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Old April 27th, 2008, 10:09 PM
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Baseball's for Boys, Rugby's for Men (3)

Same disclaimer: all of this is obviously fictional.

In Arizona, where the Diamondbacks had just started their game against the Florida Marlins, things were progressing in much the same way. Starter Doug Davis was on the mound with Hanley Ramirez at first after a lead-off walk and Dan Uggla at the plate. But this time, it was the outfielders that felt something first.

Eric Byrnes grunted as his body began to change spontaneously—he hadn’t even had time to feel strange before he started to grow. Byrnes’ cap and glove rapidly disappeared as his already muscular body packed on something like 25 or 30 pounds of thick meat. He didn’t notice as Uggla slammed a ball to center, over Chris Young’s head. Young retreated along with hotshot 19-year-old right fielder Justin Upton, till finally he retrieved the ball and threw it in to shortstop Stephen Drew, J.D. Drew’s little brother. Uggla now sat on 2nd with Ramirez on 3rd.

No sooner had he done that, though, than Chris felt a sharp surge of energy in his body, and suddenly turned to look at Justin, an unknown lust in his eyes. One glance at Justin’s face let him know that the hot rookie was feeling the same things he was. Upton pulled off his hat and dropped his glove as he stared into Chris’s eyes. “Fuck, man, what the fuck’s happenin’ to us?” Justin grunted. He felt his chest growing and hardening, and his arms bulging into his sleeves. Young was already throwing a 9-inch boner in his white uniform pants, checking out his teammates like never before, as they continued to grow and bulge into their tightening jerseys and pants.

Davis, despite his rough start, now had two strikes on Miguel Cabrera as Eric Byrnes kept changing. Byrnesie, the consummate skirt chaser, now had a mind full of handsome, jacked men. Eric’s eyes clenched as he envisioned his old teammates, Bobby Crosby and Eric Chavez, feeding him their massive cocks in the A’s dugout—but as weird as that was for a guy who’d never dreamed about giving his teammates blow jobs before, it was just as weird that he imagined Crosby and Chavvy as huge, cut, beautifully muscled versions of themselves, with cocks almost twice their old size. And what’s more, he was becoming more and more like them with each moment. As Eric’s jersey changed into a white and red rugby shirt, clinging dangerously to his now slablike pecs, cobblestone six-pack, and fantastic biceps and delts, his imagination shifted to his other recent team, the Orioles. There was an utterly ripped and hung Nick Markakis, posing for Eric, flexing his thick pecs and cut arms as he fucked some unknown O’s call-up, blond and jacked, the kid’s dick dripping and his own pecs and abs clenched hard. There was an equally muscle-bound Brian Roberts, sucking fervently on the fat cock of Erik Bedard, his cute face impaled on the Canadian stud’s huge dickhead, his hand down his own football shorts, jacking his thick 11-incher as he grabbed at Bedard’s solid butt.

Cabrera had struck out and now Mike Jacobs was batting. In left field, Byrnes’ cock, swollen to 9.5 inches, now bulged demandingly into his white shorts, his fist pumping furiously. The hunky left fielder’s ass was beautiful, its handsome bulge into his shorts tight, hard and ready for a thick rugby jock dick. Why was he thinking that? Rugby jock dick? He was a straight baseball player. Right? Fuck. No…real fuckin’ men played rugby, all the fuckin’ studs played real sports. And there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting one of those studs to fuck his tight jock ass after the match either.

Byrnes’ whole body was tense with sexual excitement. His daydreams started to blend—thick-muscled rugger jocks Rich Harden and Nick Markakis kissing deeply, stroking each other’s cocks and abs and pecs, a ridiculously built Huston Street bent over with Brian Roberts’ huge cock planted in his throat. It was as his current teammates started to mix in that Eric felt himself losing it.

