“You guys ready for evening exercises?” Brie asked. All the men started hooting and hollering, running to grab any needed clothing items and putting them on quickly as they congregated around Brie's feet. Warily Paul made his way as well; he didn't have any athletic clothes himself—just the casual wear he picked up at Sarah's—but he still joined them.
“Thirteen, that's everybody!” Brie said with a smile. Paul and Peter were counted among that number, and Peter looked just as much out of place as Paul. Peter was by far the shortest of the group and he was even scrawnier than Paul. Just as with Barney, Paul had known about Peter for years; he was ubiquitous wherever Brie went and almost never left her side. Paul remembered Brie's school days when she would get in trouble for sneaking Peter into the school, and more than once Doris had to remind Brie that there were no companions allowed at the dinner table.
“Follow me, Mashers!” Brie commanded, and walked into the living room. While it only took a few steps for her it was a good walk for all the others. Lining up in two rows the team jogged in formation across the floor, chanting “Mash-ERS, Mash-ERS” with each step. Even Peter joined in on this so Paul did too as to not be singled out.
They marched through the doorway and onto the expensive and well-maintained practice pitch. Kyle, who was leading the group, held up his hand to halt the team when they reached the middle of the pitch. The came to a halt with a resounding “HUAH!”, turning ninety degrees to the right to face Brie.
Brie clapped her hands appreciatively and gave a little giggle. “Very good!” Brie said. She got down on the floor facing her team, chin resting on her hands. Her eyes were like another pair of spotlights lighting up the pitch. “Now line up for your stretches.”
As the team spread out several of them started laughing at Paul. “Joining the team, worm?” One of them asked. Paul was confused until he realized that Peter had broken off from the team and was now standing by the sidelines preparing water bottles and towels for the players. To Paul's embarrassment he realized he should have peeled off with him and not tried to follow the team of muscle-bound men to their exercises.
Paul tried to leave but Brie said: “No, you can stay, Paul, let's see what you've got!” More jeers and laughs followed with Brie's encouragement. Humiliated, Paul stayed. The group of them got down on their hands and knees and started doing push-ups, chanting the numbers as they went along. Paul knew how to do a push-up but he couldn't keep up with the pace the group was setting. They switched to crunches and a few other exercises, but Paul quickly became gassed. While he played baseball casually in school Paul was by no means an athlete, let alone one who could keep pace with these men who had literally been bred for sports.
“Come on Paul, you can do it!” Brie mocked him as he fell further and further behind the group. The teammates laughed and made mocking noises as sweat pooled on Paul's brow. Paul couldn't decide if the most humiliating thing was the fact that the other men weren't even breaking a sweat or Brie's laughing face hanging over him.
“All right, good!” Brie said. The eleven teammates hopped up almost immediately, a chorus of jeers and derisive laughing rang out as Paul struggled to his feet. “That's all right, you tried your best.” Brie said in a falsely sympathetic voice, eliciting more laughter. “Go over with Peter, maybe you can join the team next year.”
Out of breath, sweating, and feeling like dirt Paul walked across the pitch to where Peter was standing. Peter looked at him with a smarmy, self-satisfied look. “Really, you were thinking about joining the military?”
Paul was too winded to make any kind of retort towards the scrawny man. On the pitch the team started their drills while Peter set up. “Get ready to give them towels,” Peter instructed him. Very close to them was Brie's elbow—she was propping herself up and watching the men practice with a big smile on her face. It was clear she enjoyed the movements of their muscular, athletic bodies, and it gave Paul no small amount of discomfort to realize Brie's cleavage was on full display to the players and she knew it.
Soon the players came over to get water and towels. More insults were thrown Paul's way. Then it was time to take out the balls; they were stored in a small bin at the side of pitch. “Get ready to run,” Peter said with a little grin. Paul didn't know what he meant but would soon find out.
Once in a while as the players were practicing the balls would be kicked out of bounds and Peter and Paul were expected to go get them. On the far side of the room the wall was close by so the balls usually just bounced back, but there was plenty of room on the near side for the balls to bounce well out of playing range. If a ball bounced towards Brie she might give it a little flick with the side of her pinkie to send it back into the playing range, but usually Pete or Paul was expected to chase it.
Paul found himself getting exahusted fairly quickly and he wondered how Peter handled this on his own all this time before Paul arrived. Eventually Peter settled on Brie's left side and Paul on her right, and Paul couldn't help but notice far more balls were bouncing out of bounds on his side of the pitch. They seemed to be deliberately trying to make Paul run, and Brie didn't take any measure to put a stop to this even though these intentional misses were undoubtedly detracting from their practicing.
One ball actually bounced off of Brie's arm and came to a stop almost directly under Brie's chin. He thought for sure she was going to bat it back but instead she just looked over at Paul and said: “Aren't you going to get that?”
