Catboy Baseball

"Yo, are these catboys straight?" I mutter to my buddy while uncomfortably adjusting my position on the bench.
"No, of course not." my buddy, Josh, responds with out looking at me, a confused sneer frozen on his face as he watches the baseball team full of catboys roll around on the grass and pounce on each other before bumbling the ball back to the skinny, scared pitcher. He hisses as he picks up the ball as if it's the first time he's had to throw one even though this game has been going on for 3 hours already.
"I don't know." I squirm, "I mean, I... well. I mean I think they could... they could be straight, ya know?"
"Definitely not, man. They're pouncing on each other and hugging each other and licking each other. These dudes are super gay." Josh throws his head back and looks up to the darkening sky. "I was supposed to leave 20 minutes ago."
He has some obligation with his girlfriend no doubt. "Well, ya know. Cats are gay. So maybe you're confusing these catboys with real cats when in fact they're only catboys."
"Nope."
Our batter who's up at the plate backs off and sighs heavily. He slings his bat over his shoulder and calls over to us. "Guys. We just gotta call it. We gotta forfeit."
The pitcher's mound turns into a catboy pile as all the catboys do that thing where cats arch their backs and rub against each other. Some how from this writhing purr pile, the ball launches towards our unprepared batter for another strike, his third. In resigned disbelief, he trudges back to the dugout and sits down on the bench.
"I can't believe it." the out-batter says.
Josh on the bench throws his hat to the ground. "We can't quit, dammit! We can't lose to these fucking catboys!" There's a quaver in his frustrated voice. I think he doesn't understand why exactly he's so upset to be losing to the catboys. Neither do I. I can't understand my feelings towards the catboys either.
Head in his hands, shaking his head, he continues, "These fucking catboys..."
I clear my throat to get his attention and then grab his shoulder. "Yeah, these fucking catboys. Look. The catboys are fucking."
At the pitcher's mound, the purr pile has turned into a fuck pile. The catboys have stripped themselves of their little baseball uniforms and all their lithe, pallid bodies are writhing and grinding together. The meows and hisses and screeches are almost unbearable. Almost...
One of our teammates stands up and walks right on past, present, and future by us, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Jesse? No, man. Don't do it. If they fuck long enough, that's gotta be a forfeit. We can still win this thing."
"S-sorry..." Jesse says. He makes a sound like he was going to say something else, like he was about to justify what he's about to do, but no. He simply strips naked and hops in the cat pile to a chorus of cheerful meows. They welcome him greedily.
I'm drenched in sweat, heart pounding. I feel like I have a fluffy tail curled up in my getting-tighter-by-the-moment pants.
"Josh, I uhh..." I don't want to let him down. I don't want to let the team down, but... It's a fur fuck pile.
Josh sighs, "Just fucking go fuck with the catboys... I'll be there in a minute... I just gotta call my girlfriend and tell her I'll be late..." he says while untying his cleats.
I'm relieved and ashamed, but excited as I hurriedly wrench loose my sweaty uniform. As I stumble in a lustful stupor, practicing my own meow, I hear Josh muttering to himself.
"These fucking catboys got us again."
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