Fourth Base
by Pan
“C’mon, Dad,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. “Just one more level?”
“This is important to me,” his father growled in response.
Eric was a nerd. His father, Ted, was much more of a manly man—tall, broad-shouldered with thick dark hair. By contrast, his son Eric was small, skinny and geeky looking. Even at nineteen, his brown hair was thinning around the temples, making him look older than his age.
He’d always been bullied by other kids for being so nerdy; now that his son was an adult, Ted felt that it was time to do something about it. Eric would be going off to college soon enough, and as his father, it was Ted’s responsibility to teach him how to be a man.
“Come on,” Ted said, insistently nudging his son with his foot. “If you can’t play baseball, people are going to think you’re gay.”
“Right,” Eric replied, then paused, a sly smile on his face. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“Of course not.”
“Well then,” the nerdy teen nodded, throwing down his controller and getting up onto his scrawny legs. “Let’s do this.”
The two men walked out into the backyard, Ted a few steps ahead of his son. At one point he glanced behind him and—just for a second—thought he saw Eric staring at his ass.
No. He must have been imagining things. He sighed, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face.
He loved his son, of course he did. Eric ‘had just come out a little...different.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. But Ted had always struggled to relate to his son, with his X box and his Play Station and his Pro Gramming.
Ted’s greatest fear was that when Eric went off to college, he’d be ostracized. College was where the men were separated from the boys, and—loathe though Ted was to admit it—his son wasn’t a man.
Yet. There was still time.
The pair reached their destination, a large tree near the back fence. Ted handed his son a baseball glove.
Eric stared at it in confusion.
“Today, sport,” Ted said, his voice a low rumble, “I’m going to teach you how to play ball.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Eric was never going to be an athlete like his old man, but this way he could at least understand the basics.
It was a start.
Ted waited for a response from his son, but Eric just continued staring blankly at him.
“Let me show you,” Ted continued. Eric knelt in front of him as he pulled out a pair of balls for his son to handle. He sighed in disappointment as Eric’s soft hand met them; no real man had hands as soft as that. They were the hands of someone who spent all day on a computer, not working.
They reminded him of his wife’s hands.
“Okay pops,” Eric said, looking up at his father with a smile as he fondled the balls. “What next?”
“Listen, champ,” Ted said gently—his son really had no clue. “Bare hands are fine when the balls are just sitting there waiting, but if they came flying at you at full speed, those soft hands of yours would be raw and bloody, maybe even broken.”
Eric nodded his understanding. “So I need to toughen my hands up?”
“Yes,” Ted replied, before a frown crossed his face. “No. You need to wear a glove.”
Tilting his head to the side, Eric looked up at his father, puzzled. His hands had never stopped playing with the set of balls in front of him, gently rubbing and squeezing them.
“Hang on, Dad,” the young man replied. “I thought baseball was all about hitting balls with a bat, not catching them.”
Ted smiled sadly. How had his son almost reached twenty years of age without understanding how baseball worked?
It was a good thing he had a father like Ted to set him straight.
“Let me explain, buddy,” he began, not skipping a beat as his son leaned forward to take the baseballs into his mouth, running his tongue over their wrinkly surfaces. “There are several roles in the game. One team is on offense, and one is on defense. It’s not hard...”
“Not yet,” his son said with a cheeky grin. Ted returned his smile—he didn’t get the joke, but it was nice that Eric was trying—and continued his explanation.
“The offense team are trying to hit the ball and score runs, while the other team tries to stop that from happening.”
“By throwing the ball straight to them? Seems counterproductive.”
“They have to,” Ted said warmly. “It’s the rules.” There was something about the sight of Eric on his knees in front of him, his pale blue eyes staring up as he played with his father’s big balls...it filled Ted with a surge of warmth.
And again, reminded him of Eric’s mother.
Was this…pride? For the first time in his life, was he finally feeling fatherly pride?
Whatever it was, he liked it.
“So the pitcher throws the ball, the batter hits it, and the rest of the team are fielders, trying to catch the ball.”
