*** Mad Dog On A Mission *** Chapter 3 ***
This story is a totally imaginary fantasy about professional basketball players. Nothing in this story should be taken as any indication of the actual sexual orientation or behaviors of any of the players.
Hope you enjoy! Comments welcome at zippyqueer@hotmail.com.
-Zippy Queer
After his fun weekend in Vegas with fellow Los Angeles Laker Rick Fox, Mark Madsen couldn't wait to give Coach Phil Jackson the results of Rick's personal inventory. Heading into Coach's office, Mark held out the completed form and said, "Two down, Coach!"
Coach Jackson laughed at Mark's enthusiastic attitude about his personal inventory project, designed to give him special insight into the inner minds of his players. "So, you've done Kobe and Rick," Coach said. "Who's next up?"
"Well, coach, I think it's time for me to talk to Shaq. I figure he might be the toughest nut to crack," Mark said. Coach smiled at Mark's unintentional double entendre.
"Yeah, he'll be a hard one," Coach agreed. "Here, take a new set of blank forms. You going to have some time to talk with Shaq this week?"
"Yep!" Mark answered happily. "He wants to practice his inside defense, and I'm the sucker who always volunteers to get whomped by the big guy. I'm heading over to his place late tonight. He's seeing one of his kids this afternoon. I told him about the inventory, and he seemed cool with it."
"Great, Mark," Coach said. "Best of luck. You know how much I appreciate all your work, Mark."
Mark blushed at Coach's praise, then said, "No prob, coach," and headed out.
Around 8:30 that night, Mark pulled on a red Stanford tank top and some black sweat shorts, then set out to drive to Shaq's place. He hoped Shaq would be OK with the survey stuff. Mark could hold his own against Kobe or Rick, but Shaq could probably knock Mark out cold if he didn't like what Mark was asking. But Mark knew that the big guy had a soft spot for him, as did all the other players.
By the time Mark turned onto the private lane leading up to Shaq's estate in the hills north of L.A., the sun had set, and Mark wondered if Shaq had a court with lighting where they could practice. He had toured the inside of Shaq's place once and was really impressed with how nicely maintained it was. Probably due to the tireless work of his housekeeper, Mrs. Toliver, Mark thought. Mark loved talking with Mrs. Toliver, a 60-ish widow with graying hair who reminded Mark of his own mother. He knew that Mrs. Toliver played a mother-type role for Shaq, keeping his house and affairs in order and providing encouragement when the big guy grew disillusioned or frustrated.
So, Mark was happy to see Mrs. Toliver open the front door before he even had a chance to ring the bell. Mark gave her a big hug, which made her giggle. She led him back to the kitchen, where Shaq was about to bite into a slice of pizza.
"Now just wait a minute," Mrs. Toliver scolded Shaq. "Your company has arrived, and I'm sure he would like some pizza too."
"Sorry, Mrs. T," Shaq apologized with a smile. "Hey there Dog, have a chair. How you been?" Mark sat and had some pizza while they chatted, with Mrs. Toliver piping in now and again while she cleaned up the kitchen. Mark noticed that Shaq had also put on a Stanford tank top, which Mark had given him as a birthday gift. Even though it was size XXXXXL, it was still a little tight on the big man, and his powerful chest was clearly outlined under the fabric. Mark really liked the fact that Shaq had remembered to wear the Stanford shirt tonight. The big guy could be pretty considerate from time to time.
"OK, Dog," Shaq said to Mark a few minutes later, "let's hit the court. You give me a half-hour to get you all bruised up, then afterward you can do your survey or whatever."
"Sounds great, Shaq," Mark said, following Shaq out the door. They walked past a flower garden, then down a curving path by some blackberry bushes, when they finally reached a gorgeous, brand-new, full-size outdoor basketball court, complete with bright lights and a rack with a dozen balls. Mark thought the court had a really special feeling, totally isolated from the rest of the estate, very private, a little bit romantic.
