The moon hangs high in the sky, exactly where it always does: directly in front of the sun. It is “night” in Houston, and the Spies are either sleeping or have left mannequins in their beds. The locker room lies empty, save for one set of bright cyan twintails. The telltale rapid beeping of someone entering their 32-digit Authenticating Secret for Spies code echoes off the walls. The red glow, then the friendly beep of a retinal scan lights up the room for an instant. A prerecorded voice welcomes Miki Santana to her locker.
And, crucially, a hidden camera whirs to life, peering through the strings in her guitar bat. Halfway across the city, a monitor clicks on. The electron gun in an aging CRT dutifully reproduces the Spies home run idol in night vision green. A few keystrokes later, and a livestream begins on ████tube.co█.
Miki blows a kiss to the hidden camera. She’s dressed in her traditional blaseball outfit. Her custom snapsides cap lets her twintails dangle freely. Her uniform is padded around the chest to make her bust look bigger, and the steel blades lining the hem of her skirt give it the weight it needs to really show off Miki’s lack of underwear whenever she spins. Unless you count the cyan ribbon tied in a cute little bow around her cock as “underwear”.
And Miki loves to spin. She’ll twirl on her heel while figuring out what to say after “Gosh, blaseball fans, I sure did strike out a lot today. I wonder what my punishment should be?” She’ll twirl around to break the lock on the cheerlorder uniform storage with a perfectly whistled 2581 Hz1 tone, then return with one in her size. She even twirls while unbuttoning the top from her blaseball uniform so the force throws it across the room. She makes a big show out of blowing a kiss to it and waving good-bye as her top sails offscreen. Her skirt falls to the floor and Miki sends it flying by kicking her left leg clear over her head. If you’re watching the stream and wanted Miki Santana’s cock front, center, and dripping, you got your wish. She unwraps this first little present to the fans with a single, effortless tug. “Do you like it? I got it just for you!”
She holds the cheerlorder outfit against her chest. She twirls around to demonstrate the flowing nature of the outfit. Dark, flowing robes with SPIES printed across the chest in big block letters. The sort of outfit one might expect from a spy or a cultist. “Hmmm, maybe I would make a better cheerlorder? I’ve been such a bad batter.” She throws her hip out to the side and taps her finger against her chin. She steps into the skirt and slowly pulls it up over her legs. The waistband rises up until it catches against her cock and ass. Another twirl to make sure everyone watching gets a 360 degree view of her upright, dripping cock and the ass spilling over the waistband. “Oops, guess this one’s too small.” The skirt slowly slides over her hips. A few drops of precum drip onto the skirt, an exaggerated moan fills the air, and everything below her waist vanishes. Well, except for the tent she’s pitching. There’s not a robe flowing enough to hide how aroused Miki is at this moment.
Miki pretends to have a similarly hard time getting the top over her chest. She spends like five minutes acting like she can’t quite get the top over her modestly-sized chest and filling the Spies locker room with musical moans before finally tugging the top on and adjusting her twintails back into place.
Little known blaseball fact: cheerlorder skirts are adjustable by tugging at a hidden length of razor wire spiraling up its length. Perfect for stunts, playful on-field fights, and, in this case, Miki Santana shedding a full two feet of material and twirling around in a skirt so mini, you can absolutely see the tip of her cock dribbling precum onto the floor. “Much better.” She tosses a wink at the hidden camera and grabs a blaseball bat from offscreen.
“Alexandriaaaah~” She grinds the bat between her thighs. Her big hazel eyes water and snap shut. Being overwhelmed with bliss does that to you. “A-Alex! Alex! She’s the best! Slug your hands against my chest! Grope me hard and fuck my ass, take this cheerful slut to class! Teach me how to bat like you, fuck me ‘til I can’t come to! Goooooo, Spies!” Miki’s panting and cheering echoes off the smooth locker room walls. There’s not a quiet square inch in the whole facility while she grinds herself ever closer to orgasm against her teammate’s bat.
She pins one of her twintails against the locker room bench with her foot and mashes the other one against the ground with her bat. Her breaths get shorter. “T-tug my hair and yank it hard! Make me sing like I’m your bard! Force my ass over your dick or fuck my throat- please take your pick! Goooooo Spiaaaahahn~!” And that’s all it takes for her to collapse into an orgasm-wracked mess on the floor, uselessly humping the bat between her legs to eke out just a few more moments of bliss.
As the live stream fades to black on Miki Santana, lying in a pool of her own cum, she chants out a surprisingly clear, final “Always Watching! Goooo Spies!”
Miki Santana staged an incineration on day 76 of Season 3. Rumor has it she skipped town under a false name and is enjoying herself on a beach somewhere.
Miki Santana, like most blaseball stars, had a troubled road to the big leagues. I dare you to be the alleged daughter of two renowned, blaseball gods-fearing musicians and not develop perfect pitch2 before you skip town at night with a one way bus ticket to Houston. ↩
“Perfect pitch” as in the music thing. Miki is a lousy blaseball pitcher. ↩