Date: Thu, 16 May 2002 11:10:46 -0700
From: Zippy Queer <zippyqueer@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mad Dog on a Mission -- Chapter 3

*** Mad Dog On A Mission *** Chapter 3 ***

This story is a totally imaginary fantasy about
professional basketball players.  Nothing in this story
should be taken as any indication of the actual sexual
orientation or behaviors of any of the players.

Hope you enjoy!  Comments welcome at
zippyqueer@hotmail.com.

-Zippy Queer

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After his fun weekend in Vegas with fellow Los Angeles
Laker Rick Fox, Mark Madsen couldn't wait to give Coach
Phil Jackson the results of Rick's personal inventory.
Heading into Coach's office, Mark held out the completed
form and said, "Two down, Coach!"

Coach Jackson laughed at Mark's enthusiastic attitude about
his personal inventory project, designed to give him
special insight into the inner minds of his players.  "So,
you've done Kobe and Rick," Coach said.  "Who's next up?"

"Well, coach, I think it's time for me to talk to Shaq.  I
figure he might be the toughest nut to crack," Mark said.
Coach smiled at Mark's unintentional double entendre.

"Yeah, he'll be a hard one," Coach agreed.  "Here, take a
new set of blank forms.  You going to have some time to
talk with Shaq this week?"

"Yep!" Mark answered happily.  "He wants to practice his
inside defense, and I'm the sucker who always volunteers to
get whomped by the big guy.  I'm heading over to his place
late tonight.  He's seeing one of his kids this afternoon.
I told him about the inventory, and he seemed cool with
it."

"Great, Mark," Coach said.  "Best of luck.  You know how
much I appreciate all your work, Mark."

Mark blushed at Coach's praise, then said, "No prob,
coach," and headed out.

Around 8:30 that night, Mark pulled on a red Stanford tank
top and some black sweat shorts, then set out to drive to
Shaq's place.  He hoped Shaq would be OK with the survey
stuff.  Mark could hold his own against Kobe or Rick, but
Shaq could probably knock Mark out cold if he didn't like
what Mark was asking.  But Mark knew that the big guy had a
soft spot for him, as did all the other players.

By the time Mark turned onto the private lane leading up to
Shaq's estate in the hills north of L.A., the sun had set,
and Mark wondered if Shaq had a court with lighting where
they could practice.  He had toured the inside of Shaq's
place once and was really impressed with how nicely
maintained it was.  Probably due to the tireless work of
his housekeeper, Mrs. Toliver, Mark thought.  Mark loved
talking with Mrs. Toliver, a 60-ish widow with graying hair
who reminded Mark of his own mother.  He knew that Mrs.
Toliver played a mother-type role for Shaq, keeping his
house and affairs in order and providing encouragement when
the big guy grew disillusioned or frustrated.

So, Mark was happy to see Mrs. Toliver open the front door
before he even had a chance to ring the bell.  Mark gave
her a big hug, which made her giggle.  She led him back to
the kitchen, where Shaq was about to bite into a slice of
pizza.

"Now just wait a minute," Mrs. Toliver scolded Shaq.  "Your
company has arrived, and I'm sure he would like some pizza
too."

"Sorry, Mrs. T," Shaq apologized with a smile.  "Hey there
Dog, have a chair.  How you been?"  Mark sat and had some
pizza while they chatted, with Mrs. Toliver piping in now
and again while she cleaned up the kitchen.  Mark noticed
that Shaq had also put on a Stanford tank top, which Mark
had given him as a birthday gift.  Even though it was size
XXXXXL, it was still a little tight on the big man, and his
powerful chest was clearly outlined under the fabric.  Mark
really liked the fact that Shaq had remembered to wear the
Stanford shirt tonight.  The big guy could be pretty
considerate from time to time.

"OK, Dog," Shaq said to Mark a few minutes later, "let's
hit the court.  You give me a half-hour to get you all
bruised up, then afterward you can do your survey or
whatever."

"Sounds great, Shaq," Mark said, following Shaq out the
door.  They walked past a flower garden, then down a
curving path by some blackberry bushes, when they finally
reached a gorgeous, brand-new, full-size outdoor basketball
court, complete with bright lights and a rack with a dozen
balls.  Mark thought the court had a really special
feeling, totally isolated from the rest of the estate, very
private, a little bit romantic.

