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Story: Get Me Out of the Ball Game
by Walt46
Writer / Degenerate
4 years ago
Get Me Out of the Ball Game
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
DragonMelde, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Meredith smiled at Henry. “You must be quite happy in your job.”
“May we go inside the stadium?” Varan asked.
The hamster waved cheerfully at the door. “Yeah yeah, sure sure, go right on in. Open tryouts today.” As the paladin and the mage approached the door, it opened by itself. Meredith quickly saved the game before they walked in.
“You do realize that this is a trap,” Varan remarked.
“Of course,” Meredith said. “But it’s the only way to get to the Car Park, so we see what sort of trap this is.”
They walked through a lobby that included a massive portrait of a red-tailed hawk in ornate robes of office and a haughty, penetrating glare. A plaque beneath the image proclaimed that this was Lord Esad, the founder of the city, and the only other doorway led into a dim corridor.
The only source of light was directly ahead of them, and a sign beside the opening read reassuringly, The Light at the End of the Tunnel Might be a Hungry Dragon. Have a Nice Day!
The pair exchanged glances and started walking down the hallway.
The light grew brighter the further along they walked, until they left the corridor and stood, blinking in the bright sunlight, within a large grassy field marked by dirt paths laid out in a diamond pattern. The rest of the stadium was seating, and at the far end, one point of the diamond held a large box with a cage atop it off to one side of the vertex.
“Looks like a football pitch,” Meredith remarked, “only sort of square, and no goal areas.”
“Aka, not like a football pitch at all, then.” The pair grinned at each other and started toward the far end of the field.
There were people in the stands; a collection of different species sitting slumped in their seats. Many of them were disfigured to some degree or other, with bleeding noses and black eyes predominating. A few munched listlessly from boxes of some sort of foodstuff.
At point of the diamond closest to the stands sat a pentagonal plate, with the box and cage set off to the right. Meredith glanced into the box and recoiled. “What is it?” Varan asked.
“Hentai beast.”
“Brr’dakh,” the mage said as they both moved back from the cage. The vir stepped on the plate and abruptly vanished in a bright flash.
“Varan!” Meredith jumped clear, her sword already drawn as four figures stepped out of a doorway under the stands. “Where did she go?”
One of the figures, a lean bloodhound, said, “Welcome to Open Tryouts!”
“What does that mean? And where’s my partner?”
“’Open Tryouts’ means that it’s open to anyone,” the hound explained, “and the survivors get to leave here.”
There was another sudden flash, and Varan appeared in the cage, seated on a small bench. She looked around, momentarily disoriented, and gave a start as the hentai beast reached up and stroked her dangling tail. “’IK!” the vir shouted, her tail coiling around her as she drew her legs up. “Kras – “
“And now,” the hound said, his voice amplified as some healthy furs began to take seats in the stands, “we have a pair for the Open Tryouts!” There was a scattering of applause. “Today we have a paladin to play, and her partner as the mage in the cage!” This produced more applause.
Meredith raised her sword, only to find her paw empty and the weapon back in its scabbard. “Play, huh?” she asked. “What’s the game?”
“Simply put,” the hound said, “so I’ll put it simply: Keep your friend from getting fucked to death.”
Varan gulped, looking down at the beast.
“How do I do that?” Meredith asked.
“To answer that question, I introduce you to Nerudenyr,” and another of the four figures, this one a very well-built vixen wearing a pinstriped uniform of some kind, stepped forward. She had a ball in her right paw and a thick leather glove on her left. Her eyes were bright blue, but one pointed upwards while the other seemed fixed on a point just beyond her nose. “She’ll throw the ball, to try to hit the target on the cage,” and he pointed at a disc, roughly twenty centimeters in diameter and marked off in concentric red circles, mounted on the cage’s right side.
Meredith eyed the vixen warily. “Is she any good?”
“Meredith!” Varan said.
“I have to know, lir demef.”
