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Old April 15th, 2008, 09:57 PM
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Baseball's for Boys, Rugby's for Men (2)

Part 2
Repeat disclaimer: This is completely fictional.

As it happened, the changes came to the Indians-Yankees game at Yankee Stadium at kind of a tense moment—the Yankees were up 5-3 in the 6th, but Cleveland was threatening starter Andy Pettitte with only one out. Grady Sizemore had led off with a sharp single to left, and after Grady was moved over with a Jason Michaels groundout, Casey Blake had hit a double and power-hitter Travis Hafner was intentionally walked to load the bases and bring up Ryan Garko, the rookie first baseman. David Dellucci waited on deck.

This time, as Agent #2 concentrated all of his mental power on the players on the field, it was the hitter and the battery who changed first. As Pettitte delivered strike one, Ryan didn’t even swing, just dropped his bat and stood there touching his stomach. Jorge Posada was throwing the ball back to Pettitte when he felt a twinge of something too, and as he caught the ball, Andy felt his handsome 7-inch dick plump a little in his compression shorts and tight baseball pants.

Ryan Garko was feeling a great deal more than that. His cute face wrinkled in confusion as his slightly loose stomach tensed, firmed, thickened, and sharpened right beneath his fingers. Like Millar, Ryan was a big guy, but like the O’s new forward, Ryan had a body that was transforming rapidly into that of a ripped rugby stud. As Pettitte and Posada stared and tried to figure out what was happening, Garko’s pecs swelled into his jersey, thicker and rounder as the taut nipples squeezed against his red and black underarmor. The changes to Garko’s stomach were clear as his jersey, changing into a looser fabric rugby shirt, red and blue with the Indian on the chest, tightened against the new thick six-pack and curving obliques. Ryan’s ass bulged and firmed up, its hot twin mounds of muscle beautiful under his uniform pants.

As if they were jealous, Pettitte’s and Posada’s bodies began following Garko’s lead. Pettitte’s chest thickened and pressed into his uniform, spreading the pinstripes wider and wider, as his biceps and neck surged against the jersey’s seams. Posada’s gear disappeared as his cock swelled into his jock, his cup suddenly gone. Jorgie’s pecs were growing, too, and his face and jaw were hardening beneath his backward-turned helmet. But it wasn’t till the Yankees catcher reached out and wrapped his hand around what he could of Ryan Garko’s massive upper arm, bulging into the new Cleveland rugby jersey sleeve, that he really started to grow.

Garko looked over at him and grinned widely, making Posada throw an even bigger boner at the sight of the hunky Indian stud’s gorgeous smile. The New York catcher’s dick swelled from 6 inches to a thick, leaking 9-inch fuckpole. Posada’s thighs and ass were packing on muscle at an unbelievable rate, thickening into slabs of hard jock meat that made Garko’s mouth water. Jorge’s ass became a taut muscle butt, and as his pants rose and tightened into a pair of navy and white football shorts, its gorgeous bulge was perfectly clear to everyone. His hand had moved from Garko’s huge bicep up his thick arm and over his bowling-ball delts and hulking neck to start stroking Ryan’s defined jaw and cheek, even running through the longer, shaggier hair that he’d grown.

Ryan just smiled, watching Posada’s own arms bulge with power and definition, and his now-massive pecs and seam-splitting lats and abs push hard into the jersey, still pinstriped but now clearly a rugby jersey, collared with logos surrounding the NY logo on his broad, round chest.

“What…unnhh…what the fuck’s goin’ on?” Posada said. His accent, never that strong, was now completely gone, and he sounded like a hunk Latino jockboy out of Miami or LA. He was still confused as Garko turned toward him, his Indians shirt now coming off and revealing a stunning upper body, from his thicker-muscled but more sharply cut six-pack to the rolling muscle of his pecs and his large, suckable nipples, to his fantastic shoulders and ridiculously pumped arms.

“You just turned into the hottest Latin rugby player this side of the Atlantic, that’s what’s goin’ on,” Garko murmured, and before Posada could even answer, Garko’s tongue was in his mouth and he was kissing the hot Cleveland stud deeply, his other hand stroking Ryan’s 10-inch cock under the dark red shorts he now wore.