“Okay,” Eric nodded. “I think I understand.” As he spoke, his hands were gently cupping the heavy balls. “And...who wears the gloves?”
“The fielders,” Ted answered.
“So you’re going to teach me to play the field?”
“That’s where we’ll start,” Ted nodded, and Eric stood up with a smile. For a moment, Ted wondered if his nerdy son was actually going to get this.
“Okay,” the teenager replied. “Let’s do this.”
Ted beamed.
“Put the glove on,” he instructed, and Eric nodded.
“Are you sure I’m ready for this?” the teenager asked, reaching out and nervously toying with the large balls once more. Ted gave him a nod.
“I know you are, champ” he said fondly. “I’m going to show you how to be a man.”
“I bet you will,” Eric replied, once more holding his face like he was in on a joke that his father wasn’t getting. “But before we get into it, can you show me how you’d handle a baseball without a glove?“
Ted opened his mouth to refuse, but something about his son’s face gave him pause. At this rate, they’d barely cover the basics...but it was important to move at a pace that Eric was comfortable with, and it was a reasonable enough request.
Kneeling in front of his son, Ted took the balls into his hand, staring gruffly as he rubbed them, enjoying the feel of the leathery orbs against his rough palm. After several minutes of instruction, he even took them into his mouth (as Eric had), sucking on them as he showed his son how a real man handled balls.
“Great,” Eric finally said, his voice higher than Ted felt any man’s should be. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. How about batting?”
Ted blinked twice. He’d slightly lost track of what they were doing.
“What?” he asked, confused. Where had the glove gone?
“Can you show me how to bat?” Eric repeated, and Ted nodded.
“Of course, son,” he replied after another beat. After all, wasn’t that what they were there for?
Ted got to his feet, and stood beside his son. “The most important thing is the grip,” he began, and Eric nodded earnestly.
“Right,” he continued, as his son wrapped his small hand around the hard bat. “Now, I’ve seen a lot of people hold a bat wrong. They put too much weight on the end, and it makes it hard to swing.”
Ted nodded, and Eric frowned.
“It’s easy, sport.” the older man explained. “You need to use your wrist, not the muscles in your arm.”
Eric looked up, nodding.
“Like this?”
Ted gasped as Eric began using his wrist, impressed by his son’s quick grasp of the fundamentals. Perhaps his son was more of a man than he’d thought.
“That’s it! Now, it’s vital that you really get comfortable with the bat. You want it to feel like a natural extension of yourself.”
Ted reached down and put his own hand over his son’s, smiling at him fondly. This was the sort of father-son bonding moment he’d always wanted. To his surprise, Eric seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as his old man was.
For the next two minutes, Ted showed his son the correct way to position his body, the warm feeling of pride growing by the moment.
“Legs slightly spread,” he said with a grunt. His warmth was building up inside him, and he felt like he was going to burst at any moment. “Stick your chest out, buddy. And make sure you keep the bat low.”
“Like this, Dad?” Eric replied, tilting his head to the side. Ted nodded, then met his son’s smile.
“Okay, let me try.”
Ted released his hand, watching with a mixture of pride and concern as his son took a few practice swings.
“You’ll need to be fast when the ball arrives,” he reminded Eric. “Fast. Fast and...oh, god, yes, just like that...”
The older man trailed off, enjoying his son’s aptitude with the bat. For the next minute, neither of them said anything, Eric skillfully using his wrist as his father’s face turned redder and redder.
Finally, Ted let out a strangled cry, throwing his hand onto his son’s shoulder. He felt so proud of him...so proud of his son’s talent with the bat. His hips thrust forward in pride, and he felt like he was going to cry.
“How did I do, Dad?” Eric asked, looking up at his father with a soft smile.
“You did okay, champ” Ted replied with a grunt. Eric’s face fell.
“Just okay?”
“Well...”
In truth, Ted’s son had exceeded his wildest expectations. With that sort of talent, he knew his son could be a professional. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, a deep sense of shame had filled his body, and he glanced down at the bat in his son’s hand.
