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.
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Recap; Pt 1-5 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...Major League Baseball player Chris Stone decides it's time to test the limits of how low his new "ball boy" is willing to go.... Thanks to Chris, it doesn't take long for Joe's roommate Kevin, to figure out that Joe is a queer. The torment from Chris continues, ordering him to join him for "breakfast". An unwitting Joe is coerced into serving up his mouth to Chris, the waiter and a host of horny blue-collar men.
Where we left off: "Now get on your knees and clean up this room. When you're done, we're even."
"With what?" Joe fell to his knees and looked around for cleaning materials but found none.
"With your tongue faggot." Hank grabbed Joe by the back the hair and shoved his face against the crusty urinal. "Lick it clean." He pushed hard and waited for Joe to begin lapping away at the dried piss on the rim. "Yeah. That's right...work for your breakfast queer." Hank watched in glee at the plight of the pitiful excuse for a man.
"And don't come out until it's squeaky clean!" Hank warned and exited the door. Picking up the teen's clothes, he walked back to the counter and dropped them in a pile on the floor. He retreated back to the grille area and looked at the cum coated pancakes. Hank scooped the stack up and placed them in a Styrofoam take-out box. He looked through the window at the men at the counter as he scribble "ballboy" on the box.
"Last guy in gives him his clothes back." He smiled at the men as they raised their mugs to toast their main man.
Ball Boy Part 6
Joe stumbled from the door of the diner, his eyes stinging from the harsh noon sun. He looked down at his watch. He had been naked and trapped in the men's room for over two hours. His felt his aching jaw. The chore of servicing cock after cock had taken its toll on him. At last count, six men had dumped their loads down his throat. They had used him like a whore, never letting him forget he was a faggot. The relentless verbal abuse shattered Joe's ego, his self-esteem. Each man had taken what they wanted from the fag present Chris had left them with. One after another they raped his mouth, plunging their fat angry cocks down his throat with no passion, no concern, just lust and an aching to abuse. To them, he was just a useless queer made that way to serve real men like themselves. Not one of the men said "thank you". Not one of them cared. As they left him on the floor, wallowing in their cum spray, they joined their buddies at the counter, never so much as acknowledging the humiliation they had meted out on the helpless teen. They got their nut off. That's all they cared.
Joe's mouth was dry and raw. His legs were sore and tight. Try as he did to clean himself before leaving, he still smelled like sperm. The odor had overtaken his body. There was no mistaking it. He let out a sigh and glanced at the take out box that Hank had handed him before pushing him out the door. He was starving. Joe opened the Styrofoam container, folded the pancakes in his hands and chomped down. From the window of the diner, the men inside rolled in hearty laughter. Joe had no idea that he was eating ol Hank's batter. Joe glanced back at the men pointing at him and laughing. He threw the box to the ground and began his walk to the bus stop. "Fuck them" he thought.
The bus stop was uneventful, short of a few condescending glances from other passengers. Joe's striking All-American looks were scarred by cum streaked hair. He hung his head in shame, never acknowledging the stares. Joe stared out the window as he listened to the taunts coming from a gathering of younger high school boys sitting across him.
"Hey queer..psst." they jeered him, grabbing their crotches in an obscene, adolescent way. Even at their young age - they knew jism when they saw it and took great glee and teasing the college jock. "We got some more for ya right here!" Joe pretended to ignore them, but their mockery stung him. Even the most innocent of kids could plainly see what he had become.
The walk back to the dorm was a sullen one for Joe. Returning to his room was not something that he now took lightly. Things with Kevin were becoming strange and awkward. He was no longer feeling sure footed around his bookish roommate. Opening the door to his room, he was relieved to discover that Kevin was not there. For now, he had escaped a potentially uncomfortable encounter. Joe walked through the living room to his bedroom. As he undressed, he spotted a note on his bed. Picking it up, he read the message from Kevin:
"Your friends are coming over tonight at 9:00, be ready - Kevin."
Joe read the note again and again, scratching his head in confusion. "What friends? Ready for what?" He put the note on his dresser and undressed stopping just long enough to inspect himself in Chris's jock strap once again. His image was lude and embarrassing. The jock was now yellowed, and stiff and rank. Joe pried them off, he had just enough time to take in a shower, change and be back at the park by 2:00, as Chris has commanded.