Watching from the mound as his catcher and the opposing batter began making out, Andy Pettitte now whipped out his massive Louisiana jock dick, pulling his own navy-white shorts down just enough to let the now 11-inch monster of a prick rise full and hard and pumping out of his pants. Like all the other boys, his big, full balls hung low under his dick, pressing into his shorts, just beneath the waistband. In the back, Andy’s ass, which had rounded into muscle ass perfection, now rose beautifully into his lowered shorts, the two bulges pushing the waist out to accommodate their muscular power.

Andy Pettitte was an Adonis of rugby muscle. His perfect chest swelled into his jersey, framed by a thick, veiny neck, broad bulging shoulders, well-defined biceps, triceps and forearms that strained the sleeves of his striped jersey, and a set of abs that no pitcher in baseball, let alone Andy, could have possessed before. Below that, the hunk rugger jock’s thighs were a good 5 or 10 pounds of muscle thicker than his already powerful pitcher’s legs had been, and his calves would have outclassed a champion biker.

But as beautiful as his body was, the first thing that David Dellucci noticed was Andy’s face. “Fuck…” Dave whispered softly as he felt himself go hard. He’d never thought about a guy this way, but Andy Pettite’s features had formed into the most handsome face Dave had ever seen, with a perfectly sculpted chin and cheekbones, and soft brown eyes that made the straight baseball jock want to bend over and suck Pettitte’s huge dick right then. Funny, since Pettitte’s own lips were now a pair of strong cocksucking lips that could coax a load out of any of his straight teammates.

And what a fucking dick, Dellucci couldn’t help thinking. Dave had never seen a cock that big, not in four years of high school baseball, or four years at Ole Miss, or even in his years in the big leagues. He’d even seen Andy up close before, as they were both from Baton Rouge and Pettitte had struck up a conversation one day when the Phils were playing the Astros. Not that he’d been paying attention, but Dave felt like even a straight guy like him would have recognized a dick like that.

Not that Dave was really straight anymore either. His breathing quickened as he walked over to Andy, dropping his bat and helmet along the way. When he finally got to the mound, Dellucci had already grown a good bit, his pecs pushing harder than before into his jersey and his already impressive biceps threatening the sleeves with new ridges and grooves of muscle. He didn’t notice that his own handsome cock was growing, too, throbbing 8.5 inches now into his uniform pants, but Andy sure as hell did.

“You’re lookin’ fine, buddy,” Andy said, glancing over the cut Indian outfielder’s body. Dellucci’s thick, carved eight-pack and obliques tightened against what was quickly becoming his red and blue rugby jersey, and his pecs formed into a beautiful pair of rugger jock muscles, followed shortly by his shoulders and neck, both unlike anything you’d ever see on a baseball player. Dave’s face was hardening, his features now equal to those French studs who posed for the Dieux du Stade calendar. Unlike those guys, however, Dave was interested in more than just doing a photo shoot with his ripped and hung fellow players.

Andy moaned as Dave began stroking his massive rugger jock dick above his navy shorts, caressing Andy’s firm ass and solid pecs with his other hand. Pettitte’s hand snaked into Dellucci’s uniform pants too, and he quickly discovered that the hot Indians outfielder was still growing himself, his beautiful cockmeat now expanded to nearly match Andy’s at 10.5 thick, throbbing inches. Dave’s pants were soon changed into muscle-strained football shorts anyway, obviously tented by his hard jock dick, where his former straight opposing pitcher in baseball, now muscle fag rival in rugby, still groped and squeezed it. Andy was also taking advantage of the way Dellucci’s new rugby shorts allowed his other adventurous hand to slide in the back and palm Dave’s thick, round ass muscles.

The two boys couldn’t restrict themselves to jacking each other off for long, though. As his hair shortened and a thin layer of stubble appeared on Dellucci’s hardened chin and jaw, the hunky Cleveland jock looked up at Pettitte. After Andy met his gaze, it only took a few moments before the gorgeous boys were kissing deeply, making out just like horny straight college sophomores at a frat party.

Soon, other players, who’d been stunned by the events going on around the infield before, began to feel themselves start to grow, and change, and started to like it. At first base, Andy Phillips had wrapped his arms, bulking up and hardening into enormous guns, around Travis Hafner’s chest from behind. The thick-muscled Indians DH, instead of shoving him off or at least expressing discomfort with the situation, grinned as he felt his own chest and shoulders and arms tightening and rounding into perfect form under his jersey, and leaned back into Phillips’ embrace. Within half a minute, Hafner’s uniform had tightened and changed into a Cleveland rugby shirt that hugged his ripped torso and a pair of white football shorts, pulled down over Pronk’s massive thighs and bubble butt far enough to allow Andy Phillips, whose thick-muscled torso bulged into a similar uniform and was now that of a rugby hunk, to ease his enormous 10-inch prick into Hafner’s beautiful ass. Travis’s own dick, swollen to 9 dripping inches, bobbed beautifully in the air, Andy half stroking its thick mass, half pushing Hafner’s jersey up to grope and palm the unbelievable abs the Indians slugger had grown. Travis’s face had improved amazingly as well, and he was now handsome enough to make Andy feel like he could shoot deep into his rival’s hole right then.