And it was at that point that somebody—Florida’s on-deck batter Josh Willingham, to be precise—finally noticed that the Diamondbacks’ left fielder was pumping out a load onto the outfield grass, and Chris Young was fucking Justin Upton’s sweet bubble butt against the center field wall. Josh, a handsome young outfielder himself at age 28, dropped his bat and stared, his left hand moving instantly to his hardening 6.5-inch dick. Behind him in the Marlins dugout, which unbeknownst to the team was slowly rising and shifting up into a sideline, Jeremy Hermida and Matt Treanor, among other guys, were unexpectedly boning up too, especially as their eyes wandered over Willingham’s ass, then Mike Jacobs’ ass as he stood in the batter’s box.

“You feel kinda funny, dude?” Hermida said to Treanor, groping his hard 7-incher openly. The handsome right fielder’s pants were already tightening against his thickening thighs, blossoming muscle ass, and expanding dick, growing rapidly into a meaty 10-inch Southern boy fuckpole. Treanor, a backup catcher who was married to a hot beach volleyball player, just grunted, “Uh-huh.” His own cock was swollen hard into his pants at 9 inches, and his ass changed into a taut muscle butt. Matt’s torso was thickening and defining itself into a hot rugby stud’s body, his pecs splitting the buttons of his jersey as they grew and rounded.

Josh, too, was growing. His ass formed into muscular perfection even as his uniform pants tightened against it and changed into a pair of dark green and black football shorts. Willingham watched as Byrnes jogged in from left, the hunk rugger jock’s muscular form becoming clearer and clearer and Josh’s dick getting harder and harder as a result. Eric’s huge fuckin’ 9.5-inch prick bounced in his shorts as he ran. The game had stopped for good now, and Stephen Drew and Chad Tracy turned to look at Eric.

As they began to bone immediately, Josh felt a hand on his shoulder. “Sup, man,” said Mike Jacobs, his other hand reaching down to stroke Josh’s rock-hard dick lightly. “Sides this, I mean,” he added, smiling like a hot, dumb jock at his joke. Josh could tell that Mike had already grown quite a bit—his helmet and bat were gone, and his solid, rounded pecs and thick neck, shoulders and biceps all bulged gently into Jacobs’ jersey, which was now collared and the same dark green color as Josh’s shorts. Mike’s own achingly hard cock tented a pair of the same shorts, and the former baseball stud’s tight ass had become a beautiful muscle butt, its handsome mounds catching the eyes of Conor Jackson, Arizona’s first baseman, and the pitcher Doug Davis.

“Dude, what the fuck?” said Josh, staring into Mike’s handsome face. Jacobs’ hand was sliding beneath Willingham’s shorts to start stroking his hard jockpole, which had grown from 6.5 to 10.5 inches, and was now drooling pre-cum. “We were straight.”

“Yeah well, shit happens,” Mike said impatiently. He pulled Josh’s jersey off and the extent to which the now-hung Marlin had changed was clear. Josh’s chest was beautiful, each of the two massive slabs of muscle pushing out in tanned, defined perfection, each topped by a ripe nipple that Mike just wanted to suck on right then. Josh’s torso was hairless, smooth, so you could see every inch of his gorgeous form. His abs, fuck. As Mike caressed them gently, easing closer to his formerly straight teammate, he felt the thrilling touch of another man’s strong hand on his stomach, and realized how jacked his eight-pack had become. Josh felt Mike’s bulging biceps under his tight uniform sleeves, and knew that his own arms looked even more stunning, their sharp definition and gentle bulge enough to make a guy’s mouth water. Willingham’s neck was thick and powerful, and his lats, traps and delts all twitched and flexed tightly under his tanned skin as he stroked Mike’s body through and under the former ballplayer’s uniform. As he looked up, Mike caught the hunky rugger stud’s face, now cut and stormy-eyed, the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to be facing in a scrum. That dark look of pure masculinity only made it hotter when Josh Willingham leaned forward and kissed Mike Jacobs deeply.

