Two outs in the bottom of the ninth It was the seventh game of the We are not too Serious championship. My turn at-bat. I led the league in getting hit... on. The Astros steal signs. I steal boyfriends and girlfriends and am known as the league's biggest homewrecking switchhitter. I'm surely headed to the Hall of Shame. I've had more men and women get to third base with me than the Mets' bullpen.
I play for the Brooklyn Babes, and we were playing our biggest rival, the New York Skankeys.
My name is Ruthie Baby. Let me tell you how this all got started, including the league.
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My parents passed away when I was young, leaving me their cucumber farm in Iowa. It was a lonely life. The vegetables provided me with food and fun. I won many blue ribbons at our county fair for the size of the cucumbers, although I saved the largest ones for myself. Those would stretch my pussy like a first baseman stretching to dig a ball out of the dirt.
I mean, I have dug balls out, but under bleachers; never from the dirt.
Along with the cukes, I grew a small patch of jalapeños which did not end well for yours truly. With failing eyesight, I searched the Internet for jalapeño popper recipes. Instead of 'poppers' I found jalapeño 'poopers.' Based on the name I suspected they might be organic butt plugs.
Spoiler alert; they are not. After trying one briefly I immediately prayed for constipation.
One dark, stormy night, the thunder was rumbling, and lightning was flashing. I was lying in bed watching Major League when I heard a voice; a deep, brown voice. At first, I thought it was Lola. It was hard to hear what the voice said over the thunder when finally I heard it clearly, "If you play with it, you will cum". Again, and again: "If you play with it, you will cum."
I just knew it could only mean one thing. I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out a fresh eight-inch cucumber. I put the veggie in my pussy and began to enjoy myself. It had been a while since I masturbated, and I almost forgot the sensation. Almost.
I was close to cumming when that damn voice started again. It said, "Are you deaf? I said If you play with it you will come. Not spelled c u m but c o m e.”
What a time for a fuckin' spelling bee.
I stopped masturbating and wondered who was behind this voice.
I then thought, who cares and went back to masturbating until I came.
The following day, I woke up with the sudden urge to plow under a few acres of cucumbers and build a baseball field. All my neighbors thought I was nuts. Some asked why I did it and all I could say was, "If I play with it you will come." The local farmhands snickered but I noticed their overalls were sporting more tents than a Boy Scouts Jamboree.
One day after making my field, a stranger showed up at my door. He bore a striking resemblance to Jon Lovitz. Why couldn't it have been Kevin Costner? He stood outside for several minutes, looking at the baseball field.
I opened the door and asked, "What the hell do you want? If you came here to make fun of me and my field, I am going to shove a cucumber up your ass."
He said, "Oh, you sweet-talking hussy. As tempting as a cucumber up my ass sounds, I came here to ask if you wanted to play baseball for an all-girl league?"
I replied, "That's it! I know you are making fun of me, and I will get that cucumber and shove it up your ass if I can pry it from my pussy. There is no such thing as a women's baseball league."
In a panic, he replied, "Let me show you, my credentials."
He pulled his card out of his wallet. He was not lying. He was a scout looking for women players.
I told him, "Okay, I believe you. Why are you here specifically?"
He said, "I saw your field from the road and thought anyone crazy enough to put a baseball field in the middle of a farm must love baseball. I would like to sign you to play for our league. As soon as you sign, would you please put that cucumber up my ass? You'll get a lucrative signing bonus if I squeal like a pig."
Nothing was holding me to the farm besides cucumbers, so I signed his contract. After signing he read my name. "Ruthie Baby? You were born to play baseball with that name. You know... Ruthie Baby...Babe Ruth. His nickname was 'the Sultan of Swat.' Ironically, that's also the nick of my dominitrix." He then rubbed his bottom with a wistful smile on his lips.
Keeping my word, I got my largest one and gave him a good going over with the cucumber. Feeling happy about my future in baseball I decided to treat the scout to a bonus. I easily wrapped my fingers around his diminutive member and began jerking his midget gherkin. (Or is that his little person gherkin?)
He moaned, "You are handling my mighty bat so well. Are you choking up on it?"
"I don't think anyone could choke on that tiny thing. Were you circumcised with a guillotine?" Three seconds later he came and I waved goodbye to the farm. We were on our way to the Big Apple.
Daydreaming on my train ride to New York I thought about how I have always loved baseball. One of my first masturbation aids was the handle of a yellow plastic Wiffle Ball bat. Not only did it give me pleasure, but the handle was so sticky it never again slipped out of my hands.