Horrified, Paul noticed the ball was only inches away from Brie's cleavage. Her shirt hung open and her tits hung there, extended from her body somewhat by gravity. They were round and soft and mammoth, and they belonged to his sister. Paul reluctantly made his way over there, knowing Brie was only doing this to utterly humiliate him. In the shadow of her body Paul could feel the heat coming from her chest—with her shirt open it was almost like the entry to a warm cave. But he grabbed the ball and ran back to the field, chucking it to the players.
The practice seemed to go on and on and the men showed no sign of stopping, though at least now they were working up quite a sweat. Paul's empty stomach was groaning and his legs were howling at him, but still they continued to practice. After a good while Brie finally called for the group to take it in, and Paul followed Peter's lead and joined them.
Brie looked down at the group of sweaty men with an excited face that Paul never wanted to see on his sister's face again. “Excellent practice, you guys! Great job with the balls, Paul.” Laughter and derisive noise followed; one of them clapped him on the back so hard with his meaty hand that Paul's knees almost buckled.
“What do you think about a protein shake?” Brie asked. The athletes cheered in approval, and Brie got up to walk past the tinyroom and into the kitchen on the other side. There were sounds of a blender running as the athletes made jokes and shoved each other a little. A few minutes later Brie re-emerged with a glass of a chunky, brownish liquid. Brie took a big swig herself before casually placing the glass on the floor and knocking it over so the shake spilled out onto the floor ahead of them.
The men all pounced on the chunky drink like pigs at a trough causing Brie to laugh. Paul didn't want to join in; this was undignified, even after all he head been through, but he was very hungry and didn't want to be the only one left out. He knelt down and cupped a portion of the shake in his hand. It was so thick that it didn't run through his fingers. He half-drank half-chewed the shake—it didn't taste that bad, and to Paul's stomach it was the elixir of life.
The other men were acting like animals slamming handfulls of the shake into their face while shoving each other, completely messing up their clothes. This animalistic feeding and roughhousing was definitely amusing Brie; and Paul had no doubt they were doing this as a show to her. On the other side of the puddle of shake two of the athletes had grabbed a third and tossed him directly into the puddle. Everyone laughed at him as he lay there covered in liquid.
Brie wasn't mad. Instead she reached out her hand and using her thumb and forefinger she picked the shake-soaked athlete off the ground. She held him high up over her mouth, everyone below starting to make a rising “Ooooo” sound. Brie opened her mouth and the rest of the men let out a resounding cheer as he disappeared between her lips and she closed her mouth.
Paul was horrified to see an entire man disappear into his sister's mouth, especially knowing that man could easily be him. Paul's eyes were fixed on Brie's cheeks as she swished him around. After a full thirty seconds of licking and sucking on him she opened her mouth and pulled him out, now covered in saliva and the remains of the shake. His teammates gave him a good cheer when she placed them down.
The men continued playing with their food, throwing it at each other and smashing it into their own faces. Brie kept giggling, but eventually she said: “Okay, I think you've eaten enough. Everyone line up in a line.”
The goop-covered players lined up in a row; Paul joining on the end after a few threatening looks. Brie removed the overturned cup of protein shake and picked up most of the spilled shake with the single swipe of a rag that was lying nearby. Brie laid down on her front on the floor, her face so close to her players that Paul could see their hair ripple from her breath. Then, she opened her mouth and licked the player on the far left up his body, her huge tongue covering him from legs up to his head.
Brie did this in turn for each athlete; she gave each of them one great lick across their smoothie-soaked bodies. Her tongue was almost as big as each man if not a bit bigger, and many men struggled not to be picked up by Brie's tongue and into her mouth. This must have been some kind of game or ritual, Paul figured; they acted as though this was utterly routine. Often times Brie's tongue would life a player off his feet temporarily and he would fall, eliciting laughs and jeers coming from the rest.
Paul stood there in silent dread as Brie's face came ever closer to him. He could feel her hot breath on his body already and could see all the features of her enormous tongue. She licked the player next to him, and then she was looking right at him. There was a twinkle of smug joy in her huge eyes—she knew she had her brother right where she wanted him. Was she really going to lick him? Would she pull him into her mouth like that other player? For several tense seconds she made him wait.
Then Brie giggled, the loud noise almost causing Paul to jump. “Shower time!” She announced suddenly. “Give all your dirty clothes to Paul!”
Paul's relief at not being eaten was quickly replaced by the horror of a dozen large, muscle-bound athletes taking off all their clothes right next to them. He tried very hard not to look at any of them, but soon they were approaching him in turn, thrusting their filthy clothes onto him. They were thick with sweat, protein shake, and gallons upon gallons of Brie's saliva. It was a revolting mixture and by the time they had all given him their clothes the stack was quite heavy as well.
As the athletes headed towards the shower Paul headed towards the laundry area, relieved that at least he didn't have to be around a dozen huge, naked male athletes. His arms ached under the heavy pile and so much of Brie's saliva was running onto him from the clothes that she might as well have licked him. But as soon as he put down the pile of clothes his sister spoke up again.