They played for a while, working up a sweat after a few
minutes of jumping and bumping.  Mark had been a Laker for
two seasons, and he still was in awe of Shaq.  This
gigantic man, this big black Hercules, his deep ebony skin
glistening in the lights, sweat pouring off his face,
chest, arms, legs—everywhere.  Mark was a big guy, too, but
still a good six inches shorter and forty or fifty pounds
lighter than Shaq.  Mark thought it was really cool to play
one-on-one with Shaq, since it was basically the only time
he played somebody bigger than himself.  Their gigantic hip
muscles collided with tremendous force, over and over.
Shaq's sweat dripped all over Mark's head and shirt, like
always.

After 45 minutes, they stopped for a quick drink of water.
Shaq peeled off his Stanford shirt, which by now was ripped
at the seams on both sides from all the hard contact.  His
huge bare torso was truly impressive, as was his flat,
muscular stomach.  Sweat had soaked through most of his
shorts, and his soft dick was clearly outlined through the
wet material.   "You're getting better, Dog," Shaq said.
"Still just a little guy, though," he teased.

Mark scowled and said, "Oh yeah?  Let's go one more round."
Mark pulled off his own shirt and pulled Shaq back onto the
court.  The two big studs played hard for another 20
minutes, then decided to call it a game.  They headed back
toward the house, talking all the way, making jokes about
the other players on the team, having a good time.

As the two sweaty, shirtless hunks approached the house,
Mrs. Toliver gave them a disapproving frown.  "You two
should really keep your clothes on.  With this breeze,
you're both bound to get chilled to the bone and develop
some nasty bug."

"Sorry, Mrs. Toliver," Mark said.

"You sure like to nag, Mrs. T," Shaq teased.

"Well, someone's got to watch out for the well-being of you
crazy young men.  Now I want you both to get right into the
house and wash all that sweat off."  She gave them a stern
look, and right away they both headed into the house.
Before they could get past the living room to head for the
showers, Mrs. T hollered, "Stop right there!  I won't have
your sweaty clothes stinking up the house.  Give me those
shirts."  Mark and Shaq handed her the shirts they had been
carrying.

"Now the shoes and socks," she ordered.  Shaq moaned in
mock exasperation, but Mrs. T. gave him a light slap on the
cheek and said, "Do as you're told, young man."  Soon their
shoes and smelly socks made their way into Mrs. T's laundry
basket.

"Can we go shower now, Mrs. T?" Shaq asked.

"Off with the shorts!" she commanded.  Mark looked very
embarrassed by this.  Shaq, however, peeled off his workout
shorts without hesitation, revealing a soaking wet purple
jock strap.

"Come on, Dog, you afraid Mrs. T will take a picture of
your crotch?"  Shaq handed his shorts to Mrs. T, then
slowly turned around, bent over, and gave them a nice look
at his huge, muscular ass as he slid out of his jock strap.
Turning back around, Shaq revealed his soft cock, big and
meaty.  He tossed the jock to Mrs. T.  Mark noticed that
she didn't even blink—she must be used to seeing Shaq
naked.  Kind of a weird arrangement these two have, Mark
thought.

Mark wasn't comfortable getting naked in front of the
housekeeper, but Shaq didn't give him any choice in the
matter.  Shaq reached over and pulled down Mark's shorts
and jock before he could protest any further.  Handing
Mark's stuff to Mrs. T, Shaq said, "There you go.  Not so
bad."  Mark's face turned beet red, and he tried his best
to cover his crotch with his hands.

Mrs. T, though, didn't seem interested in looking at Mark's
body.  She turned tail and headed for the laundry room in
the basement.  As she left, she told the guys that she
would bring clothes to them in the bathroom in about ten
minutes.

Shaq put his arm over Mark's shoulder and led him through
the huge house, passing through room after room, some with
big picture windows that exposed their naked bodies to
anyone who might be peeking in.  Luckily, Mark didn't see
any peeping Toms along the way.  He was surprised at how
comfortable Shaq was with walking around the house naked.

Although the house had six full bathrooms, and Mark could
have used any of them to shower, Shaq guided him into his
own personal bathroom.  They had to walk through Shaq's
bedroom to get there.  Mark noticed that Shaq's bedroom
ceiling was covered with mirrors.  Shaq's bed was amazingly
large, far bigger than a king-size, probably custom-made,
Mark figured.  The bedroom walls were covered with ebony
paneling, leading to thick charcoal-colored carpet.  The
bedspread was black, with an intricate charcoal pattern.