It had looked so much larger just a few minutes ago.
“You did okay,” he repeated. “But it takes a real man to—“
“Show me,” Eric interrupted, his pale blue eyes staring coolly into his father’s. “Show me how you’d do it.”
Ted nodded. It was the only fair thing to do. Reaching down, he grabbed the smaller bat that his son presented him with.
“What you want to do,” he began, wrapping his large, calloused fingers around the bat. “Is you want to grip it like this.”
Ted demonstrated, and Eric nodded.
“Okay,” he said, his head tilted to the side. “I thought I was doing that.”
“Well, yes,” his father admitted. “But....you see how I’m gripping the bat lower? And not pulling it back so far?”
“Mm-hmm,” Eric replied through gritted teeth. Ted shot his son a glance—the teenage boy was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed.
“That’s it,” Ted continued. “Now, you’re going to have to get used to a lot of things. The way you grip the bat will depend on the situation. If you’re up against a knuckleballer, you don’t need to pull your hands back as far....”
“Keep going,” Eric gasped.
“Against a fireballer—that’s a power pitcher—you want to hold the bat a little higher.”
“Okay...”
Ted grinned. His son was really getting into it.
“Now, if you’re up against a fastball, you want to pull the bat as far back as you can.”
As his father delivered his wisdom, Eric let out a long sigh.
“I don’t think I get it,” he said bashfully, and his father stroked his chin (while continuing to stroke his son’s bat) in confusion.
“What’s wrong, kiddo?”
“I mean...”
Eric hesitated, and Ted shot him a look. “Tell me,” he insisted. “I’m your father. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you learn this kind of stuff.”
“Anything?” Eric said, a gleam in his eye. Ted nodded.
“Anything.”
“Well,” the teenager said slowly. “Maybe I’d understand if you...used your mouth.”
“To...explain it?”
The young man nodded. “Something like that.”
Ted was confused as Eric reached out, put his hand on his father’s head, and forcefully pushed until Ted was on his knees in front of his son.
Before he could say anything, Eric turned around. “Give me your hand,” he instructed, and Ted obeyed, unsurprised when his son used it to reach around until it was once more gripping his bat.
“Now,” Eric said, facing away from his father. “Tell me again. Slowly. Softly. Directly into my...ear.”
For a moment, Ted thought his son had said ‘rear’, but of course that didn’t make any sense.
“So, bucko, what you have to do,” he began, but Eric cut him off.
“Closer.”
Ted leaned forward. “First, you...”
“Closer,” Eric hissed, grabbing his father’s head and forcing it forward. Everything went dark as Ted’s face was firmly pushed against his son’s...ear.
“Mmph-hmmph,” he began, and Eric let out a long shudder of pleasure.
“Yes, pops,” he groaned. “Just like that. Explain with...with your tongue...”
Confused—but willing to do whatever he could to help his son—Ted used his tongue as he explained to Eric exactly how to master the stroke, demonstrating on his son’s bat as he did.
He wasn’t quite sure how his son was able to understand his instructions, but the young lad’s enthused reactions told him that he was definitely following (and greatly enjoying) his father’s efforts.
It wasn’t long before Eric began shaking uncontrollably. He grabbed Ted’s hand, gripping it as he let out a long moan of satisfaction.
“I get it!” he gasped. “Dad, I...I get it. I get baseball!”
Ted smiled.
“That’s great, son,” he said, and Eric gave him a nod.
“Thanks, Dad.” he replied, his voice cracking.
The two men stood there for the next few minutes, a sense of shared satisfaction between them. Finally, Eric’s eyes shot open.
“Oh, shit! Dad!”
Ted’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“We forgot to stretch.”
“Well, you don’t really need to...”
The older man trailed off, pursing his lips thoughtfully. A practice as relaxed as this wouldn’t typically require much stretching, but...well, Eric’s exercise routine typically consisted of ‘get up, turn on X Station, play for twelve hours straight.’
