My name’s Phillip. To some, I’m just a normal guy walking down the street and minding my business. To many more, I am the newest player for the San Francisco Giants baseball team. When I was drafted, my position was listed as left field. Who the hell wants to play left field? No one wants to be back there missing all the action. The best plays in baseball happen in the diamond.
There’s something about me that everyone that knows me knows about me. I have an above average butt. Not what you expected? That’s ok. But to say it is above average is an understatement. I’m very proud of it. It’s all genetics: I’ve worked out the rest of my body, but I wanted to avoid my rear just because it’s amazing already. When looking at a side view of myself, it’s not hard to see it due to the sizable curve it creates. My girlfriend Krista loves it. Especially when I’m wearing my baseball pants. She likes to poke it and slap it and a bunch of other erotic motions that make her happy. Sometimes she goes for other areas, like my crotch which is usually covered with a cup per equipment regulation. To be honest, it feels good when she touches my ass, but I let her do it mostly to make her happy.
If you haven’t guessed, I’m here to tell you a story. It all happened during my first game as a Giants player. I was put in by my coach to start in left field where I was supremely bored. The ladies behind me got to see me squat though. I suppose the men did too.
In the top of the second inning, a ball was hit directly to me. It was an easy catch and out which ended that half of the inning. I always enjoyed when I made a good play like that not only because of the achievement, but what comes after. Taking a light jog back to my team members, I attempted to pass by as many people as I could. Why? An old baseball tradition: the butt slap.
It’s one of the biggest motivations for me to do well in baseball. When I do something good, I get a butt slap from my buddies, and when I do bad, I don’t. It is that simple. On this play, I managed to get 5 butt slaps, which was almost my personal best at the time (6, now it is much higher).
After making it back to my team’s area, I sat down on a bench, but only after slapping my own butt. Before I could drink something, my coach came over to me.
”Hey son,” he said. He spoke softly and carefully. “How would you like to change positions?”
I jumped up immediately. “Please! I’ll take anything that’s not outfield.”
“Only got one option for you,” he said with a chuckle. “We need a catcher.”
The inner emotions I felt at this moment are indescribable. The closest possible explanation could be summed up as “supernatural joy.” Why did this make me so happy? Well, one of my favorite players, Anthony Recker, was a catcher as well. One that had a very admirable backside. I’m not gay, but that man has one hell of a rear end. One that I kind of envy.
“Yes!” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Great, you’re going in next inning.”
Fast forward to the top of the third inning, and I am squatting behind home plate with protective equipment on, holding my glove out for the pitcher.
The pitcher throws a fastball. It slams into my hand, giving me a small sting, but the batter watches it sail right over the plate. Strike.
Next, he throws a curveball. The batter swings this time for another strike.
For the last pitch, the pitcher does something strange. I watch him as he looks at the ball in the glove and spits into it. I never knew why pitchers do this. Is it some kind of ritual? Does it do something magical? It was kind of disgusting to watch, but he throws a perfect fastball for strike three.
I watch the ball zip into my glove. It is still slimy as I carefully take it out, making sure not to touch the spit. After the third out is achieved, I make my way to talk to the pitcher.
“Why do you spit into the ball?” I asked.
“I think it gives me good luck, or anyone else that comes into contact with it.” He thinks for a moment. “So I guess that means you!” He pats me on my rear and makes his way to the rest of the players.
Though we actually didn’t win that game, our pitchers words about luck really stuck with me. What did I feel lucky about? How would I get more lucky in the future? I think about these as I lie in my bed. I guess one thing I did feel lucky about was my butt. It’s big, but I’m lucky my girlfriend actually likes it. I’m sure I’d be lucky if it was bigger too. I think about this as I drift off to sleep.
The next morning felt normal at first. I woke up, got up and went downstairs to make myself breakfast. Krista lives with me, so she was already down there. She had already made some eggs and bacon, so I sat down on a barstool pulled next to the island. Instantly, something was off. Sitting on the stool felt different. Something about it made me feel like there was something missing. Something like…. space.
“What’s wrong dear?” Krista asked, pulling up next to me.
“I, uh, don’t know. Something’s wrong but I don’t know what it is.” I shifted on the stool, and almost lose balance and fall off.
Krista jumped up. “Are you ok? You almost fell. How about you get up?” She said.
I reluctantly got up from the stool. Krista gave me a hug, her hands wrapping around my body, making their way to my rear. She patted my asscheeks while I flexed them, then she squeezed them. Hard. It felt good. Really good, actually.
”Phillip! I guess you haven’t been skipping leg day!” Krista said.
“I actually have,” I said, moving my hands down to my butt to see what the matter was. What I found shocked me. My ass felt much bigger than it was yesterday! I quickly ran to a mirror to check it out, and my theory was proven true: my ass was larger.
No wonder there was no space on the stool. My cheeks somehow filled my basketball shorts to the brim. In fact, each cheek was almost the size of a basketball. I grabbed a chunk of it, and made sure it was real. It definitely was. It was difficult for my hand to even grab it; it was so large.
A thought went straight to my mind: is this my luck? Having a nice ass? I thought I already had one. I suppose I wasn’t lucky enough before. Damn those pitchers and their luck tricks!
Also, how was I supposed to fit into my other pants? To answer that, I headed upstairs to find out. I felt my new, large butt hit the sides of the staircase several times. It seemed that I would have to be careful where I swing that thing from now on. It was difficult to maneuver in general with my bottom half having so much more mass. My center of gravity changed, so I had to get used to walking with it.
In my room, I checked myself out in the mirror and found that my suspicions were correct. My ass was HUGE. It was bulbous and heavy, pillowy and large. I tried clenching my cheeks, but they were so large I couldn’t even do that.
At this point, I noticed just how tight my basketball shorts were. Shorts like these NEVER get tight because they’re so loose and free, but somehow my butt had filled them up to the max. I slowly took them off, and was dumbfounded by my ass size; my boxer briefs doing everything in their power to hold it in. I slapped it. It started a chain reaction of jiggles.
I searched my drawers for a larger pair of shorts, and was fortunate enough to find a pair. Feeling exposed, I quickly put them on. It was a pain to try and get them over my new ass, but at least I would have some breathing room.
Or not. A few seconds after I got them on, the weirdest sensation occurred. It felt like someone was pulling back on my ass, stretching it. I immediately figured out what was happening: my ass was filling in these shorts too! It took only a few seconds for my ass to feel just as contained as it did wearing the previous shorts. Was this really my luck? Always having a prestigious booty?
Realizing what was going on, I sat in my desk chair to ponder. It wasn’t long until the same thing occurred. I looked down and saw my butt slowly creeping to the edges of the chair, filling in the space. I guess I knew why I felt weird on the stool at breakfast. It seems my ass would fill in space is chairs too. What amazing luck.
I really didn’t know what to do. I got up and looked down at myself, seeing my mountainous ass in all it’s glory. I supposed it really wasn’t that bad. I played with it in the mirror for a sec, thinking about how Krista will be in heaven the next time I see her. I started thinking about what I could do with it. A few ideas came to mind. Which should I do?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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