In the bathroom, Joe went to turn the water in the shower on, when he felt something slippery underfoot. He stepped back and stared down at the floor to discover a condom - a condom filled with cum! Bending down, Joe picked up the latex sheath and held it up. The rubber was overflowing with man-seed - Kevin's man-seed! Joe froze in place. His mind reeled. He fingered the spent rubber and felt the texture of his roommate's sperm within. He wondered silently if Kevin had intentionally left this. As Joe inspected it, his cock stirred. He hadn't jerked off since yesterday. The near memory of the morning's cock sucking marathon and the sight of his roommate's trapped sperm was too much for him. He could not ignore the fire churning his crotch. Sitting on the side of the tub, Joe pulled on his cock as he slurped on the open end of the condom. Licking hungrily at his roommate's slippery condom, he fisted himself maniacally. Joe felt his chest heave and his stomach muscles tense as he raised the rubber above his mouth and allowed the contents to slide onto his tongue like maple syrup. The taste of Kevin's cum was like nectar to him. He swallowed it greedily while his own cum blasted out in a feverish arc, splatting all over the tile floor below. While the white spots in his eyes subsided, Joe placed the condom on the sink and caught his breath. He might never have the chance to service his roommate, Joe mused, but at least he now knew what his jizz tasted like. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped in. Joe never spotted the blinking, tiny red light coming from the carefully concealed camcorder in Kevin's bedroom across the hall. His moment of lust had just been captured for posterity.
Freshly showered, Joe stepped back into Chris's jock and pondered what else to wear. He reached into his dresser and pulled out a pair of white mesh training shorts and slipped them on. If he was going to be chasing balls down on the field, he needed to be comfortable. Joe rifled through his myriad of T-Shirts and pulled out one that he was sure would make Chris proud; a replica of his #12 baseball shirt. He slid on the mock major league jersey, pulled his ballcap on and inspected himself in the mirror. He momentarily allowed himself to forget the bizarre circumstances of the past few days and took pride in his appearance. In spite of everything, Joe was proud of his body, proud of his performance on the field and knew that somehow, all the bullshit he had stumbled into could be put in his past. He would figure a way out of this.
Joe pulled on his athletic socks, slipped into his trainers and headed back out to the stadium, determined to prove his worth to his boyhood hero.
At the ballpark, Joe went to the player's entrance - all at once feeling very, very important. Entering through the gate, he was immediately approached by a large, imposing security guard.
"Where you think you're going kid??" He charged holding his arm outstretched, preventing Joe from moving further.
"I'm here to see Chris Stone." Joe replied with casual authority. "He's expecting me."
"What's your name?" the guard queried, flipping through a series of sheets on his clipboard.
"Joe Murphy." Joe replied, craning his neck over the security guard's shoulder.
"Nope. Not here." The guard snapped.
"But he told me to be here!" Joe charged, slight panic in his voice. "I'm supposed to chase balls during practice."
The security guard raised his eyebrow. "You're Ball Boy?"
"Yes sir." Joe fidgeted. "I am."
"I see..." The guard gave Joe a slow once over, inspecting him like a piece of meat. He knew the code word ball boy well. Players who exploited and used up their young fans had used the nickname for years. As Joe stood before him, nervously shuffling his feet, he felt both pity and disgust for the lad. His cock fattened in his uniform as he returned to his clipboard. "Here we go..." He paused. "Mr. Stone will be waiting for you in the trainer's office."
"Thanks!" Joe replied, taking leave from the entrance. The guard watched as the unwitting pup marched off to his fate.
Joe hustled through the quiet, cavernous corridors beneath the stadium stands until he reached the trainer's office. He knocked lightly on the door.
"Yes?" boomed Chris's voice from behind the door.
"It's me Chris, Joe." He trembled.
"I don't know any Joe."
"It's Ball Boy." Joe stammered, remembering his name.
"Get in here faggot." Chris commanded. Joe turned the knob and entered the room. Chris sat behind a large wooden desk, reading the sports section and chomping on an unlit cigar. He was shirtless. Joe soaked in the sight of the man's massive pecs, coated in a forest of fur. His cock stirred as he memorized Chris's quarter sized nipples.