Maybe a quick stretch wouldn’t be completely out of order.
“All right,” Ted nodded. “Let’s warm up.”
“Awesome,” Eric replied, his face brightening.
The pair got into position, Ted taking his place behind his son.
“I really need this,” Eric said. “You do too, Dad.”
“I do?”
“Mm-hmm,” Eric giggled. Ted often wished that he had a son who didn’t giggle, but...well, you play the hand you’re dealt. “You’re so stiff.“
“Uh huh,” the older man nodded, before talking the teenager through some simple stretches. He placed his hands on his son’s body, positioning him as he wanted, his coarse hands roaming across Eric’s spindly arms and legs.
Just as with the batting, Eric was a quick learner, and within five minutes, Ted could see that his son’s body had loosened up. He was feeling more relaxed himself; he’d always thought of stretching as something to get through. It was similar enough to yoga that he always saw it as unmasculine…but as they moved their bodies in unison, his flesh pressed against his son’s, Ted had to admit that he could feel the benefits.
“Okay,” Eric sighed. “Why don’t you take me to fourth base?”
“Home base, son,” Ted corrected gently. “There’s no such thing as fourth base.”
“I meant the stretch,” Eric said, leaning forward and reaching behind himself. “I’ll talk you through it.”
Ted narrowed his eyes in confusion. He wasn’t following what his son meant, but they’d had such a great time bonding, he didn’t want it to devolve into a fight.
The warm feeling of pride he’d experienced earlier had been so powerful, so intense...he’d do almost anything to feel it again. And somehow, he knew that Fourth Base would get him there.
Sure enough, as Ted followed his son’s instructions, letting out a deep sigh as he leaned into the stretch, the feeling of warmth returned.
It felt good. Better than he thought a stretch could feel. For all his judgment of his son’s un-sporty ways, perhaps there was something Ted could learn from Eric.
“And back and forth,” Eric grunted, breathing heavily. Ted was surprised by how much exertion his son had to put into what was a fairly simple stretch. The downside of being out of shape, he supposed.
They’d have to do this more, before Eric went to college. Make a man of him.
He was surprised by how much pleasure the idea filled him with.
Ted continued taking his son to fourth base...no, that couldn’t be the term. His son must’ve gotten it wrong.
Ted continued stretching with his son, resting his hands on Eric’s bare hips, thrusting forward repeatedly. The stretch was one of those ones that started to spread throughout the whole body; before long, Ted could feel his legs tingling, then his toes. He started breathing more heavily as well, suddenly aware of his heart pounding, his dry mouth.
“Almost…done…” Eric groaned, and not a moment too soon. Ted lost control, his body twitching, before he felt a moment of complete release.
“Oh, godddd…” he let out in a loud moan. Was this why women did yoga? For this feeling of ecstasy, brought about by a simple stretch?
Or was it because he was sharing the moment with his son? Ted suddenly realized how much he loved Eric, how proud of him he was. He wanted to do this again and again, spending more time with his son, learning whatever he could from the bright young man.
The world went white for a moment, and when it swam back into view, Ted realized that his son was groaning as well. He released the teenage boy, and Eric collapsed onto the ground in front of him, panting with exertion.
“I think that’s enough for today, sport.” Ted offered, suddenly feeling gruff. Shy, almost.
Eric just nodded.
“Pity we didn’t get to actually hitting a ball,” his father chuckled. “Still, how about we try again later?”
“Sure thing, Dad,” Eric replied with a shy smile. “I’m happy to practice with you every day until I leave.”
Ted nodded, then surprised himself with the next words that come out of his mouth. “And...maybe you can show me some of those video games you love so much, sport.”
Eric’s face lit up, and Ted felt his stomach tighten with pride. He loved making his son happy; just the sight of the young man’s smile was enough to fill him with warmth.
“That sounds great, Dad.”
In response, Ted leaned over, and did something he realized that he should have been doing for years, giving his son a long, loving kiss.
They only had a few days left together, but he planned on making the most of them.
He’d make a man out of his son yet.
* * *