In the bathroom, Shaq told Mark to shower first.  They
continued to joke back and forth about different things
while Mark got cleaned up.  Shaq tossed Mark a towel, then
took his place under the spray.  Before long, the two hunks
were clean and dry.  They looked in the bedroom for the
clothes that Mrs. T had promised, but nothing was there.
Shaq buzzed the intercom and asked Mrs. T to bring their
clothes.  She said she would be right up.  Mark and Shaq
waited around in their towels.

"So, what's this survey all about?" Shaq asked.

"Well, Phil wants to know a whole bunch of things about
you.  Some of them are a little embarrassing.  I guess he
figured you'd be more comfortable talking to me than
directly to him about that kind of stuff."

"Whatever," Shaq said.  "Hey Mrs. T," he said as she
appeared at the door empty-handed, "where's our shit?"

"Shaquille, you know I don't like to hear that vile
language.  Now give me your towels."  Shaq and Mark both
grunted in protest, but they really didn't mind giving her
the towels, even though they were now naked in front of her
again.  "I'll take these down to the laundry, then bring up
your fresh clothes in a few minutes."

"I guess we got no choice," Shaq said as Mrs. T headed out.
"She's a strange bitch, but she keeps my life in order.
You know, she picks out my clothes every day.  And she
packs my bags for road trips."

"Really?" Mark asked.

"Oh yeah.  Makes things simple for me.  That's why I pay
her the big bucks," Shaq said.  "Hey, since we're waiting,
how about we do your survey in the Jacuzzi?"

"Sounds good," Mark said.  "I'll need to get my clipboard
and stuff from the living room."  He ran through the house,
his meaty dick flailing back and forth.  Returning, he
found Shaq already in the Jacuzzi.  It wasn't the typical
round Jacuzzi—it was a rectangle, about three feet wide and
six feet across, with a seat on each end.  Mark climbed in,
bumping Shaq's legs.  When he was settled in the bubbling
hot water, he noticed that his knees and calves were
touching Shaq's.  "Pretty tight fit," Mark said.  "You need
a bigger one."

"No, I like it nice and tight," Shaq said with a
mischievous grin.

Mark laughed and said, "Whatever, man."  He turned to his
right to read off the clipboard.  "OK, the first section is
some general questions, where you answer on a scale of one
to ten.  Ready?"  Shaq nodded, so Mark read the first
question.  "Number 1:  How would you rate your personal
happiness, 1 to 10, 10 being happiest?"

Shaq thought for a moment, then said, "Nine."

Mark wrote down this answer on the form, then said, "All
right.  Number 2:  How close are you to reaching your full
potential as a basketball player?  1 to 10, 1 meaning you
have a very long way to go, 10 meaning you can't possibly
get any better than you are now."

Shaq stretched his arms out to the sides of the tub,
showing off his powerful shoulders and triceps.  "Eight."
Mark noticed that Shaq, unlike Kobe Bryant and Rick Fox,
kept his answers short, not providing much in the way of
explanation.  Typical of Shaq, Mark thought—not a big
talker.  He lets his body do the talking.

"OK," Mark continued.  "Number three:  How would you rate
your physical development, the overall condition of your
body, as compared to the other players in the NBA?  1 to
10, 10 being the best in the league."

Shaq sat quietly for a moment, then slowly stood up in the
Jacuzzi.  His tremendously huge body faced Mark, his long,
thick, soft dick only about a foot from Mark's face.  Mark
looked him up and down and was truly impressed.  What a
magnificent body!  Like Hercules, only taller.

"Tell you what," Mark told Shaq, "I'll just write in a 10
for that one.  Now, let's move on to the next section.
This is about the individual parts of your body.  I'll ask
you how you feel about a part of your body, then while you
think of your answer, I'll measure that part of your body."
Shaq continued to stand impassively, right in front of
Mark, so Mark decided to just keep going.

"The first thing is your face," Mark said, looking up at
Shaq.  "I'm going to take measurements, and you decide how
to rate your face, 1 to 10."  Mark then awkwardly stood up
to face Shaq.  Their naked, wet bodies were just inches
apart as Mark reached up and held the measuring tape up to
Shaq's face.  He took the horizontal and vertical
measurements of Shaq's face, plus the dimensions of his
eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.

"Come on, Shaq," Mark said as he sat back down to write the
results on the form.  "Need an answer."

Shaq said, "Eight."

"All right," Mark said.  "Next is your arms.  Give me a one
to ten."  Mark stood back up and measured Shaq's arms,
hands, and fingers.  Gosh, this guy is so huge, Mark
thought to himself.

As he sat down to write in the results, Mark heard Shaq's
low voice:  "Nine."

