Playing College Ball

My name is Max, it's short for Maximilian, or at least it was until recently. I was the star pitcher for the Gem City Gemini's. I was also pledging the most prestigious Frat House in the country, Beta Pi Phi. My Father, Dr. Jin Amado thought that giving me an "American Name" would help me fit in, but it didn't. Rich Dad or not, I had to work my ass off to be accepted. Joining Beta Pi Phi was just another step to a shining future. I was majoring in Law, and the Beta Pi Brothers were mostly business majors, so I needed an in.

That's where America's favorite pastime came in. The Gemini's were campus celebrities, and they had just lost their pitcher, Stephen Mears, last semester. Nobody really knows where he went, he just sorta dropped off the face of the Earth like eight months ago. That didn't matter, because I could pitch with the best of them. The rest of the Gemini's didn't believe me at first, but Baseball's a big fucking deal in Japan. My Father played in Med School, and didn't hesitate to push me into the sport as soon as I could wear cleats. I made the team by smoking the best hitters they could put in front of me. After try-outs, I was approached by Beta Pi and asked to pledge. My fastball won me fast friends and even faster slam-pieces from our "Sisters" at Delta Phi. At my first party I learned the real reason they called themselves the DP Girls. That was the most important part. I'm not saying I'm a horndog or anything, but sex is definitley my main motivator. I mean, why bother trying to be popular if it's not to get laid. I worked out to get laid. I played sports to get laid. I lived to get laid.

At first, I only got to watch. Pledges have to earn that shit, even if they are star pitchers. Things improved as the season went on. Soon, I was pulling snatch constantly. Everything was going great, my game performance kept me out of the rougher parts of pledging and had me drowning in pussy. It even scored me a nickname, "Maximum Outage". I was the campus King-in-waiting. In line to be top dog. I had almost everything, until I lost it all.

It was the night before the Beta Pi Phi pool party, and it was also the biggest game of the year. The Gemini's had been cleaning house all season, and my fastball was hot gossip among scouts and students alike. It wasn't a championship game or anything, but it was far more important. An away game against Northside, our long-time rivals and usual betters, if I'm being honest. It all came down to that night, and I was golden. I was on fire. I was pitching the best game of my fuckin' life. They were incredible, but we kept it locked up tight, neck-and-neck, inning after inning. Halfway through the night, we started building a lead. I pitched a no-hitter and you could almost see their moral start to crack. Bottom of the eighth, it all went to hell.

I tried a two-seamer and heard my shoulder 'click' like a revolver dry firing. I'm a pitcher, definitely the best one on the team, possibly the best one on the West Coast. MLB included.But I'm not an outfielder. Which is unfortunate, because once the Coach realized I'd fucked my shoulder, that's where he put me. I'm not saying I can't catch, I can catch well enough even with a bum arm, but I'd rather be pitching. Pitching is about control. Pitching is proactive. I'm proactive. I don't like to surrender control in anything. I like to do things, not have things done to me. The Northside Nomads started gaining ground after I went down, but we held in as best we could, no thanks to me. At the end of the ninth inning, it was all tied up again and the same thought was on every Gemini's mind. If we could just stall them out, we could push into extra innings and take the win.

That didn't happen. The Nomad's relief hitter, a kid named Jerry Barton, stepped up to the plate and hit a homerun that soared right past my head. I didn't even see it so much as hear it whistling past me. My mitt went up a half-second too late, and the Nomads went home victorious once again. My shoulder was killing me, but the shame hurt far more.

The coach was an old friend of my Dad's, and he blamed the shoulder for me missing the catch. I think he was just trying to help me save face, but it didn't help. He sent me straight to the Team Doc as soon as we left the stadium. By the time the bus dropped me off at the Doc's office, "Maximum Suckage" was trending on Twitter, and I could hardly breathe. I pressed the ice-pack into my shoulder and wished it could freeze my heart. Wished I could pull a Stephen Mears and just disappear. I went into the Doctor's office hoping against hope that she'd find something tremendously wrong with my arm. As if a doctor's note could excuse me from the vengeance of my Frat Brothers. I didn't have to wait long at all to be seen, Coach had called ahead.