Those memories made me horny, so I slipped off to the lady’s room. I always carry a cucumber in my purse. I slid the cucumber in my pussy and was just beginning to enjoy the rhythm of the train running across the tracks. Bump bump bump. Then that damn voice again.
“If you keep playing with yourself I will cum” It kept repeating itself until I heard, “I told you. Now I came.”
I cleaned off the goo from the mirror and returned to my seat.
We arrived in New York at Skankey stadium. I was in awe of how big and beautiful it was. The field was full of hopeful women who wanted to play for one of the teams.
There were: the New York Skankeys, the Brooklyn Babes, Tampa Bay Tits, Cleveland Steamers, Atlanta Asses, Boston Boobs, and Baltimore Areolas. Somehow, I suspected a man was in charge of team names.
I made the Brooklyn team as the catcher. I had only played catcher once. At a frat house where I ended up covered in more semen than a Motel Six bedspread. We were then assigned uniforms. If you want to call them uniforms. They were nothing more than colorful lingerie. My team was coached by Yogi Bear and his bench coach Boo Boo. Our clubhouse was always stocked in delicious pic-a-nic baskets.
We even got sponsors for our team. We first got Chicos Bail bonds, but they had to issue to many bonds. We then got Little Boo Peeps. When we were not playing baseball, we were the star attractions.
I became extremely popular in the team shower room. I brought a supply of cucumbers with me and was happy to show all the girls how cucumbers were the most versatile vegetable.
I became a close friend of our first basemen Marylou Who was my roommate on the road. Mary grew up as a lumberjack and was great at carving wood. She was so happy to use a cucumber instead of the wooden penis she had carved. No more splinters. She even carved a bat for me and etched the name 'Wonder Girl' on it.
One night as we gave our cucumbers a ride, I asked Marylou, "Have you ever eaten another woman?"
She replied, "I thought you would never ask."
Before I knew what was happening, Marylou's tongue replaced my cucumber. It hit my spot. It was very Gene Simmons-esque and was flopping around like the worm creatures in 'Tremors.'
I yelled out, "Fuck vegetables, I want to marry your tongue."
Marylou licked me to the most amazing orgasms I have ever had. I took her vegetable friend from her pussy and tried to give Marylou what she gave me. I am sure I was successful as she soaked my face. We were caught up in sixty-nine; technically seventy-one since Marylou added two digits in my ass.
From that point forward, Marylou and I had nightly sex romps. We tried all sorts of toys and other vegetables, but nothing came close to each other's tongues.
We were almost caught in the act once. Our manager, who looked like Tom Hanks, walked in on us while Marylou was on her knees pleasuring me with her All-Star tongue. Tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. Her face was wet too but not from my tears. We had John Fogarty's 'Centerfield' playing so loud we didn't hear him enter.
Yogi gazed at my tears disapprovingly, saying, "Damn it, girls! There's no crying in cunnilingus."
One day while working out in the training room, a strange box arrived. It had 'Some Assembly Required' marked all over the side. I opened it. It was full of sybians. That voice started talking to me again from inside the box. I was the only one who could hear it.
This time the voice said, "If you build it, you will cum."
I rolled my eyes and asked the box, "Which is it? "If you build it you will cum?" Or is it "If you play with it you will come?"
The voice, sounding like James Earl Jones, answered, "I don't know, bitch! I am just reading from a script. You decide."
I went with, "If you build it you will cum". That sounded like a lot more fun.
In my mind, we had the best roster of women players. There is Marylou Who at first. Wanda What at second base. Irene Idontknow at third. Wynona Was played left field. Iris Idontgiveadam played shortstop. Becky Because played centerfield, and our best pitcher was Tammy Tomorrow. Two hefty gals, Abby Abbott and Connie Costello, rounded out our bench.
Wynona Was the only teammate who would make my morals look minor league. She even had on deck circles painted on each side of her bed. She kept doubleheader dildos for team sleepovers.
The Skankeys also had a good roster and were our biggest challenger. We played during the regular season, and they ended up being who we faced in the Championship.
It was a star-studded cast of announcers for the games. Sinn Sluttly did play-by-play and color was done by Karri Harry and Barbara Yucker. Barbara was known for her famous call, "That was just a little bit outside," even if the pitch hit a fan in the stands. Karri was known for her gravelly voice and the off-key singing of the seventh inning stretch song, 'Take me home after the ball game.' Then the entire booth harmonized on Don Henley's 'Boys of Summer.'