90 feet away, it took Robby Cano and Derek Jeter 15 seconds to change from slick-fielding, strong-hitting baseball players to utterly ripped, fantastically well-muscled rugby players, Jeter a halfback whose new guns and delts and gorgeous pecs made a mockery of the supposed all-around athlete he’d been before. His dick tented his navy and white shorts hard at 9 inches, and his meaty ass made even the as-yet-unchanged outfielders’ mouths water. Jeter no longer had that pretty-boy face, but had become a thick-jawed, tight-lipped rugger stud who could drive through six men. Cano was a little bigger but no less cut as he threatened the new pinstriped jersey his expanded torso bulged into. He was running his hands over himself in amazement, feeling the rise of his pecs and nipples, the cobbled hardness of his eight-pack and obliques, and the firm, bouncy, inviting bulge of his gorgeous jock muscle ass, when he noticed Jeter.

Robby had never been into guys before, and certainly never into Derek Jeter, but this guy looked fucking incredible. Cano instantly decided he had never seen a more beautiful man (though if he’d checked the mirror he might have changed his mind). His 9.5-inch cock went hard just at the sight of the former shortstop. Unconsciously he slipped off his shirt, revealing his carved abs, exposed ribs under rounded, perky pecs, and bowling-ball delts and biceps, all tanned to a golden brown perfection.

Jeter didn’t waste a moment. He walked over to Robby, kissed the new halfback deeply, then dropped to his knees, shucked Cano’s rugby shorts, and swallowed most of the massive dick that sprung out. Cano put his hands to Jeter’s head and guided the hunky jock’s skillful mouth up and down his thick cockpole, watching as Derek’s shoulders and back and triceps all continued to swell and flex into his Yankees rugby shirt. But something caught Robby’s eye as he watched his teammate suck his huge cock, and he looked over.

“Keep goin’, man, don’t stop on my account.” Casey Blake stood where he’d been on second base when all this started, staring at the scene before him, his hand shoved into his gray uniform pants and jacking his dick hard. He hadn’t really begun to change yet, but it was beginning as he watched the two Yankees go at it. Casey’s pecs broadened and rounded, spreading the “Indians” on his jersey wider. His shoulders hardened and his biceps began to push out into the sleeves of his shirt. As his abs also formed into the solid, hulking six-pack of a prop forward, it was clear that the Cleveland outfielder was more rugby stud than baseball player now.

After that, it was only a matter of time before Casey joined the hot couple of Yankees hooking up at second base, which, by the way, was filling in with grass as Yankee Stadium’s well-known form shifted and metamorphosed into a rugby oval. Blake kept stroking himself gently, his dick growing to 8 inches, then 9, then 10 fucking thick, meaty inches bulging into his pants as they shortened and tightened into white shorts just like his buddies’.

But Derek and Robby didn’t let him have all the fun for long. Jeter went around Casey’s back, wrapping his thick biceps around the Indian hunk’s sides to clutch his now-bulging pecs, as he kissed and licked the tanned skin of his hulking neck. Cano came to the front at the same time, gripping Casey’s abs and ass through the fabric of his tight uniform (and copping a feel of Jeter’s bulge while he was back there) before kissing Casey hard and deep.

Finally, over at third, things had gone a little slower. Alex Rodriguez had begun to change along with his teammates. And truth be told, he didn’t have far to go, at least as far as the mental aspect was concerned. A-Rod had been hooking up with Jeter for years—it would have thrilled their critics to know that all the rumors they peddled were actually true, but the two Yanks kept it pretty well bottled up and covered over with various beards. Physically, though, Alex changed as dramatically as the others. The good-looking Dominican grew and bulged into his baseball jersey even as it started to change, its sleeves tightening against A-Rod’s expanding biceps, its fabric clinging to his abs and pecs as the front of his torso became the thick, impenetrable wall of muscle sported by all rugby players. He was rubbing himself gently as it happened, feeling the jersey change to a rugby shirt, feeling his strong stomach and chest form spontaneously into a fucking ripped set of abs and pecs, each ridge and valley of muscle carved deep into his well-tanned skin.

