat plunged in a few inches all at once. I gasped in pain. The team lifted me up an inch or so, then lowered me back down. Up, and down. I heard them call out numbers. "Three inches! Two. Four, two, five, four, six, still six, now oh my god eight, six, eight, six, NINE..." I started to moan. For several minutes, they made a game of lifting me nearly all the way up, then plunging me down like a perverted carnival ride. "Wow, that was awesome!" Conrad said to the team. "Let's get him off of that now. I think he's had enough." They set me down on my feet, which collapsed out from under me. I lay on the floor, a sweaty mess. One of the team, Jimmy, looked at my ass. "Hey guys! His hole is actually pulsing. Look!" They all flipped me over on my stomach and spread my legs. Conrad commented, "Well, you know, we haven't tested him for the team he said he wanted to join: soccer. Thing is, all we have are soccer balls for that team. Except, hmmm, when we run dribbling drills, we use these—" he went to the cabinets of the equipment room, and took out two orange traffic cones. "I think these will work just fine. Flip him on his back and pull his legs up, guys." Two boys flipped me over and held my legs up, and two others pinned my arms to the cold concrete floor. Conrad quickly greased one of the cones. "This will be awesome," he declared. After the bat, the cone easily went into my asshole, spreading it wide. "James, push your legs together to hold the cone steady." "Now what?" someone from the team asked Conrad. "Well I don't know about you guys, but I have to piss." The naked team members began chiming in. "Me too! Fuck yeah, let's see if this works...what if he fills up?" Conrad considered the last comment. "We'll figure out something..." One by one they walked up and traded off holding my arms down, and my legs up, each one pissing a hot stream into the cone. I could feel the liquid beginning to fill my ass, gurgling down the cone, and the smell nauseated me. "That's it. No more is going in," Conrad said. Thank god, I thought. This was finally over. But then Scott walked up and grabbed the other cone. Scott walked over to my face, twirling the cone around in his hands. "I haven't pissed yet, and I've been saving it for hours. Prisoner, open your mouth." Someone from the team laughed. "Scotty, I can't believe you call him that and he lets you. You're not really going to do this, are you?" Scott didn't answer. He forced the cone into my mouth. "Bite it," he ordered. He undid his pants and pulled out his perfect dick. I loved seeing it, dreamed of it, but not like this. Not in front of anyone, and not when he was about to obviously do. A wide yellow stream gushed from him, right into the cone, hitting the back of my throat like a waterfall. I coughed and sputtered but knew I had to swallow it all or face something far worse. At last he shook off his cock and zipped up. The cone fell from my mouth, and the team pulled the other cone out of my ass. "Guys," Conrad said, "Carry him to the bathroom. He needs to empty out so we can send him home."