"OK.  Now your chest."  Mark measured around Shaq's chest
and waist.  This guy is so darn huge, Mark thought.
Writing down the stats, he prompted Shaq for his rating.

"Nine," Shaq said.

"Now you need to turn around, bend over, and hold your
cheeks apart," Mark ordered.  Shaq didn't protest at all,
just slowly turned around and bent over, reaching back to
spread his cheeks for Mark.  Mark measured from the top of
the ass down to the pink hole, which opened up to say
hello.  Leaning back to write down the results, he said,
"Ass, Shaq, gimme your rating."

As he turned back to face Mark, Shaq calmly said, "Nine."

Mark was amazed at how calm Shaq had remained throughout
all of this intimate contact.  He was worried that Mrs. T
might burst into the bathroom and see what was going on.
But he went ahead, saying, "OK, big guy, time to measure
your manhood."  He firmly grabbed Shaq's soft dick in one
hand, then applied the measuring tape.  "Geez, Shaq, this
thing is eight inches long!"

Shaq smiled a little at this.  "Yeah, it's a 10."  He
continued to smile as Mark measured the circumference and
then hefted Shaq's giant balls.

"Well I have to say, Shaq, you've got everybody else beat
in the crotch department," Mark said with a chuckle.  Then
he sat back down in the tub to measure Shaq's thighs,
calves, and feet, all of which rated nine according to
Shaq.

Mark stood back up and said, "That's the end of that
section.  Just one part left."  He started to climb out of
the Jacuzzi, but realized he didn't have a towel.  Shaq
stepped out and walked through to the bedroom door,
dripping everywhere as he went, and buzzed Mrs. T.  About a
minute later, she arrived at the door with fresh clothes
for both men as well as a pile of warm clean towels.

As the two huge men dried themselves, Mrs. T asked, "How is
your project going?"  Shaq only grunted in response, but
Mark told her they were doing fine and had only one section
left.  "Is that right?" Mrs. T asked with a smile.  "Well,
I'll have to help you out with the final section."

Mark turned bright red.  "No, no, thank you, but we can do
it."

"Oh, I'd love to help.  I insist!"  Mrs. T replied.

"Um, well, uh..." Mark was clearly embarrassed.  "The last
part is about, um, sexual stuff.  So Shaq would probably
prefer not to have a woman present."

Shaq put an arm around Mrs. T and said, "No, man, I'd love
to have her help us.  I got no secrets from this bitch."

"Shaquille!" Mrs. T. yelled.  "Don't ever refer to a lady
with such vulgar terms.  Now, Mark, let's get started.
Where shall I sit?"

Mark looked at Shaq in desperation, but Shaq just smiled at
him, so Mark decided to go ahead.  "OK, well, just put the
clothes down on the dresser there.  You can sit in the
chair next to the bed.  Here is my survey and a pencil.
Shaq, you lie down on the bed, face-down, and spread your
legs out."  The big man complied right away, giving Mrs. T
a wink as he hit the bed.  Mark, still embarrassed to be
naked in front of Mrs. T, took his spot between Shaq's
legs.  "OK, Mrs. T, you can ask the questions on the sheet,
and right down Shaq's answers.  Meanwhile, I'll be
massaging different parts of his body."

"All right, boys, let's proceed," Mrs. T said.  "Shaquille,
here is the first question.  At what age did you begin
ma..."  She paused.  "Mark, do I really need to say this
word?"

"No, it's alright ma'am, I'll say it for you.  The word is
masturbating," Mark said.

"Yes," Mrs. T said, only a little flustered.  "At what age
did you begin, doing what Mark said, and what was the
experience like for you?"

As Shaq considered the question, Mark began rubbing Shaq's
upper back.  Shaq let out a low sigh, enjoying the massage.
"Well, Mrs. T, I started spankin' my King Kong Dong back
when I was about 10 years old.  It was lots of fun."

As Mrs. T wrote down the answer, clearly having gotten past
her embarrassment, Mark moved down to Shaq's lower back.
Mrs. T read the next question:  "Have you ever made love
with a woman, and if so, when was the first time, and what
was it like?"

Shaq said, "I fucked my first bitch at age 12.  It was
nice."

Another short and sweet answer from Shaq.  He was breathing
heavily, loving Mark's rubdown.  Mark took this as a sign
that he could move on to Shaq's huge, muscular ass.

Mrs. T finishing writing, then looked up and said, "Next
question:  Have you ever been sexually attracted to another
man, and have you ever had a sexual experience with another
man?"  Mark was amazed that Mrs. T could ask those
questions without batting an eye.