Grady Sizemore watched all of this in disbelief. The stunningly hot young Cleveland center fielder didn’t feel a thing, but he was watching his teammates—David Dellucci, the club pimp, Ryan Garko, the Stanford ladies’ man, Casey Blake, who couldn’t stop talking about his latest prize’s tits—all of them hooking up with other guys? In the middle of a game? And turned into freakishly muscled rugby players? What the fuck was going on?

He couldn’t help looking at A-Rod as the Yankee third baseman moaned. Alex’s dick, swollen to 11 thick inches, now tented his navy football shorts obscenely, its massive bulge obvious as it snaked under the fabric. Alex’s thick calves and thighs, not to mention his fantastic muscle ass, were enticing too, but somehow Grady was transfixed by that cock, even though he’d never given a shit about a guy’s cock in his life. Yet now the cute Indian felt his own 7-inch prick start to swell and rise into his baseball pants, and as he looked over to where Jeter was now fucking Casey Blake’s improved bubble butt with his 9-inch beast while Robby Cano sucked lustily on Blake’s own fat 10-incher, Grady’s cock only got harder, now making a clear outline in his uniform pants.

“Hey, buddy.” Sizemore looked over to where A-Rod had finished changing and now stared at him with a look that made clear all the things that Alex Rodriguez would like to do to him. Alex licked his full, cocksucking lips as he glanced over Grady’s body, the Yankee loose forward’s dick pressing insistently against his navy rugby shorts.

“What…what the fuck is this?” Grady muttered. He didn’t notice, but his own arms and chest were already beginning to grow just like the other guys’. He had a fine, cut fucking build already, but nothing compared to what A-Rod, Jeter, Garko, and Dellucci had become. Sizemore, who was ultra-straight, had a mind that resisted the thoughts flowing over all the players on the field, but he was already boned from what he was watching, and it was only a matter of time before his defenses gave out.

Grady saw that over at first, his teammate Trot Nixon had emerged from the Cleveland dugout to join Pronk and Andy Phillips, and the once-mediocre Nixon had become a beautiful young rugby hunk, his facial hair gone, his ass bulging gently into his shorts, and his whole ripped body pumping as he fucked Andy Phillips while Andy kept nailing Hafner.

Around where home plate had been, which was now more like midfield of the rugby pitch, the first four guys to change had picked things up. Grady watched in astonishment, his own cut abdomen pushing out into his tightening jersey with new layers of thick muscle, as the new rugby boys formed a hot foursome. Garko’s 10-inch cockpole pistoned in and out of Dave Dellucci’s inviting muscle ass. Dellucci’s hand was pumping up and down Jorge Posada’s huge 9-inch dickmeat, exposed when Andy Pettitte pulled down his teammate’s shorts and impaled his hot ass with his own dripping 11-incher. Posada’s hand was likewise stroking Dellucci’s aching 10.5-inch cock as he kissed the new Cleveland rugger jock hard and deep. All four guys were clearly no longer the straight baseball players they’d been just a few minutes ago, but had grown bodies and developed preferences that drew them to each other’s shredded torsos, perky muscle butts, and massive dicks.

The whole time he’d been watching this, Grady Sizemore had been growing and changing too, and when he turned back to A-Rod, the Yankee rugger stud saw to his delight that Grady’s pecs had swollen into huge, round slabs of muscle, each topped by a large nipple, and his stomach was clearly exposed beneath the changing jersey as a jacked, cobblestone eight-pack, the strength of which Grady could never have imagined before. He finally seemed to realize something was up as his biceps, swollen and defined into high ridges and deep valleys of muscle, and his powerful shoulders, now a set of bulging delts and traps, tested the sleeves of his jersey, which were tightening against the tanned skin of his upper arms anyway.

Grady’s hands slipped from his hulking chest over his newly cut midsection to grasp the rock-hard dick that now throbbed into his pants at 11 inches. Sizemore was so turned on that his new cockmeat had actually started leaking hot pre-fuck into his pants, which were quickly becoming tight dark red football shorts. The lithe but well-built center fielder’s legs had changed into the thickly muscled, powerful thighs and calves of a fullback. His ass followed suit—it was definitely nice before, but now it had become fucking incredible, the gorgeous twin bulges of muscle into Grady’s red shorts enough to make A-Rod nearly shoot his load without even touching his cock. Grady’s ass was perfect, the round, meaty muscle butt just begging for a thick rugger dick to fill it up.