They played for a while, working up a sweat after a few minutes of jumping and bumping. Mark had been a Laker for two seasons, and he still was in awe of Shaq. This gigantic man, this big black Hercules, his deep ebony skin glistening in the lights, sweat pouring off his face, chest, arms, legs—everywhere. Mark was a big guy, too, but still a good six inches shorter and forty or fifty pounds lighter than Shaq. Mark thought it was really cool to play one-on-one with Shaq, since it was basically the only time he played somebody bigger than himself. Their gigantic hip muscles collided with tremendous force, over and over. Shaq's sweat dripped all over Mark's head and shirt, like always.
After 45 minutes, they stopped for a quick drink of water. Shaq peeled off his Stanford shirt, which by now was ripped at the seams on both sides from all the hard contact. His huge bare torso was truly impressive, as was his flat, muscular stomach. Sweat had soaked through most of his shorts, and his soft dick was clearly outlined through the wet material. "You're getting better, Dog," Shaq said. "Still just a little guy, though," he teased.
Mark scowled and said, "Oh yeah? Let's go one more round." Mark pulled off his own shirt and pulled Shaq back onto the court. The two big studs played hard for another 20 minutes, then decided to call it a game. They headed back toward the house, talking all the way, making jokes about the other players on the team, having a good time.
As the two sweaty, shirtless hunks approached the house, Mrs. Toliver gave them a disapproving frown. "You two should really keep your clothes on. With this breeze, you're both bound to get chilled to the bone and develop some nasty bug."
"Sorry, Mrs. Toliver," Mark said.
"You sure like to nag, Mrs. T," Shaq teased.
"Well, someone's got to watch out for the well-being of you crazy young men. Now I want you both to get right into the house and wash all that sweat off." She gave them a stern look, and right away they both headed into the house. Before they could get past the living room to head for the showers, Mrs. T hollered, "Stop right there! I won't have your sweaty clothes stinking up the house. Give me those shirts." Mark and Shaq handed her the shirts they had been carrying.
"Now the shoes and socks," she ordered. Shaq moaned in mock exasperation, but Mrs. T. gave him a light slap on the cheek and said, "Do as you're told, young man." Soon their shoes and smelly socks made their way into Mrs. T's laundry basket.
"Can we go shower now, Mrs. T?" Shaq asked.
"Off with the shorts!" she commanded. Mark looked very embarrassed by this. Shaq, however, peeled off his workout shorts without hesitation, revealing a soaking wet purple jock strap.
"Come on, Dog, you afraid Mrs. T will take a picture of your crotch?" Shaq handed his shorts to Mrs. T, then slowly turned around, bent over, and gave them a nice look at his huge, muscular ass as he slid out of his jock strap. Turning back around, Shaq revealed his soft cock, big and meaty. He tossed the jock to Mrs. T. Mark noticed that she didn't even blink—she must be used to seeing Shaq naked. Kind of a weird arrangement these two have, Mark thought.
Mark wasn't comfortable getting naked in front of the housekeeper, but Shaq didn't give him any choice in the matter. Shaq reached over and pulled down Mark's shorts and jock before he could protest any further. Handing Mark's stuff to Mrs. T, Shaq said, "There you go. Not so bad." Mark's face turned beet red, and he tried his best to cover his crotch with his hands.
Mrs. T, though, didn't seem interested in looking at Mark's body. She turned tail and headed for the laundry room in the basement. As she left, she told the guys that she would bring clothes to them in the bathroom in about ten minutes.
Shaq put his arm over Mark's shoulder and led him through the huge house, passing through room after room, some with big picture windows that exposed their naked bodies to anyone who might be peeking in. Luckily, Mark didn't see any peeping Toms along the way. He was surprised at how comfortable Shaq was with walking around the house naked.
Although the house had six full bathrooms, and Mark could have used any of them to shower, Shaq guided him into his own personal bathroom. They had to walk through Shaq's bedroom to get there. Mark noticed that Shaq's bedroom ceiling was covered with mirrors. Shaq's bed was amazingly large, far bigger than a king-size, probably custom-made, Mark figured. The bedroom walls were covered with ebony paneling, leading to thick charcoal-colored carpet. The bedspread was black, with an intricate charcoal pattern.
In the bathroom, Shaq told Mark to shower first. They continued to joke back and forth about different things while Mark got cleaned up. Shaq tossed Mark a towel, then took his place under the spray. Before long, the two hunks were clean and dry. They looked in the bedroom for the clothes that Mrs. T had promised, but nothing was there. Shaq buzzed the intercom and asked Mrs. T to bring their clothes. She said she would be right up. Mark and Shaq waited around in their towels.