"You're late queerboy!" he challenged.
"I'm sorry sir, the guard held me up."
"I don't give a shit." Chris put the paper down and stared at the college kid wearing his commemorative shirt. "Take that fucking shirt off you pussy!"
"Yes sir," Joe stammered, peeling off the #12 shirt. "I just thought..."
"Don't even try to think you worthless cocksucker." Chris mentally licked his lips at the sight of the young college stud. Joe stood nervously, not sure what he should do. "Now, take off the shorts." Joe removed his shorts and stood before his hero in just his jockstrap.
Chris leaned forward, stood up and walked to the other side of the desk. Joe's eyes opened wide to discover that Chris was also wearing nothing but a jockstrap! A noticeable bulge was obvious. Joe focused on the trailing curves and crevices that defined Chris's cock form inside the pouch. His own cock began to leak. Chris leaned against the desk, folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at Joe. The electricity between the sports legend and the teen was heady, intense.
"Now take off that jockstrap..." Chris's tone was commanding. Joe slid the supporter down and stepped out of it. Joe's hard cock sprang up, his precum draining in slivery strands to the floor below.
"Tell me what you really want ballboy." Chris demanded, then lowered his hand to rest on his jock mound.
"I, I want your cock sir." Joe replied, intoxicated by the sight in front of him. His cock bobbed and throbbed. His nuts were drawing tight.
"Tell me how bad." Chris growled and picked up Joe's shorts from the floor. Reaching back to the desk, he retrieved a pair of scissors and began slowly cutting the lining away.
"I want your cock bad sir..." Joe stared in wonder as Chris tossed the lining of his shorts into the trash can and began slicing the sides of his shorts up to the waistband. "I'll do anything you want."
"Anything? Chris chortled, amused at Joe's desperation. He held up Joe's modified shorts to the light and marveled out how transparent the mesh now was. He smiled at his handiwork.
"Yes sir."
"Get on your knees" he commanded. Joe fell without question into the position. Chris placed the shorts onto the desk behind him and picked up small brass tube. He fingered it slowly as he smiled down at Joe. "Are you a pussy?"
"Yes sir." Joe mumbled. He watched as Chris slid the top off the brass tube and immediately recognized it as lipstick. Joe froze as he watched Chris slowly turn the tube, exposing the bright red makeup stick.
"Don't you think you should look the part then?" Chris flashed an evil grin as he waved the lipstick in Joe's face.
"I'll look stupid!" Joe stammered.
"No. You'll look like a pussy." Chris chimed and grabbed Joe's chin firmly. "Just like a pussy..." he repeated and he began to apply the bright crimson lipstick to Joe's mouth. "There ya go." He smiled a wicked smile down at Joe.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Joe felt like he was going to cry.
"Because I can." Chris smiled as Joe pouted. The pathetic expression was even more hilarious now that his lips were garishly painted red. "Now come over here and kiss my jock."
Joe leaned forward and placed his lips in a kissing formation against his hero's hard jock bulge. Chris pulled his face tighter against him, his hand on the back of Joe's head and held Joe there.
"You want it?" he bellowed.
"yes sir" Joe whimpered, pulling his face away from Chris's jock. He stared at the lipstick mark he had just left - an obvious kiss mark.
"Good boy." He replied and took Joe's shorts from the table and handed them to the teen. "But first you're gonna have to earn it. Put your shorts back on Ballboy."
Joe stood and pulled the shorts back on. The lining now gone, the mesh was all but invisible. The newly formed slits up the sides allowed the material to drift liberally away from his lean body, concealing very little. Joe's hard cock tented the material obscenely. He stared down at himself in horror.
"C'mon, I want you to meet my buddies from Triple A." Chris purred, and grabbed Joe's wrist. Joe involuntarily followed Chris from the trainer's office into the adjoining clubhouse. As Chris walked into the locker room, with Joe in tow, the cadre of young minor league players looked up at admiringly their mentor. Chris mad no attempt to disguise the lipstick kiss placed squarely on his bulging jock. Joe could not conceal his obscenely painted lips.
"Gentlemen!" He boomed. "This is our ballboy for the afternoon. You will discover..." he paused for effect, "He is very good at handling balls..."
Joe hung his head in shame.
To be continued
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