Grady was getting into it now, too, stroking his cock through his shorts and grunting softly as he watched Dellucci and Posada cream all over each other’s cut six-packs. He felt A-Rod’s bulging arms wrap around his sides, the hunky Yank’s hands stroking Grady’s eight-pack under his tight Indians rugby jersey, exposing the beautifully tanned and fantastically muscled torso to the world for the first time. Grady smiled and closed his eyes as Alex pulled the shirt up, revealing inch after inch of Sizemore’s amazing body—after his abs and obliques came his thick, rock-hard pecs, his cut lats and traps, and finally his fucking stacked guns, the biceps and triceps twice as thick and strong as they had been. Grady’s neck was now a bull neck, the tendons straining the necklace he wore, and his face, though still boyishly cute and very handsome, had tightened a little as his jaw solidified and his cheeks hardened into pure masculine beauty.

Alex tossed the jersey away and wrapped his hands around Grady’s muscular sides, one tracing the definition of his new eight-pack, the other dipping below the elastic waistband of Grady’s shorts to grope his massive cock, now grown out to more than a foot of dripping, rock-hard rugby jockstud meat, tenting his shorts furiously. Sizemore moaned as he felt Alex’s own 11-incher pressing against the tight muscle of his ass, and he leaned back to kiss Rodriguez gently on the lips.

“I don’t know what the fuck they did to us, dude, but I need you to fuck me—hard.” Grady couldn’t believe what he was saying, and more than that couldn’t believe it was true. But he knew it was as he felt the pleasure of A-Rod’s thick jock dick sliding between his two impossibly well-muscled ass cheeks and easing slowly inside his tight virgin ass. “Right there, stud, fuck me, Alex, aw shit buddy,” he grunted, and within seconds Alex Rodriguez was fucking Grady Sizemore, and pumping his thick 12-inch cock in his fist under Grady’s shorts. Not only were these two former MLB stars fucking, but hyper-muscled, ultra-masculine, ridiculously hung versions of them, too.

“Damn, look at Sizemore and A-Rod,” grunted a husky, deep voice from what had been the bullpen but was now one of the sidelines of a loud rugby stadium. Scott Proctor, a Yankees reliever who had packed about 30 pounds of muscle onto his body in the past 5 minutes, looked up from where he was fucking Kyle Farnsworth over the padded bench of the Yankees sideline to glance at where A-Rod was now full-on railing Grady Sizemore’s gorgeous muscle ass. A-Rod didn’t have uncontested top status for long, though, as massively muscled and impressively hung versions of alternate first basemen Doug Mientkiewicz and Jason Giambi came off the Yankees sideline and quickly encircled the couple, with Jason dropping to his knees to suck Sizemore’s dick while jacking his own 8.5-inch beast hard, and Dougie lining up his 9-inch meat with A-Rod’s sweet bubble butt.

Back on the sideline, Scott and Kyle were thoroughly enjoying the show, even as their ripped bodies ground together in a jocklust the two former relief pitchers never expected to feel for each other. Both boys had been good-looking before, and Kyle, with his thickly muscled thighs, powerful ass, and jacked torso actually looked kind of like a rugby player before, but the changes hadn’t spared him. Not only had Farnsworth’s cock grown from an already-impressive 8 inches to a jaw-dropping 12.5-inch bulge into his navy and white rugby shorts, but his abs, pecs, guns, neck and ass, all while staying totally ripped, had become thicker and stronger. And on top of all that, something had changed in Kyle Farnsworth’s head to make him less of a pussy-chasing ultra-straight jockstud top, and more of a hungry, versatile rugger jock muscle fag, who still loved slamming his dick into a hot guy’s tight hole, but also didn’t mind getting his own beautiful ass penetrated by a buddy’s thick cockpole every once in a while—a buddy like Scott Proctor, whose body had changed more amazingly than Kyle’s ever could.