The Doctor, a young woman named Bethany Reid, was the textbook definition of Bombshell. A tall leggy blond with a heart-shaped face and brilliant blue eyes. She looked me over, and pursed her pillowy red lips.

"Helloooo Nurse..." I sighed, flashing a practiced smile and looking her up and down.

"Do you wanna skip to the part where I turn my head and cough?" I asked, hoping my campus fame hadn't died yet.

"I'd rather we didn't, Mr. Amado." She responded coldly, glancing at me and then looking down to the clipboard in her hands.

"In fact, I was hoping we could skip to the part where you go home and take some aspirin." She continued, not looking back up.

"Well that was rude," I quipped, narrowing my eyes at her chest "You sure you don't want to rub me down with a topical solution or something, I'm real achey."

"Mr. Amado, I'm a lot like a home run, in that I am not something you can get your hands on." She said, flashing a cruel smile.

"If you want though, I can get you a bottle of topical burn ointment." She said, her smile fading and her eyes going cold.

It stung, being dissed by the team doctor, but what stung worse was the knowledge that this was the least of my torment. My phone was still buzzing from people tweeting "Maximum Suckage", and even my best friend, Marcus, had gotten in on it.

"You look really down... I'm sorry I ragged on you." Bethany said, clearly forcing a smile.

"I am really down, but you could cheer me up you know." I said, trying a smile again.

She stared at me quietly for a moment, her cold blue eyes impossible to read. She flipped through a small manila folder with my name on the outside, and then looked at me again.

"You know, I think I have just the thing..." she said, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a small vial of pink fluid.

"This is an experimental supplement, that might just help you earn back that stellar reputation of yours, or at least help you forge a new one." she continued, filling a syringe with the pink liquid.

It almost seemed to almost glow in the too-bright fluorescents. She compared a paper covered in complex formula to my chart, and looked at me again.

"All of this information is correct, yes? Blood Type O, and you have a twin sister?" She asked, stepping towards me with the syringe.

"This'll fix me right, Doc? I'll be able to play ball again?" I asked, wincing as I saw the length of the needle.

"Oh, this will absolutely fix your problem. That I guarantee, just sign the release and we'll begin the treatment." She said, that strangely cruel smile curling her lips as she pushed a clipboard into my face.

I signed without reading it, sufficiently weirded out and ready to leave. She slid the needle into my arm, and depressed the plunger. I felt a hot rush as the pink fluid entered my vein. My aching shoulder tingled and then went numb. The room spun, and I tried to steady myself. A moment later, she was slapping on a bandaid and sending me on my way.

"Check back with me in a day or two, and stay away from alcohol until we talk again." She said, just before she closed her office door in my face.

I took the bus home, it was a long ride and I almost passed out. It took everything I had to stay awake. My head was swimming. Everything was spinning and for some reason my chest felt like it was on fire. My ass hurt too, and my hips were sore. By the time I got off the bus, I felt like I had been beaten with a bat. I stumbled up the stone steps and through the heavy oak door before falling to my knees in the middle of the Beta Pi hallway. My stomach churned, my chest was burning and my head was throbbing. I hurt all over and I could barely stand, but I worked my way towards the stairs and down the hall before falling into the pledge's shared bathroom. One of my pledge-brothers was in unconscious and stripped to his boxers in the tub. It was Marcus.

I crawled to the toilet and hurled violently, stuff coming out of me that I didn't remember eating. I pressed my face against the cold porcelain, my breathing coming out in shallow rasps. It was like a sauna in the house. I felt like I had the flu, all heat and ache. I pulled off my shirt and threw it into the corner before hugging the toilet again. There was a sudden sharp agony in my groin, it felt like my cock and balls were in a flaming vice-grip, my eyes welled with tears and I vomited again. This time it was red.

My heart was pounding, I was in a cold sweat and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. I felt like I was dying. I fished my cell out of my pocket, but my shaking hands dropped it into the bowl. I watched it sink into the red and the sick, and the room began to swirl. I tried to stand up, but instead pitched back and my head hit the tub. Everything went black.

I woke up a few hours later, feeling like I had the hangover of my life. Everything hurt. Everything.

"Holy shit!" I heard Marcus shout from the tub.

I looked over at him, trying to block out the blinding overhead lights with one hand.

"What?" I asked, my voice coming out in a weird, high squeak.