“Of course she’s good!” the hound replied. "She throws a curve ball, a fast ball, a slider, a Shriner, a knuckle ball, a Lucille Ball . . . her vital numbers are 101 and 6 - the speed of her fastball, and how many she's killed this week." He smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. "She’ll only allow a fur to get to first base if they buy her dinner."
“I heard that!” another vixen, this one dressed in padded armor and wearing a cagelike mask on her face, came forward. She and Nerudenyr hugged rather awkwardly.
“She’s Ruanhcog,” the hound explained, “Nerudenyr’s girlfriend. Now you’ll be able to know who’s the pitcher and the catcher in the relationship.” Ruanhcog glared at the hound and went to take a position behind the pentagonal plate, settling into a crouch.
“Meredith?”
“Yes?”
Varan glanced down. “Remember the ‘baseball’ field on Level Ten?”
It took her a moment to think back. An awful lot of things had happened between then and now, but finally Meredith recalled it, and the paladin snapped her fingers. “Where’s the umpire?”
One of the fans suddenly shouted, “The umpire's blind! The umpire's BLIND!” Others took up the chant, and Varan shuddered. Kashlani had qualms about blindness.
The fourth figure on the field, a feline wearing a black uniform, padded chest protector and a mask, turned around to reveal that he was holding a tin cup in one paw. He had dark glasses on under his mask, and his free paw held the leash of a feral canine wearing a vest labeled Guide Dog.
The guide dog was also wearing dark glasses.
The umpire shouted, “I am NOT!” He then turned around to face toward the concession stand and yelled, “Play ball!” The feral canine shrugged and slowly tugged at him until the feline faced in the right direction.
Meredith asked the hound, “So what do I do?”
“Easy. Stop Nerudenyr from hitting the target.”
“How?”
“You can distract her. Killing her’s not allowed.”
The golden palomino mare swiveled her ears momentarily at one of the advertising signs that suddenly appeared around the perimeter of the field. The signs depicted a young feline in a sailor suit holding his nose, while a feral canine was digging to cover something up. “What’s ‘Crapper Jack?’”
“Oh, that was Lord Esad’s favorite snack,” the hound said. “The concession stand’s named for him.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Meredith said as the game began.
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
DragonMelde, color by 
Major Matt MasonMeredith smiled at Henry. “You must be quite happy in your job.”
“May we go inside the stadium?” Varan asked.
The hamster waved cheerfully at the door. “Yeah yeah, sure sure, go right on in. Open tryouts today.” As the paladin and the mage approached the door, it opened by itself. Meredith quickly saved the game before they walked in.
“You do realize that this is a trap,” Varan remarked.
“Of course,” Meredith said. “But it’s the only way to get to the Car Park, so we see what sort of trap this is.”
They walked through a lobby that included a massive portrait of a red-tailed hawk in ornate robes of office and a haughty, penetrating glare. A plaque beneath the image proclaimed that this was Lord Esad, the founder of the city, and the only other doorway led into a dim corridor.
The only source of light was directly ahead of them, and a sign beside the opening read reassuringly, The Light at the End of the Tunnel Might be a Hungry Dragon. Have a Nice Day!
The pair exchanged glances and started walking down the hallway.
The light grew brighter the further along they walked, until they left the corridor and stood, blinking in the bright sunlight, within a large grassy field marked by dirt paths laid out in a diamond pattern. The rest of the stadium was seating, and at the far end, one point of the diamond held a large box with a cage atop it off to one side of the vertex.
“Looks like a football pitch,” Meredith remarked, “only sort of square, and no goal areas.”
“Aka, not like a football pitch at all, then.” The pair grinned at each other and started toward the far end of the field.
There were people in the stands; a collection of different species sitting slumped in their seats. Many of them were disfigured to some degree or other, with bleeding noses and black eyes predominating. A few munched listlessly from boxes of some sort of foodstuff.
At point of the diamond closest to the stands sat a pentagonal plate, with the box and cage set off to the right. Meredith glanced into the box and recoiled. “What is it?” Varan asked.
“Hentai beast.”
“Brr’dakh,” the mage said as they both moved back from the cage. The vir stepped on the plate and abruptly vanished in a bright flash.