Scott’s pecs, swollen with muscle, and his massively bulked up delts, traps, and biceps all threatened his tight white and navy pinstriped rugby jersey. The sleeves rose and fell along with each bulge of Scott’s arms, and his hulking neck tested its strength at the top. All of his newly thickened torso pressed and bulged into the fabric insistently as Scott fucked his teammate deep and long. Soon he had to rip Kyle’s jersey off to feel up the gorgeous prop’s new chest and abs like he’d been dying to do since even before Kyle changed into a ripped rugby jock. Scott didn’t think he was a fag before, but he had to admit he’d had plenty of thoughts about Kyle’s jacked body and how he wished he could have one like it…or have it.

And now he had both. As he ripped off his own white jersey too, exposing his newly muscle-bound torso and leaving both hot former relievers shirtless and sweaty, Proctor realized this really was his dream come true. He loved feeling his fat 10-inch cock slide in and out of Kyle Farnsworth’s virgin muscle jock hole, his powerful hands clutching Kyle’s melon ass, gripping his pecs and eight-pack, or slipping under Kyle’s football shorts to pump his footlong-plus muscle stud dick.

Kyle was obviously enjoying it too as he moaned, his entire jacked body flexing tight, and came hard into his rugby shorts, 9 or 10 shots of stud jockcream firing out of Farnsworth’s overloaded balls. Scott wasn’t far behind as Kyle’s tight ass squeezed around his prick. He grunted, clutching Kyle’s pecs and pressing his own ripped chest to Kyle’s strong back as his aching 10-incher exploded into the fireballer’s hole. Scott’s own fantastic ass was flexing and bulging into his navy and white football shorts at the same time, the twin mounds of muscle rising and falling beautifully as he drained his balls into Kyle’s ass.

“Fuck…” Kyle groaned happily. He turned over as Scott pulled out, and as he lay there stared over his buddy’s jacked physique, the enormous pecs topped by ripe nipples, the magnificently cut eight-pack, the treasure trail down to Scott’s still-hard 10-inch dickmeat, the swollen guns and shoulders. Damn, Scott Proctor had grown into a fucking beautiful man. Just then, Kyle caught Scott’s gaze, and the two former straight MLB jocks both noticed just how gorgeous the other was. Their lips came slowly together, and soon Scott Proctor and Kyle Farnsworth were kissing passionately, their hands all over each other’s ripped bodies.

Back on the field, A-Rod had pumped a load into Grady Sizemore’s new muscle ass and Grady had fired one into Giambi’s throat. Now Dellucci and Garko, their own massive cocks done with round one, came over and quickly caught Grady’s eye. The three Cleveland studs didn’t take long to get down to business, with Sizemore taking Dellucci by his fantastically jacked obliques and kissing him deeply, while Garko came around back and slipped Dave’s shorts down, immediately pressing his once-again rock-hard 10-incher deep into the gorgeous muscle butt of David Dellucci. Hungry for a load, Grady knew he wouldn’t have long the way his buddy Ryan Garko fucked. He dropped to his knees, caressing Dellucci’s cobbled torso on the way down, before easing the stud Indian’s thick 10.5-inch prick into his mouth.

The old Grady Sizemore might’ve thought this was weird. The cute center fielder, 100% straight, might’ve wondered why he was sucking his teammate’s overgrown cock, or why his own hand was buried in his red football shorts, jacking his own 12.5-inch jockpole, or why Robby Cano was coming over to wrap his cut body around Grady’s and slide his own fat prick into Sizemore’s ass as he caressed and groped and clutched Grady’s ripped pecs and eight-pack and obliques. But the new Grady didn’t wonder about any of this. The new Grady just closed his pretty green eyes, smiled, and sucked harder on David Dellucci’s dripping cockpole.
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Old April 16th, 2008, 04:27 AM
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fuckin awesome! please continue!
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Old April 16th, 2008, 06:03 AM
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I agree, fuckin' part 1...waiting for part 3
Without change, there can be no growth
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Old April 17th, 2008, 11:11 AM
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Just terrific---can't wait for more---awesome work!!
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Old April 17th, 2008, 09:35 PM
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Glad you guys liked the story. Any of you into MLB boys or was it just general enjoyment?
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Old April 18th, 2008, 05:51 AM
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I'm into MLB boys, so I'm really enjoying your stories. :-) Can't wait until you get to do the Cardinals....
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Old April 18th, 2008, 03:31 PM
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I just hope that the MLB association doesn't catch wind of this story-- aren't players names and likenesses copyrighted by the MBL association? Not that I think they would be seeing this story anyway.

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Baseball's for Boys, Rugby's for Men (1) iciss Muscle Growth Story Showcase 5 April 16th, 2008 05:46 AM

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