"You're um... Well, I..." He said, stammering stupidly.

"Spit it out you moron, I feel like shit." I hissed, feeling frustrated and miserable.

"I'm sorry..." Marcus started, grinning like an idiot, "It's just that, you know, you're topless."

"Topless? What the hell are you talking about?" I growled, or at least I tried to growl, but my angry baritone was gone.

"Yo titties are hangin out girl, what the fuck you think I'm talking about?" Marcus whispered loudly, his eyes going wide.

I stood up, blood rushing to my head and fuzzing my vision as I did so. I stumbled blindly to the sink and starred in the direction of the mirror. As my vision cleared, my jaw dropped. There was a woman where my reflection should be, and she was topless. She almost looked like my sister, except with a bigger rack and fuller lips. I moved my hands slowly, and watched her mirror my every movement. It took a few minutes to sink in, but I soon realized that somehow, the hot topless chick in the mirror was me.

"So, uh... Where are you from?" Marcus asked, clearly trying to flirt and failing miserably.

I barely heard him. I was busy cupping, lifting and dropping my tits in the mirror.

"Max..." I managed to mumble, the shock making my entire body numb.

"Oh! So uh, are you like, Max's Sister or somethin?" He asked, standing up and fumbling with his boxers.

I glanced over at him, and my eyes immediately shifted downward. I could see his cock, thick and long, swelling rebelliously as if it were planning a prison break. My cheeks flushed and I felt my mouth fill with saliva. My nipples went hard and there was a hot wet feeling in my crotch. Curiosity overwhelming me, I looked down, pulling at my loose pants and learned that my well-manicured guy parts were mysteriously absent. In their place, however, I was left with something else I was intimately familiar with. Curiosity giving way to raw panic, I grabbed my shirt from the floor, pulled it on and ran out of the house without another word.

I sprinted across campus, pushing my aching body to move in a way it suddenly seemed unaccustomed. I'd run laps with hangovers before. I was fast and could work through sickness and pain like Jordan in his prime. Something was different though. Somehow, when I changed, I'd lost the muscles I had worked so hard for. I remembered reading something about sexual dimorphism in humans, but I couldn't remember exactly how it worked. It didn't help that I couldn't stop seeing Marcus' big dick every time I closed my eyes. I ran past a pair of joggers, all guys, and my eyes followed them automatically. I could see their bulges bouncing rhythmically behind their shorts. I felt another burst of warmth in my crotch, a surging of sensation that ran up my legs and made me feel tingly all over. I had to get out of here.

I made it to the Doc's office without stopping, but I regretted it. My legs were shaking and I was lightheaded. I couldn't catch my breath, my throat tasted coppery and my lungs hurt. I threw open the door and stormed past the secretary without saying a word. When I walked into Doctor Reid's office, she was sitting at her desk painting her nails hot pink.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" I shouted, my now feminine voice sounding shriller than I expected.

"Well, if it isn't Mr... Or should I say Ms. Amado?" She said, barely looking up from her nails.

"I'm a girl, what the hell did you do?" I demanded, tears welling in my eyes betraying my attempt to cover my fear with anger.

"I simply killed two birds with one stone." She said, standing up and walking over to the cabinet that contained the pink fluid. "I've been working for some time on a mutagenic steroid compound that could in a matter of hours do what sexual reassignment surgeries and hormone treatments do in years." She said with all the practiced monotone of someone who had definitely done this sort of thing before.

"Where a transexual individual usually has to undergo several operations, months of hormonal supplements and sometimes even psychiatric help, my mutagen rewrites a person's genetics to make them female..." She spoke as she sifted through the contents of the cabinet, though her tone suggested that she should be stroking a big white cat.

I stared at her in dumb silence as she continued, my mind racing to comprehend what was happening.

"Even now, you've probably noticed a change in your thought patterns." I immediately flashed back to Marcus' growing erection before forcing my mind to go literally anywhere else.

Unfortunately my mind went to the joggers, and I had a vivid mental image of myself, my female self, being spit-roasted by the two of them right there on the sidewalk. I could feel myself blush, and then I clenched my fist so tight it hurt and glared at the doctor.

"Oh sweetie..." She cooed, "Don't worry, you're still distinctly heterosexual, its just that your libido knows you're female now, so it wants what it wants."