Around short, Stephen Drew was on his knees sucking Eric Byrnes’ massive rugby jock dick, sliding his lips and tongue up and down the full, throbbing length. As he groped Eric’s ripped abs with one hand and unbuckled his baseball pants and dug in to jack his own cock with the other, J.D. Drew’s little brother, just 24 years old, was becoming quite the muscle stud himself. His arms and back and shoulders swelled visibly into his jersey, and he could feel himself that his dick was growing and thickening past 9 inches. Soon Steve would be a shredded rugby boy like Byrnesie and all the others. To one side, Tracy was jacking his own cock and growing too. The third baseman had always been nicely built at 6’2”, 200 lbs., but he had now packed about 25 more pounds of muscle onto that solid frame. Anybody who played with Chad could also tell you the guy was gifted below the belt, and that only became more true as Tracy’s dick thickened and expanded to an 11-inch jock fuckpole, dripping pre-cum, as he jerked it hard.

Chad heard a moan to his right and turned to see that Mike Jacobs was now fucking hunk forward Josh Willingham deep in his muscle jock ass, making the gorgeous Marlin grunt in pleasure. His entire jacked body was tightened and sweating as he felt Mike’s 8.5-incher bottom out in his hole. Jacobs looked up a second later and saw Chad staring. Fuck, Tracy had gotten big—and hot. The D-backs’ third baseman had been a little average-looking before, but his eyes had softened, his face broadened, and his jawline become more like that of the rugby stud he now was. Chad Tracy was a fucking handsome man, and Mike grinned lustily, practically asking Chad to come up and kneel at Josh’s feet, pull the dark green football shorts down further to expose Josh’s aching 10.5-inch boner, and swallow the thick jockmeat in one gulp. Which is exactly what the former straight baseball player did. Josh groaned deeply, muttering, “Yeah, jock fag, fuckin’ eat my dick, oh fuck, dude, suck my huge fuckin’ cock…” His ass was looking fucking fine as Mike Jacobs’ own thick 9-incher pistoned in and out between the two muscular globes. Mike’s hands were wrapped around groping Josh’s meaty pecs and washboard abs, turning the hot Marlin on even more.

Back in the Florida dugout, Hermida and Treanor were now making out passionately, all thoughts of their wives, girlfriends, and entire straight jock lives no more than a memory. The two massive rugby jocks kissed deeply, stroking each other’s ripped upper bodies and groping each other’s oversized endowments, Jeremy thrusting his 8-inch prick into Matt’s fist while the gorgeous backup catcher felt Hermida’s fingers pump his 8.5-inch shaft hard and dance over his tender cockhead.

As Doug Davis and Conor Jackson had been watching all of this, they barely noticed that they were starting to change as well. The cute pitcher was achingly hard in his white uniform pants, the 8-inch, then 9-inch prick obvious as the fabric tightened against his full crotch and the perky bubble butt ass he’d grown. At 6’4”, 210, Doug didn’t have much further to go, but his body tightened and layered on 20 or 25 pounds of muscle as he stood there, stroking his growing jockpole slowly.

Just a few feet away, his teammate Conor was also growing and stroking himself. Conor stared slack-jawed at Mike Jacobs fucking Josh Willingham, and his own teammate Chad Tracy willingly slurping down Josh’s fantastic cock. All of them changed into these… rugby players. All of a sudden, as Conor’s hat and glove came off, that didn’t seem so bad. Conor’s cock was swelling into his pants, tenting them obscenely…7 inches, 8. He could play that game—he was big and strong enough, he thought as he looked down at his chest, now a pair of jersey-straining pecs, and his biceps, massive guns that threatened the sleeves with their new bulk. After all, rugby was for men, guys who loved to grapple with other guys, struggling for superiority, mental, physical…sexual. It turned Conor on so much all of a sudden, his now 9.5-inch dickmeat bulging into his white shorts along with his bouncing muscle ass, the idea of scrumming with a bunch of other sweaty, hot, ripped, gorgeous, amazingly hung guys, gripping pecs, shoulders, stomachs, hard cocks…he just had to whip it out…

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Doug whispered. He wrapped his powerful hand around Conor’s thick fuckpole, and the former first baseman moaned loudly, shoving his hands up under his white and red rugby jersey to touch himself, and feeling his new bulging pecs, cobbled abs, swollen obliques. Damn, he was hot.

