The Mighty Casey
Written by fifteen

- INTRODUCTION -

Why had fortune been so cruel to Stan Hopper? This was the question that Stan himself pondered one warm spring evening. His father had spent years coaching him on the art of playing baseball, the two of them not returning from the local diamond until long after sundown. But those dreams had been shattered along with his knee in a motorcycle accident. It left him with a noticeable limp but worse it had taken his dream away.

Over the years, the dream had changed. If he couldn't play in the majors, his son would! But he saw that dream fall away when he looked through the nursery window at his new baby: A daughter. Stan considered the birth of a daughter a traitorous act on the part of his wife and held her responsible for denying him a son. When she could take no more, she divorced him but gave him sole custody of their daughter out of spite. Now the dream had changed again: If he couldn't play in the majors and he couldn't have a son in the majors, he would have the first daughter in the majors!

- CHAPTER ONE -

"That was an easy grounder! You've got to get your body in front of it!" Stan screamed.

"Sorry! It's getting hard to see out here!" Casey called back to her father as she scrambled after the ball.

"Alright, maybe it is getting a bit dark," he finally conceded when he began to have trouble seeing the ball as she threw it back to him. Still, he hated to call it a night so early; Casey needed the practice! "Okay, I counted eleven errors," Stan said as he pulled his belt from his pants.

"Eleven? No, it was only ten!" Casey argued, tears already forming in her eyes as she unzipped her shorts and dropped them to the ground. "You made a wild throw back to me," Stan said firmly. It had actually been a good throw, he just hadn't been able to see it in the darkness but Casey knew better than to press her argument as she bent over and grabbed her ankles.

WHACK!

"ONE!" Casey called out as the belt left a red welt across her naked ass. She hated this. All of it. She hated practicing, she hated baseball and she hated her father! But most of all, she hated being punished for every little error she committed on the field. When she had been younger, it had been a spanking on the outside of her pants. When she turned eight, he had begun bare ass spankings. Now that she had turned twelve, he whipped her with the belt.

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

"FOUR!" she found herself calling out from between gritted teeth. Luckily, he only whipped her hard enough to leave welts, never permanent marks.

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

But the worst thing for Casey as she turned twelve was not the whippings, it was developing breasts. Though thin and lean-muscled from the countless hours of baseball practice, her breasts had popped out like two grapefruit on her chest. While not huge, they were big enough to throw off her balance and make pitching more difficult. She had to work much harder just to maintain her previous levels.

WHACK!

WHACK!

"E-E-E-ELEVEN!" Casey sobbed as the whipping finally came to an end and she was allowed to stand up.

"You know, I've been thinking more about that breast surgery. It sure would help you on those grounders," Stan remarked as his daughter flinched from the pain of pulling up her shorts.

"Daddy, please! I don't want to have them chopped off!" Casey cried. She hated it when her father brought the surgery up. He didn't want to just get them reduced, he wanted them gone! "Well, we'll see…".....(cont)