“Oh Paul, you're not skipping out on a shower, are you?” Brie said in a falsely sweet voice. A chill of dread ran through his spine as more jeers floated over from the athletes. He remembered what Kyle said about showers being communal, and knew that hell would likely await him if he tried to skip it. So though every fiber of his being made him want to do anything but this; Paul pulled off all this clothes and added them to the pile before nakedly sprinting over to join the other men.
The hissing showerheads were close enough together that the men stood shoulder-to shoulder. They left Paul an open spot right in the middle and as soon as he got close he was pulled in and pushed into place. A body wash-shampoo was being passed around so Paul took his share, suds now running down everyone's bodies. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Brie watching with great excitement; obviously she was greatly aroused by the soapy, wet muscular men showering in front of her.
There was some horseplay even here, with guys shoving each other and making jokes. The athlete on Paul's left was pushed into him by someone on his other side, causing Paul to tumble into the athlete on his right. Paul scrambled to pick himself up and get him back into line while the others laughed.
“Turn!” Came Brie's voice from above. With almost military precision the athletes turned around to face outwards, washing their backsides with their fronts exposed. Now they were all face-to-face with their dicks exposed to Brie, who was looking at them with a look Paul never wanted to see on his sister's face: that of pure, naked arousal. To his horror Paul knew that his own tiny, naked body was now fully in his sister's view as well.
Soon the shower was over and Brie hit the switch that caused the heads to stop spouting water. Her other hand was on top of her crotch playing with herself through her shorts. It was obvious she was barely able to contain herself and showed no need to be modest or downplay her arousal in front of her players.
“Line up!” She commanded, “It's time to pick today's MVP!” The athletes stepped forward and turned slightly so that they were directly in front of Brie, who inspected them all thoroughly. For once, the players were quiet and not laughing or horsing around. Paul was highly uncomfortable and each second seemed like an eon as he waited for it to be over.
“You!” Brie said, reaching forward and plucking one of the players off of the ground to a chorus of disappointed sounds from the others which soon turned into whoops and cheers for their friend. Brie looked at the hapless little prize in her hand with that same horrible hungry, aroused look. There was little doubt what he was in for.
Brie straightened herself up and delivered her final message for the evening from her terrible full height: “Now rest up because tomorrow is game day! We've got to beat the Lancers! If you can help me wipe that smug grin off Tomi's face you'll be greatly rewarded!”
A cheer went up from the team and they soon began chanting their name: “Mash-ERS! Mash-ERS!” They pumped their fist in the air as they looked skyward towards their owner. Brie held up her player-free hand in a fist in acknowledgment and they all cheered before Brie walked off. Peter had jumped onto Brie's shoe at some point in the last minute and was holding onto the shoestrings as she walked. The floor creaked under Brie's weight as she walked upstairs to enjoy her prize.
Now the players were free to relax and enjoy their evening. They filed off towards the bed area to put on pajamas and Paul followed, grateful that neither he nor the others were naked. Once the other players were dressed they began to relax and entertain themselves in various ways. Paul felt relieved that he was about to get a break, but then remembered the huge stack of filthy clothes he had to wash.
Washing the clothes turned out to be a huge hassle. The chunks of protein mix soaked in Brie's saliva had to be removed by hand and before long Paul found himself becoming filthy all over again. After what seemed like hours he was finally able to get the clothes into a state where he could throw them in the machine and be reasonably sure it wouldn't get clogged.
Paul thought he might get a break then but several of the guys were now loudly asking about dinner. Paul was drafted into the preparations and he was quickly tasked with doing the majority of the work to feed eleven large, hungry men. At least the food was pretty good and he was allowed to eat as well when it was finished, though much like at Sarah's none of the athletes wanted Paul to sit with them. He was barely done eating when the players all piled their dishes up in front of him and he had to take them to the dishwasher.
Paul quickly ran to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer before running back to do the dishes. At least the dryer was big enough to do the clothes in one load. He finished the dishes in time to remove the clothes from the dryer and fold and hang them for the players. He didn't know what belonged to whom, but one by one they came up and started taking their clothes from him, so at least for now it didn't seem to matter.
It was quite late and players were turning in to sleep. One of them activated a switch which turned off the large overhead lights, leaving only a few small lights near the beds to see by. Still smelling of spit and sweat but too tired to care, Paul collapsed on his bed. Despite the traumas of the last couple days he had little doubt that he'd go to sleep very quickly—he was just that exhausted.
Paul lay there in his new bed, flashes of Sarah, Barney, Brie, Katelyn, Bethany, and Hannah flashing through his mind. It was just too much and too overwhelming to think about it all; and perhaps the one silver lining in living at Brie's is that he would just be too exhausted from all the physical activity to think about them much anymore. Still, he hoped that not every day would be as grueling as this one or he might not make it. Some soldier he would have turned out to be.
But finally, to the snores of the athletes next to him, Paul fell asleep and the night would pass dreamlessly into the next day.