And fuck, Doug was hot too. The 32-year-old pitcher had been kinda cute before, with a ready smile and a goatee often surrounded by a few days’ worth of stubble. But now, the hunky pitcher had transformed into a thick-muscled, absolutely ripped rugby stud whose hulking body strained his red jersey just as much as Conor’s, and whose bubble butt ass and fat 11-inch cock both pushed his white football shorts to the limit. The stubble was still there on the hot ex-pitcher’s face, but looked twice as good as Doug’s jawline had sharpened and his cheeks solidified, his features unbearably sexy. Conor wondered, as he felt Doug jacking his cock and pushing his hands up Conor’s jersey to tweak his sensitive nipples, whether deep down, he’d always been this attracted to Doug. He thought back to when the two straight guys had interacted on the field, slapping each other’s asses after a good play or maybe even getting a little friendlier after a big win and a few drinks at the hotel bar. Suddenly it didn’t seem so strange to think that what had happened to them just now was a natural result of years of bottled-up lust for each other, kept secret and even subconscious to keep the image of the straight baseball player only into banging chicks.

But Conor could only think about that kind of shit for so long, as Doug had now slid down his rugby shorts and begun sliding his fingers into Conor’s tight muscle ass while kissing the gorgeous dude deep and hard. And a second later, he felt Doug’s powerful hand move away from his throbbing dickmeat, replaced by the fantastic sensation of a hot, wet, powerful tongue and lips wrapping around his prick. Jackson looked down in amazement to see that Dan Uggla, the jacked muscle stud second baseman for the Marlins, had left second base and was now kneeling at his feet, a good half of his dripping rugby jock meat deep in Dan’s virgin straight-boy throat, the masculine baseball stud massaging the rock-hard length of Conor’s cock with his lips and throat. And not only had this straight jock fagged out for Conor Jackson’s rugby god body, but he was starting to develop one of his own too.

As Doug Davis began easing his thick 11-incher gently into Conor’s muscle butt, and Dan’s shoulders and chest ripped through his Marlins jersey, only to be recovered moments later with a collared rugby shirt, Conor looked over to third base. Dan’s teammate Hanley Ramirez, who’d been waiting there to be driven in, was now getting driven into by Stephen Drew’s unbelievably thick 10-inch dickmeat. Drew, transformed into a rugby god, had shoved down Ramirez’s gray baseball pants just enough to expose his muscle ass and was busy passing on the favor to the Florida shortstop, who with each thrust from the dominating D’back grew a little thicker, his muscles swelling a little fatter, his cock straining a little harder into his pants. Hanley’s biceps, forearms, and neck expanded visibly into his chocolate skin, taking Conor’s breath away.

In the stands, Agent #3 wasn’t paying attention to the players anymore. A couple of guys from ASU who’d been sitting down the row from him had him a little preoccupied. It had been fucking hot watching them slowly change, growing bit by bit into their polos and t-shirts and cargo shorts, round bulges of lean muscle packing onto their torsos and arms and legs from out of nowhere. It was especially hot the way those little college boy touches that screamed “frat boy” were suddenly absorbed by muscle - the blond’s choker necklace popped off and his brown-haired buddy’s popped collar nearly torn apart by their new trunklike necks, the tattoo of the frat’s letters on the blond’s bicep swelling with the muscle, the Live Strong bracelet on the other guy’s forearm tightening against his tanned skin. Eventually the agent, who was far from bad-looking himself, caught the eye of the two state schoolers. Within seconds, the blond had flipped his hat backwards and was on his knees deep-throating the agent’s big cock, skills he never knew he had making the agent writhe in pleasure, while the brown-haired hunk stripped his polo and let his new body show, dropping the jaws of several guys in the rows behind him, themselves changing rapidly into muscled up rugby fans. As the ASU jock undid his belt and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall slightly to hitch on his improved bubble butt ass and reveal a hint of the boxer briefs below and the swollen 9-inch fratboy cock below that, Agent #3 moaned and creamed his buddy’s throat. Things were heating up indeed in Phoenix.
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Old May 2nd, 2008, 05:13 PM
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oh my, that was hot
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Old May 9th, 2008, 08:05 PM
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fuckin' hot...again....lookin' forward to part 4
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