Shaq quietly enjoyed the ass rub for a while, groaning in
pleasure as Mark worked a fingertip into his hole.  "Well,
Mrs. T, as you know, I love the bitches.  But, yeah, I've
been hot for the male of the species before.  I just don't
often meet any males who are big enough to match up with
me.  But Mark here has got me pretty hot at the moment."
With this, Shaq raised himself onto his elbows so his ass
poked out at Mark's face.  Mark was getting pretty hot,
too, and he didn't hesitate to stick two fingers deep into
Shaq's open ass.  Fingerfucking the big stud, Mark was
shocked that Mrs. T could take all of this in without
getting upset.  She calmly wrote down Shaq's response while
he moaned in pleasure.

"All right, the next item is the length of the erect
penis," Mrs. T announced.  Mark reached over to the dresser
to grab his tape while Shaq turned over.  Mark looked back
to find the biggest dick he had ever seen, by far.  It shot
up toward the ceiling, huge, dark, powerful, with a
glistening pink tip poking out of the sexy dark foreskin.
Mark gasped, totally amazed by what he saw.

"Go ahead, man, measure it," Shaq said.  Mark reached down
and took the measurements.

"Shaq, it's huge!" Mark said, awestruck.  "It's 14 inches
long!  Geez, man, that's amazing!"

Mrs. T wrote down the measurements, then said, "Mark, I
don't understand this next question.  Something about
ejacu..."

"Oh right," Mark said, "Ejaculation.  Coach wants me to
measure how far your stuff goes when you shoot.  Let's do
it over here."  He pulled Shaq up and over to the bathroom
door.  "Stand where the floor meets the carpet.

"Dog, you're gonna have to help me out," Shaq said.

"No prob, man," Mark said with a smile.  Pulling in close
behind Shaq, Mark reached around and squeezed Shaq's
nipples while the giant jacked himself off.  Mark stuck his
free hand into Shaq's ass, sending three fingers all the
way inside, then fucking him in and out with the fingers,
building in intensity as Shaq's jacking pace picked up.
Before long, Shaq's humongous cock exploded, sending giant
spurts of cum across the bathroom.  Mark held Shaq while
both men took several deep breaths.  Then Mark removed his
fingers from Shaq's ass and went to do his measuring.

"That's a five-foot seven-inch spurt, "Mark said.  "Got it,
Mrs. T?"

"Yes, young man," Mrs. T replied.  Standing up, she handed
the clipboard and pen to Mark, whose own cock was still
rock hard and bouncing around.  "Now, Shaquille, I'm
heading back downstairs, but I think you should be a good
host and show Mark some thanks for all his work with this
survey."  She disappeared down the hall.

"OK, Dog," Shaq said, leading Mark by the shoulders out
into the bedroom and pushing him gently onto the bed.  "You
deserve this."  As Mark lay back, looking up at his giant
friend, he was truly amazed at how comfortable Shaq had
been with all of this.  Shaq knelt down at the edge of the
bed, then leaned down and, to Mark's surprise, wrapped his
huge lips around Mark's cock!  Mark gasped at this new
sensation.  It was the first blow job of his life!  Shaq
swallowed Mark all the way to the pubes, then started
sucking in and out, in and out, while massaging Mark's big,
juicy balls with his right hand.  With his left hand, Shaq
grabbed hold of Mark's own right hand.  He continued to
hold Mark's hand tight as his suck job got hotter and
hotter.  When Mark blew his load, Shaq didn't pull off—he
drank every drop of Mark's virgin cum.

Slowly letting Mark's softening cock out of his mouth, Shaq
looked up at Mark, who stared back in bedazzled ecstasy.
"This is between you and me, Dog," Shaq said in a serious
tone.

"Oh, you bet, you bet," Mark agreed enthusiastically.  "You
bet.  Just between us.  You know, this was my first,
uh...you know."

"I know, Dog," Shaq replied, standing up and then pulling
Mark up beside him.  "You're a good friend, Dog.  And a
pretty fine ball player, for a white guy."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark said, slapping Shaq on the butt.  "Let's
head back to that Jacuzzi!"

The next morning, Mark stopped by Coach Phil's office to
drop off Shaq's completed survey.  "Why are you smiling so
big, Mad Dog?" Phil asked.

"Well, coach," Mark said, "let's just say I'm really
enjoying your survey project."  He winked at the coach,
then gaily skipped away toward the locker room.


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