"So, what's this survey all about?" Shaq asked.
"Well, Phil wants to know a whole bunch of things about you. Some of them are a little embarrassing. I guess he figured you'd be more comfortable talking to me than directly to him about that kind of stuff."
"Whatever," Shaq said. "Hey Mrs. T," he said as she appeared at the door empty-handed, "where's our shit?"
"Shaquille, you know I don't like to hear that vile language. Now give me your towels." Shaq and Mark both grunted in protest, but they really didn't mind giving her the towels, even though they were now naked in front of her again. "I'll take these down to the laundry, then bring up your fresh clothes in a few minutes."
"I guess we got no choice," Shaq said as Mrs. T headed out. "She's a strange bitch, but she keeps my life in order. You know, she picks out my clothes every day. And she packs my bags for road trips."
"Really?" Mark asked.
"Oh yeah. Makes things simple for me. That's why I pay her the big bucks," Shaq said. "Hey, since we're waiting, how about we do your survey in the Jacuzzi?"
"Sounds good," Mark said. "I'll need to get my clipboard and stuff from the living room." He ran through the house, his meaty dick flailing back and forth. Returning, he found Shaq already in the Jacuzzi. It wasn't the typical round Jacuzzi—it was a rectangle, about three feet wide and six feet across, with a seat on each end. Mark climbed in, bumping Shaq's legs. When he was settled in the bubbling hot water, he noticed that his knees and calves were touching Shaq's. "Pretty tight fit," Mark said. "You need a bigger one."
"No, I like it nice and tight," Shaq said with a mischievous grin.
Mark laughed and said, "Whatever, man." He turned to his right to read off the clipboard. "OK, the first section is some general questions, where you answer on a scale of one to ten. Ready?" Shaq nodded, so Mark read the first question. "Number 1: How would you rate your personal happiness, 1 to 10, 10 being happiest?"
Shaq thought for a moment, then said, "Nine."
Mark wrote down this answer on the form, then said, "All right. Number 2: How close are you to reaching your full potential as a basketball player? 1 to 10, 1 meaning you have a very long way to go, 10 meaning you can't possibly get any better than you are now."
Shaq stretched his arms out to the sides of the tub, showing off his powerful shoulders and triceps. "Eight." Mark noticed that Shaq, unlike Kobe Bryant and Rick Fox, kept his answers short, not providing much in the way of explanation. Typical of Shaq, Mark thought—not a big talker. He lets his body do the talking.
"OK," Mark continued. "Number three: How would you rate your physical development, the overall condition of your body, as compared to the other players in the NBA? 1 to 10, 10 being the best in the league."
Shaq sat quietly for a moment, then slowly stood up in the Jacuzzi. His tremendously huge body faced Mark, his long, thick, soft dick only about a foot from Mark's face. Mark looked him up and down and was truly impressed. What a magnificent body! Like Hercules, only taller.
"Tell you what," Mark told Shaq, "I'll just write in a 10 for that one. Now, let's move on to the next section. This is about the individual parts of your body. I'll ask you how you feel about a part of your body, then while you think of your answer, I'll measure that part of your body." Shaq continued to stand impassively, right in front of Mark, so Mark decided to just keep going.
"The first thing is your face," Mark said, looking up at Shaq. "I'm going to take measurements, and you decide how to rate your face, 1 to 10." Mark then awkwardly stood up to face Shaq. Their naked, wet bodies were just inches apart as Mark reached up and held the measuring tape up to Shaq's face. He took the horizontal and vertical measurements of Shaq's face, plus the dimensions of his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.
"Come on, Shaq," Mark said as he sat back down to write the results on the form. "Need an answer."
Shaq said, "Eight."
"All right," Mark said. "Next is your arms. Give me a one to ten." Mark stood back up and measured Shaq's arms, hands, and fingers. Gosh, this guy is so huge, Mark thought to himself.
As he sat down to write in the results, Mark heard Shaq's low voice: "Nine."
