FP Chapter 7

You never thought that your worst nightmare would have such a magnificent rack. Watching those things bounce as Carly prances around pretending to be in charge is about the only upside to this dumpster fire. Being at the Lodge is supposed to be a privilege, but you would almost prefer loser camp.

You took being the boss for granted.

Carly has you and everyone else up at dawn and running through the woods. Miles later, she has you running drills on the lawn.

You know what she’s doing. She can’t watch everyone all the time, so she’s making sure that you’re all so dead ass tired that nobody can even think a lewd thought. You’re all going to just pass out and die.

But this isn’t just a pain in the dick, it’s bad soccer.

You had a match yesterday. Everyone is already tired. Running miles through the woods is dangerous, and it risks injury because of rocks, roots, and tripping hazards. Doing drills on a lawn instead of a field is just as bad, but Carly is ruthless. No breaks. She doesn’t even let you eat until lunchtime.

Your team has been through some shit, and you have delivered some fearsome punishment during the past weeks, but you’ve never seen them all so miserable. Lara can’t even make jokes about last night; she’s gasping along with everyone else, and she’s climbed mountains and done adventures and stuff. This is madness.

“You have to do something,” Sam pants to you in the locker room. She’s speaking for the team, and you know it. Carly’s already in the showers, yelling for the rest of you to hurry up. She wants to do Bible study all afternoon, then run another five miles before dinner.

“Distract her,” you tell her.

“Roger. Fill me up later,” she says.

“You mean fill you in?”

She winks at you and peels off her panties to trot naked into the shower. “Carly! I mean, Captain! I’ve got a rash on my tits. Can you look at it?”

“Great,” you mutter, gesturing for the others to huddle. It is the least erotic naked, sweaty huddle ever. “Girls, you’ve noticed, right?”

“That she’s horrible?” Lili says poutily.

“That she’s horrible at soccer,” you correct her. “Let’s not let her forget that. Be casual about it, but it’s time to show off. It’s time to show her the difference between her and us.”

It’s a good plan, but it takes time to get off the ground. Bible study doesn’t allow your team a lot of opportunities to discreetly draw Carly’s attention to her own shortcomings. Neither does running… until you turn it up. It’s difficult, but you can do it. Carly calls out for you to slow down, but with crunching leaves and a dozen panting girls around, it’s easy to pretend that you don’t hear her.

You get the team to the end of the run, where you have to wait for her to catch up. And she’s a mess when she arrives. You feel a lot of satisfaction when you see her looking worried. It’s a good plan. You’ve found their weakness: Holly and Dolly were able to find people who agree with their beliefs and are loyal, but they couldn’t find people like that who are also dynamite athletes.

That night, as Carly lies exhausted on her bed, unable to move from soreness and exhaustion, you walk around as though this is totally normal. You’re also topless and wearing just your briefs, with bulge and everything showing. You didn’t dry off after your shower, so your white underwear has soaked through and turned translucent.

After about the fourth time you catch her looking, she speaks up.

“Can you put something on?” she asks, trying to keep her eyes on the ceiling and off your package.

“Carly, don’t be a tyrant. You can make us cover up at the cabin because we’re in front of everyone. It’s hot,” you say, fanning your face with your hand. “It’s just us. Let me be. You act like you never saw a naked girl before.”

The problem is that Carly isn’t evil. She’s actually very sweet, and she believes that what she’s doing is right. You aren’t so sure about Holly and Dolly. And even if you feel a little bad about it, you are not about to go easy on Carly. Your team’s success is at risk here. She will lead you to disaster if you don’t unseat her. Your girls are counting on you.

That’s why you turn up the heat. You get the girls to outperform her in workouts. She doesn’t have the endurance to keep up. You get a little fancy in practice, making her feel bad about her inability to pull off sophisticated moves. A few of the girls even twist the knife, making offhanded comments in the cabin. Some make her nervous about her appearance, while others constantly praise you, which Carly can only interpret as complaining.

You make sure that everyone is compliant, and no one does anything bad enough to get into trouble over.

The plan’s going great until Monday afternoon. You’re practicing on the field until you hear Tiff’s whistle. You and the others jog in, seeing Holly and Dolly approaching together. Dolly’s looking delicate in her summer dress, and Holly’s looking jacked in her eighties gym teacher outfit. Holly is carrying a cardboard box.

“Got a present for you,” she says cheerfully, setting it down.

Everyone gathers around. Inside are… sweatshirts. Not even hoodies. Just crewneck sweatshirts. They’re black and say PINK TEAM on them, with the FUTA logo. They are, uh…

“What the bloody hell is this?” Lara demands, holding one up.

“What’s it look like?” Dolly replies. “Aren’t they cute? Put them on.”

“Put them on? Black sweatshirts in the summer? Are you guys insane?” you demand, but Carly is already pulling one over her head.

“I think you’ll be glad that we’re doing this,” Holly says with a big grin. “Let’s be real. There’s a big, uh, jiggle factor in all of this. It’s distracting. And demeaning.” She points at the nearby cameras. “The way that they’re all over it. Let’s take some power back.”

“This isn’t taking power back. This is suicide. Beach volleyball players don’t wear sexy swimsuits to turn you on, they wear it because it’s fucking hot out!” you rage.

“Whoa! Language! Let’s put that back in a box,” Dolly says, patting your head condescendingly. “It’s OK, Riley. Carly tells me you’re an incredible athlete. You can probably work out in anything.”

Within minutes, you and the others are steaming… literally… as you watch Holly and Dolly walk away. This is gross.

“I love it,” Carly says, sweat streaming down her face as she looks down at her new sweatshirt.

“Tonight,” Lara says to you through gritted teeth, and you nod. She’s right.

It’s time for the gloves to come off.