They started introducing the starting lineups Sinn said, “Who is on first.”
Karri interrupted, “That’s right.”
Sinn looked over at Karri and said, “Forget the starting lineups. I am not going there.”
Not to be dismissed so easily Karri continued to babble. "If the game is over in time, does anyone want to go to the Guess Who concert?"
A confused Barbara asked, "I'm terrible at guessing; Who?"
Irritated, Karri bellowed, "Not the Who, damn it! The Guess Who!"
"Oh, you mean the band?"
Karri threw her headphones to the stands below. "No, not the Band either, goldurn it! They are a completely different Canadian band."
Two hours later the announcers noticed a game was being played.
It was an exciting series for the fans. The series was all tied up three games apiece. In the seventh game, we were facing their best pitcher, Whitney Ford. She was on the injured list, and we had not faced her before. Seems she had the crabs most of the year. What did you expect from someone who played for the Skankeys? Our best pitcher, Sandy Kotex, was scratched from the lineup with a yeast infection. Karri Harry announced she must have been injured while baking bread.
The game began with the Skankey pitcher taking the mound. Sinn Sluttly resumed her broadcast. "Skankey pitcher, Ford, steps on the rubber..."
"I hope it's not a used rubber," Barbara Yucker exclaimed disgustedly. "Because jizz is considered a foreign substance."
"But from what I hear, it isn't that foreign to you, Barbara," Sluttly said with a smirk.
The teams were evenly matched and the sellout crowd, aided by 'Lesbians Eat Free Night', was raucous. Both managers were thinking outside the batter's box. Extra innings loomed.
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Lushies, this is your big chance to vote on the ending you like. There are three choices, and you choose which one you want. The members who vote for the most voted on ending will all be winners. The votes MUST BE SENT BY E-MAIL to one of the Authors. Each will get a shiny badge posted to their wall. For an extra special treat, they will be autographed by each author. Remember, these may be collectors' items. No telling what they might be worth someday. (Although Ebay seems a quite logical destination) If you are not friends with either author, then we will e-mail you one, or you can ask to be friends with either author if you dare.
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Ending number one.
So that is how we got to the bottom of the ninth and I was at-bat. The first pitch came screaming in. I fouled it off. My precious bat, ‘Wonder Girl’ shattered.
I asked the batgirl, "Bring me the best bat we have."
She flapped her wings and brought back a bat. She told me, "I made this bat personally for you. I carved it from the rare cucumber tree."
The next pitch was a curveball in the dirt for a called ball one. I just knew the next pitch was going to be one of those wicked four-seam fastballs. I adjusted my thong. Dug my cleats in.
SMASH!
I hit the ball so hard that it broke all the lights in one of the light standards. We won the game and the championship.
Unfortunately, the lights set fire to part of the stadium and then caught the wires on fire, causing a power outage in New York.
The league was forced to pay for all the damages, bankrupting it. No one was ever able to play in the women’s league again.
I returned home to my farm with my trophy in one hand and Marylou in the other.
We adopted the batgirl and lived happily ever after.
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Ending number two.
So that is how we got to the bottom of the ninth and I was at-bat. The first pitch came screaming in. I fouled it off. The second pitch was a called strike two.
I was ready for my big chance at being a hero. The third pitch was another screaming fastball. Silence fell over the stadium. I struck out. The Skankeys won the championship. There was no happiness in Mudville, Iowa.
I left the clubhouse in shame. I was so low.
A man grabbed me by the shoulder and said, "Please stop, Miss Baby."
I said, "What do you want?"
He said, "My name is Madison Vlasic, and I want to buy your cucumber farm. I will pay you twenty million for it. I will also allow you to keep your house and baseball field."
I accepted his offer in about two seconds. I returned home with Marylou in one arm and the batgirl in the other.
We all lived happily ever after.
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Ending three.
So that is how we got to the bottom of the ninth and I was at-bat. The first pitch was a curveball for a called ball one. The second and third pitches were also called balls.
I got the signal from my manager Yogi to take the next pitch. I ignored him and swung away and hit a lazy flyball to the outfield. We lost.
As I left the field, I was pelted by cucumbers. I was so low.
I went on to win several championships, was named the player of the year two times, and made millions. My farm went to crap, and the cucumbers were eaten by a swarm of locusts.
I lived happily ever after in my fancy penthouse in New York with Marylou and the batgirl.