The way she said the word "want" was deliberately breathy and sexual, and both times it conjured up images of rock-hard cocks of all colors, their tips dripping with precum and their shafts throbbing lightly. In my growing hysteria, I could almost feel them parting my new pussy lips and sliding inside me. There was a dull, empty ache between my legs.

"Oh look at that, you can hardly contain yourself, you must have been quite the horndog before, the mutagen doesn't impact libido." Doctor Reid said with no hint of emotion aside from mild amusement.

"You have to understand Ms. Amado, you're standing on the cusp of the greatest scientific discovery in the history of the world..." She said, her cold blue eyes looking me over like I was some sort of test-subject, which I guess was an accurate way to describe me at the time.

"And, as a bonus, you have an opportunity to learn a very valuable lesson about how to treat women." she said with a joyless giggle.

The room spun again, my face flushed and my loins ached, something was very wrong with me, I couldn't think straight. I felt like I was starving, like I had some need that superseded all else and dominated my life. I briefly wondered what could make me feel this way, but my mind wandering back to Marcus' bulge answered my question.

"You know Maxine, you could turn me in..." Reid said, a smile growing on her glossy lips, "But nobody would believe you, and even if they did, you took illegal supplements so you can kiss your scholarship goodbye."

"So I'm stuck like this forever?" I managed to ask, willing my foggy mind to focus on the situation at hand.

"Maybe, maybe not, the changes were short lived in my rat subjects, only lasting for a few days before the transformation reversed itself, but the only other human trial seems to have skipped town." She said, her eyes gleaming.

I suddenly knew what happened to Stephen Mears. Or, I guess Stephenie now. The room started spinning again, my heart was pounding and I was dizzy.

"You don't look so good Maxine, would you like me to write you a prescription?" She said, her smile was all teeth, like a shark's, "Take two cocks, and call me in the morning." She said cocks in that practiced breathy way, and my knees went weak.

I left the Doctor's office in a dizzying haze, and stumbled to the bus stop. I didn't know what to do. I found myself standing next to Mr. Ellis, my Brit-lit professor. Grey hair, broad shoulders, light stubble, and those slacks... I shook my head violently, I couldn't do this alone. I needed help to ride this out until I got better. I had to get better, I had to believe I would get better. More than anything though, I had to stop thinking about dick. That was first and foremost on my list of shit. The bus ride was torture. There was only one empty seat and Mr. Ellis sat beside me. I could smell the warm, wood scent of fine cigars on his jacket and when he sat down, there was a pronounced bulge.

"You look familiar, have I had you before?" He said, his lilting Welsh accent making me soak.

"No... But you can have me anytime you want." I whispered before I could stop myself.

The bus came to a stop and I realized what I was doing. Without saying anything, I frantically climbed over him and hurried off the bus and into the Frat house. I rushed down the hallway, up the stairs and into the small room I shared with Marcus. He was sitting on our bean-bag in his boxers playing Xbox, two other pledges were watching him play and knocking back beers.

"Marcus, I need to talk to you." I shouted frantically all while trying desperately to not look at his boxers again.

"Well I uh, I try not to um, who are you again?" He said, clearly flustered by my panting, sweating presence.

"That doesn't matter, I need to talk to you in private." I said, motioning for his friends to leave.

Luckily, they did. We were alone, and I finally could tell my best friend what was going on. I walked towards him and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I could see it now, he was fully erect. His big, magnificent cock, black and thick, had escaped through the slit on the front of his boxers and it stood at full attention. Huge. Thick and meaty, with a single drip of pearlescent precum crowning and sliding down the ebony shaft. I realized I was staring at it at the same time I realized he was staring at my tits. For the first time today, I noticed that I hadn't been wearing a bra. It hadn't occurred to me that I'd need one, but my bare breasts pressing out of my baseball jersey was probably the source of his issue. I thought about the way I'd been staring at his cock, and the way I'd stared at so many co-ed's asses and titties.

He noticed his soldier's salute and opened his mouth to apologize, moving one big hand over to cover it. I couldn't help myself. I tried. I tried so damn hard, but I couldn't. I dropped to my knees in front of him, pressed one thin finger to his lips, and took his big cock in my left hand.