"OK. Now your chest." Mark measured around Shaq's chest and waist. This guy is so darn huge, Mark thought. Writing down the stats, he prompted Shaq for his rating.
"Nine," Shaq said.
"Now you need to turn around, bend over, and hold your cheeks apart," Mark ordered. Shaq didn't protest at all, just slowly turned around and bent over, reaching back to spread his cheeks for Mark. Mark measured from the top of the ass down to the pink hole, which opened up to say hello. Leaning back to write down the results, he said, "Ass, Shaq, gimme your rating."
As he turned back to face Mark, Shaq calmly said, "Nine."
Mark was amazed at how calm Shaq had remained throughout all of this intimate contact. He was worried that Mrs. T might burst into the bathroom and see what was going on. But he went ahead, saying, "OK, big guy, time to measure your manhood." He firmly grabbed Shaq's soft dick in one hand, then applied the measuring tape. "Geez, Shaq, this thing is eight inches long!"
Shaq smiled a little at this. "Yeah, it's a 10." He continued to smile as Mark measured the circumference and then hefted Shaq's giant balls.
"Well I have to say, Shaq, you've got everybody else beat in the crotch department," Mark said with a chuckle. Then he sat back down in the tub to measure Shaq's thighs, calves, and feet, all of which rated nine according to Shaq.
Mark stood back up and said, "That's the end of that section. Just one part left." He started to climb out of the Jacuzzi, but realized he didn't have a towel. Shaq stepped out and walked through to the bedroom door, dripping everywhere as he went, and buzzed Mrs. T. About a minute later, she arrived at the door with fresh clothes for both men as well as a pile of warm clean towels.
As the two huge men dried themselves, Mrs. T asked, "How is your project going?" Shaq only grunted in response, but Mark told her they were doing fine and had only one section left. "Is that right?" Mrs. T asked with a smile. "Well, I'll have to help you out with the final section."
Mark turned bright red. "No, no, thank you, but we can do it."
"Oh, I'd love to help. I insist!" Mrs. T replied.
"Um, well, uh..." Mark was clearly embarrassed. "The last part is about, um, sexual stuff. So Shaq would probably prefer not to have a woman present."
Shaq put an arm around Mrs. T and said, "No, man, I'd love to have her help us. I got no secrets from this bitch."
"Shaquille!" Mrs. T. yelled. "Don't ever refer to a lady with such vulgar terms. Now, Mark, let's get started. Where shall I sit?"
Mark looked at Shaq in desperation, but Shaq just smiled at him, so Mark decided to go ahead. "OK, well, just put the clothes down on the dresser there. You can sit in the chair next to the bed. Here is my survey and a pencil. Shaq, you lie down on the bed, face-down, and spread your legs out." The big man complied right away, giving Mrs. T a wink as he hit the bed. Mark, still embarrassed to be naked in front of Mrs. T, took his spot between Shaq's legs. "OK, Mrs. T, you can ask the questions on the sheet, and right down Shaq's answers. Meanwhile, I'll be massaging different parts of his body."
"All right, boys, let's proceed," Mrs. T said. "Shaquille, here is the first question. At what age did you begin ma..." She paused. "Mark, do I really need to say this word?"
"No, it's alright ma'am, I'll say it for you. The word is masturbating," Mark said.
"Yes," Mrs. T said, only a little flustered. "At what age did you begin, doing what Mark said, and what was the experience like for you?"
As Shaq considered the question, Mark began rubbing Shaq's upper back. Shaq let out a low sigh, enjoying the massage. "Well, Mrs. T, I started spankin' my King Kong Dong back when I was about 10 years old. It was lots of fun."
As Mrs. T wrote down the answer, clearly having gotten past her embarrassment, Mark moved down to Shaq's lower back. Mrs. T read the next question: "Have you ever made love with a woman, and if so, when was the first time, and what was it like?"
Shaq said, "I fucked my first bitch at age 12. It was nice."
Another short and sweet answer from Shaq. He was breathing heavily, loving Mark's rubdown. Mark took this as a sign that he could move on to Shaq's huge, muscular ass.
Mrs. T finishing writing, then looked up and said, "Next question: Have you ever been sexually attracted to another man, and have you ever had a sexual experience with another man?" Mark was amazed that Mrs. T could ask those questions without batting an eye.
