Knees weak, palms are sweaty, mom's spaghetti

The Soccer Match – A Daughter’s Corruption Spreads

The afternoon sun blazed over Torino’s Juventus Training Ground, its emerald-green pitch stretching beneath a cloudless sky. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and the sharp tang of sweat as Rebecca’s team—Torino’s Women’s Juvenile Squad—warmed up for their practice match.

Rebecca tugged at the hem of her compression shorts, her thighs burning from the morning’s activities, her cunt still throbbing with the ghost of her father’s cock. The mark on her abdomen pulsed faintly, a slow, insistent thrum beneath her skin, as if reminding her of its presence.

Act normal.

Just act normal.

But how could she, when every sprint sent a fresh trickle of her father’s cum down her inner thigh? When every stretch made her ache in ways she’d never ached before?

A whistle cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

“Bianchi! Quit dawdling and get your ass in line!"

Rebecca’s head snapped up to see Coach Valentina Bassi glaring at her, her dark eyes narrowed beneath the brim of her cap. The woman was a legend—former Serie A goalkeeper, her frame still muscular despite her retirement, her voice carrying the same iron authority that had once commanded entire stadiums.

"S-sorry, Coach!" Rebecca stammered, jogging into position.

Valentina’s gaze lingered on her, her lips thinning.

"You’re moving like you’ve got a stick up your ass," she remarked, her tone dry.

Rebecca’s face burned.

If only she knew.

The Warm-Up

The drills began—agility ladders, high knees, side shuffles—each movement sending fresh waves of sensation through Rebecca’s body. The redhead vixen's shorts clung to her damp skin, the fabric riding up her plush thighs, the outline of her bubble butt more pronounced than ever.

"F-Fuck..."

She caught Lucia, their star striker, staring at her ass during a water break.

"The hell you looking at?" Rebecca muttered, her soft contralto sharper than intended.

Lucia smirked, her dark ponytail swaying as she leaned against the cooler.

"Since when’s your ass that fat, Becca?”

Rebecca’s fingers tightened around her water bottle.

"It’s not."

Lucia laughed, low and knowing.

"Uh-huh. And why’s it jiggling every time you run?"

Rebecca’s stomach twisted.

"Shut up."

But Lucia wasn’t alone.

Giada, their midfielder, nudged her during the next drill, her hazel eyes flicking downward.

"You sure you didn’t get laid last night?" she whispered, her grin wicked.

Rebecca’s breath hitched.

"W-what?"

Giada’s smirk widened.

"You’re walking like it."

Rebecca’s entire body flushed, her pulse hammering.

"I—I didn’t—"

Giada laughed, bumping her hip against Rebecca’s.

"Liar."

The Corrupt Mark

The practice match began, the ball cracking against cleats as Rebecca took her position—right wing, the redhead vixen’s usual spot. She should have been focused.

But every sprint, every cut, every jolt of movement sent fresh heat pooling between her thighs.

And the mark—

The womb tattoo thrummed harder, as if reacting to her exertion.

What the hell is happening to me?

She didn’t realize how obvious it was until Sofia, their center-back, grabbed her during a throw-in.

"Rebecca," she hissed, her grip tight on Rebecca’s wrist. "You’re dripping."

Rebecca’s stomach dropped.

"I—I’m sweating—"

Sofia’s dark eyes burned into hers.

"Bullshit. I smell it."

Rebecca’s throat closed.

"S-Sofia—"

Sofia’s fingers dug in.

"Who fucked you?"

Rebecca flinched, her body betraying her as her cunt clenched around nothing.

"N-no one—"

Sofia laughed, low and dark.

"Liar."

The whistle blew again, cutting through the tension.

“Bianchi! Focus or get the hell off my field!" Coach Valentina’s shrill tenor was a snarl.

Rebecca nodded frantically, her slender body alight, the pale vixen's thoughts scattered.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

The Locker Room

The post-practice showers were a **** Rebecca hadn’t prepared for.

Steam curled through the tiled room, the scent of soap and sweat thick in the humid air. Rebecca kept her back to the wall, her towel clutched tight around her chest, her body throbbing with every heartbeat.

She couldn’t undress.

Not with the mark on display.

Not with the stickiness between her thighs.

But Lucia wasn’t having it.

"The hell are you hiding for?" she demanded, striding over, the tall athlete's toned body glistening under the spray of her shower.

Rebecca’s fingers dug into her towel.

"I—I’m not—"

Lucia yanked the fabric away before Rebecca could stop her.

The entire locker room froze.

Rebecca’s porcelain skin was flushed pink, her hips fuller, her thighs thicker, her ass rounder—

And the mark—

The Ouroboros coiled over her womb, its golden lines glinting in the fluorescent light.

"Holy shit," Giada breathed.

Lucia’s fingers traced the mark before Rebecca could slap her hand away.

"What the fuck is this?"

Rebecca’s pulse spiked, her body burning.

"N-none of your business—"

Lucia’s smirk was predatory.

"Did someone brand you, Bianchi?”

Rebecca’s stomach twisted.

"I—I have to go—"

She couldn't endure things anymore, the womb tattoo pulsed in synch with the redhead beauty's wild heartbeat, she barely grabbed her towel and bolted, the girls’ laughter echoing behind her.

The Aftermath

Rebecca dressed in a blur, her fingers shaking, her body alight.

She didn’t notice Coach Valentina leaning against the lockers until the woman spoke.

“Bianchi.”

Rebecca jumped, her green eyes wide.

"C-Coach—"

Valentina’s gaze was unreadable.

"My office. Now."

Rebecca’s stomach dropped.

Oh God.

She knows.

She has to know.