“Varan!” Meredith jumped clear, her sword already drawn as four figures stepped out of a doorway under the stands. “Where did she go?”
One of the figures, a lean bloodhound, said, “Welcome to Open Tryouts!”
“What does that mean? And where’s my partner?”
“’Open Tryouts’ means that it’s open to anyone,” the hound explained, “and the survivors get to leave here.”
There was another sudden flash, and Varan appeared in the cage, seated on a small bench. She looked around, momentarily disoriented, and gave a start as the hentai beast reached up and stroked her dangling tail. “’IK!” the vir shouted, her tail coiling around her as she drew her legs up. “Kras – “
“And now,” the hound said, his voice amplified as some healthy furs began to take seats in the stands, “we have a pair for the Open Tryouts!” There was a scattering of applause. “Today we have a paladin to play, and her partner as the mage in the cage!” This produced more applause.
Meredith raised her sword, only to find her paw empty and the weapon back in its scabbard. “Play, huh?” she asked. “What’s the game?”
“Simply put,” the hound said, “so I’ll put it simply: Keep your friend from getting fucked to death.”
Varan gulped, looking down at the beast.
“How do I do that?” Meredith asked.
“To answer that question, I introduce you to Nerudenyr,” and another of the four figures, this one a very well-built vixen wearing a pinstriped uniform of some kind, stepped forward. She had a ball in her right paw and a thick leather glove on her left. Her eyes were bright blue, but one pointed upwards while the other seemed fixed on a point just beyond her nose. “She’ll throw the ball, to try to hit the target on the cage,” and he pointed at a disc, roughly twenty centimeters in diameter and marked off in concentric red circles, mounted on the cage’s right side.
Meredith eyed the vixen warily. “Is she any good?”
“Meredith!” Varan said.
“I have to know, lir demef.”
“Of course she’s good!” the hound replied. "She throws a curve ball, a fast ball, a slider, a Shriner, a knuckle ball, a Lucille Ball . . . her vital numbers are 101 and 6 - the speed of her fastball, and how many she's killed this week." He smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. "She’ll only allow a fur to get to first base if they buy her dinner."
“I heard that!” another vixen, this one dressed in padded armor and wearing a cagelike mask on her face, came forward. She and Nerudenyr hugged rather awkwardly.
“She’s Ruanhcog,” the hound explained, “Nerudenyr’s girlfriend. Now you’ll be able to know who’s the pitcher and the catcher in the relationship.” Ruanhcog glared at the hound and went to take a position behind the pentagonal plate, settling into a crouch.
“Meredith?”
“Yes?”
Varan glanced down. “Remember the ‘baseball’ field on Level Ten?”
It took her a moment to think back. An awful lot of things had happened between then and now, but finally Meredith recalled it, and the paladin snapped her fingers. “Where’s the umpire?”
One of the fans suddenly shouted, “The umpire's blind! The umpire's BLIND!” Others took up the chant, and Varan shuddered. Kashlani had qualms about blindness.
The fourth figure on the field, a feline wearing a black uniform, padded chest protector and a mask, turned around to reveal that he was holding a tin cup in one paw. He had dark glasses on under his mask, and his free paw held the leash of a feral canine wearing a vest labeled Guide Dog.
The guide dog was also wearing dark glasses.
The umpire shouted, “I am NOT!” He then turned around to face toward the concession stand and yelled, “Play ball!” The feral canine shrugged and slowly tugged at him until the feline faced in the right direction.
Meredith asked the hound, “So what do I do?”
“Easy. Stop Nerudenyr from hitting the target.”
“How?”
“You can distract her. Killing her’s not allowed.”
The golden palomino mare swiveled her ears momentarily at one of the advertising signs that suddenly appeared around the perimeter of the field. The signs depicted a young feline in a sailor suit holding his nose, while a feral canine was digging to cover something up. “What’s ‘Crapper Jack?’”
“Oh, that was Lord Esad’s favorite snack,” the hound said. “The concession stand’s named for him.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Meredith said as the game began.
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