Shaq quietly enjoyed the ass rub for a while, groaning in pleasure as Mark worked a fingertip into his hole. "Well, Mrs. T, as you know, I love the bitches. But, yeah, I've been hot for the male of the species before. I just don't often meet any males who are big enough to match up with me. But Mark here has got me pretty hot at the moment." With this, Shaq raised himself onto his elbows so his ass poked out at Mark's face. Mark was getting pretty hot, too, and he didn't hesitate to stick two fingers deep into Shaq's open ass. Fingerfucking the big stud, Mark was shocked that Mrs. T could take all of this in without getting upset. She calmly wrote down Shaq's response while he moaned in pleasure.
"All right, the next item is the length of the erect penis," Mrs. T announced. Mark reached over to the dresser to grab his tape while Shaq turned over. Mark looked back to find the biggest dick he had ever seen, by far. It shot up toward the ceiling, huge, dark, powerful, with a glistening pink tip poking out of the sexy dark foreskin. Mark gasped, totally amazed by what he saw.
"Go ahead, man, measure it," Shaq said. Mark reached down and took the measurements.
"Shaq, it's huge!" Mark said, awestruck. "It's 14 inches long! Geez, man, that's amazing!"
Mrs. T wrote down the measurements, then said, "Mark, I don't understand this next question. Something about ejacu..."
"Oh right," Mark said, "Ejaculation. Coach wants me to measure how far your stuff goes when you shoot. Let's do it over here." He pulled Shaq up and over to the bathroom door. "Stand where the floor meets the carpet.
"Dog, you're gonna have to help me out," Shaq said.
"No prob, man," Mark said with a smile. Pulling in close behind Shaq, Mark reached around and squeezed Shaq's nipples while the giant jacked himself off. Mark stuck his free hand into Shaq's ass, sending three fingers all the way inside, then fucking him in and out with the fingers, building in intensity as Shaq's jacking pace picked up. Before long, Shaq's humongous cock exploded, sending giant spurts of cum across the bathroom. Mark held Shaq while both men took several deep breaths. Then Mark removed his fingers from Shaq's ass and went to do his measuring.
"That's a five-foot seven-inch spurt, "Mark said. "Got it, Mrs. T?"
"Yes, young man," Mrs. T replied. Standing up, she handed the clipboard and pen to Mark, whose own cock was still rock hard and bouncing around. "Now, Shaquille, I'm heading back downstairs, but I think you should be a good host and show Mark some thanks for all his work with this survey." She disappeared down the hall.
"OK, Dog," Shaq said, leading Mark by the shoulders out into the bedroom and pushing him gently onto the bed. "You deserve this." As Mark lay back, looking up at his giant friend, he was truly amazed at how comfortable Shaq had been with all of this. Shaq knelt down at the edge of the bed, then leaned down and, to Mark's surprise, wrapped his huge lips around Mark's cock! Mark gasped at this new sensation. It was the first blow job of his life! Shaq swallowed Mark all the way to the pubes, then started sucking in and out, in and out, while massaging Mark's big, juicy balls with his right hand. With his left hand, Shaq grabbed hold of Mark's own right hand. He continued to hold Mark's hand tight as his suck job got hotter and hotter. When Mark blew his load, Shaq didn't pull off—he drank every drop of Mark's virgin cum.
Slowly letting Mark's softening cock out of his mouth, Shaq looked up at Mark, who stared back in bedazzled ecstasy. "This is between you and me, Dog," Shaq said in a serious tone.
"Oh, you bet, you bet," Mark agreed enthusiastically. "You bet. Just between us. You know, this was my first, uh...you know."
"I know, Dog," Shaq replied, standing up and then pulling Mark up beside him. "You're a good friend, Dog. And a pretty fine ball player, for a white guy."
"Yeah, yeah," Mark said, slapping Shaq on the butt. "Let's head back to that Jacuzzi!"
The next morning, Mark stopped by Coach Phil's office to drop off Shaq's completed survey. "Why are you smiling so big, Mad Dog?" Phil asked.
"Well, coach," Mark said, "let's just say I'm really enjoying your survey project." He winked at the coach, then gaily skipped away toward the locker room.