This is part one of Samantha’s struggles in sissy sports. Part two is currently on my patreon, which will remain ahead on this story as I continue to write and publish its pieces.
Thanks to everyone for reading. I hope you like it!
https://www.patreon.com/c/SissyGirlSammi

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“You’re free to go, sissy.”
They’d told me those words when they’d discharged me from the summer camp, the Draconian, terrible place that I’d spent my break. Those four months had been the longest of my life, but even as I left, I wasn’t really free. They told me I was. But they also gave me several conditions of my “parole,” conditions that could get me sent back if I broke them.
 
Condition #1: Don’t Do It Again.
 
That was easy enough. My attempt to go viral, my attempt at the prank, had gone horribly wrong. What was just supposed to be a harmless if overly elaborate joke turned into a fire, property damage and enough charges to get me expelled from college. Luckily my stepmother knew the judge. At least I thought it was lucky. These days, I was starting to wonder if she was the one who’d pushed him to go so hard on me, so that the alternative he offered seemed like a better choice. It could have been a set up from the start.
But I was never going to get in trouble again. I’d seen what happened to people who went back for round two. As much as I hated what they made me, I was only medium. I’d seen some poor souls there who were well-done by the time they left again.
 
Condition #2: Be Put Under The Care Of A Compliance Officer
 
That one was also pretty simple. Part of the damage I had done was burning down a section of a sorority house. When my stepmother reached out to them in hopes of finding what amounted to my parole officer, one gladly volunteered. In fact, she was too glad. She loved to make sure my outfit was perfect, to make me redo my nails, to make my life even harder than it already was. The fact that we were roommates didn’t help. She had all day to torture me with her stupid rules and expectation.
 
Condition #3: Keep Your Grades Up
 
I’d always been a pretty good student and unlike some of the repeat offenders at the camp, they hadn’t messed with my head. I was still me, at least mentally, and ready to protect that at all cost. In fact, I was doing better in school than I ever had. The nightmares I had about vapid, giggling girls who’d had deep conversations with me only a few months before saw to that. One of the offenders there had been a math major who got caught running the largest cheating operation in his college’s history. By the time he got out, I don’t think you could have asked them to do arithmetic.
Come to think about it, he had a stepmom he didn’t get along with either…
All that was to say that I didn’t want to break the rules. But after they released me, as I tried my best to stay in line, I realized that maybe they wanted me to fail. They must have, because the fourth and last rule was absurd.
 
Condition #4: Must Participate On An Athletic Team
 
The people at the camp claimed that this rule was there to motivate their sissies to be well rounded, and that playing sports usually led to less issues and rule breaking. But if my few scattered conversations with returning sissies were any indication, this was one which had tripped up so many. With our new bodies, it was easy to see why. We weren’t made for athletics. But I needed to make a team. So here I was.
Basketball tryouts.
Truth be told, I probably looked ridiculous. The softest blonde hair I’d ever felt hung back in a ponytail behind me. My delicate features and adorable face were trying to look determined, but I probably just looked cute. My shoulders were now so narrow that it was hard to look imposing, and my arms were so thin that if I flexed them, everyone would laugh. My slender, dainty hands certainly didn’t help matters. Neither did my hourglass waist, which not even my oversized jersey could completely hide. Almost all these clothes were oversized on me, including the baggy gym shorts which I had secured by tying their drawstrings as tight as humanly possible. Luckily my wide hips kept them firmly in place.
Then there were my long, smooth legs, supple and hairless, leading into a pink pair of sneakers. Unfortunately, they were the only ones I could find in my size.
I must have looked so small, so tiny as I walked into the gym next to all these college guys. Basketball had been my best sport but now…all they’d done to me had made this a seemingly impossible task. It was my last option though. I’d already failed in my tryouts for baseball, where the bats were too heavy for me to effectively swing. I’d tried crew, but I didn’t have the upper body strength to row. Plus a boy had thought it’d be funny to push me in the water and see through my wet tee-shirt. At least that had been better than my attempt at football. Some dude had tackled me so hard…well, tackle isn’t the right word. He’d lifted me like I was nothing and then threw me down on the turf, hands suddenly on my breasts.
“Oops, sorry” he said as though it wasn’t entirely on purpose. It was at that moment I realized I couldn’t try contact sports.
So here I was, walking onto the court as every guy stopped and stared. Most of them would have no doubt heard about the boy who’d been enrolled in the Sissy Reformation Program. But to see me here, dressed like this…
One started to laugh.
I shot him a glare and started to stretch, getting warm before grabbing one of the balls. Even after all they’d done to me, I still knew the game. I still understood how to be part of a team. So as I dribbled out there, I could only hope I’d somehow make it.
“I knew you’d be a good ball handler” joked one of the taller guys, walking up to me and circling as he inspected the sissy.
I rolled my eyes and tried to walk on, but he blocked my way.
“You really think you have a shot, Blondie?”
“I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to get warm” I said, staring him down.
“Is that a sports bra under your jersey?” he laughed as I walked past. It was. But I needed it unless I wanted my C cups to jiggle about.
As the official tryout time neared, the coach finally entered the place. He looked about and saw the old faces, the new hopefuls…and me. He stopped looking when he saw me.
“Hey, you…” he said, walking over. “You can’t be serious.”
I put the ball under my arm and looked up to him. “Dead serious.”
“No, I’m serious. You’re just going to be a distraction in these tryouts.”
“The rules say anyone is allowed to try and make the team. Anyone. You can’t discriminate against me, even if you think I’m a distraction.”
He sighed and looked about, shaking his head. “Fine, but don’t come bawling to me when someone shoves you” he said, blowing his whistle.I put my hands on my hips and joined the other boys that were lined up. I had to make the team. Or else.
“First off, dribbling. Newbies try to dribble from one end of the court to another while the starters guard them. You first” said the coach, pointing at me. Apparently he wanted to set an example.
I took a ball as the boy who’d laughed at me squared up in front, smiling and waiting for me to dribble.
Here goes nothing.
I moved out, trying to slowly and simply dribble…and immediately got the ball stripped from me. He bounced it back and I tried again.
And again.
And again.
I was indignant, angry, shameful, looking like I might cry as the coach blew his whistle and sent the next newbie in. This was ridiculous. It was unfair. But I couldn’t let them see me cry, no matter how much this stupid estrogen wanted me to. I had to get angry, not upset. So I just stood there, gritting my teeth as the next challenge came.
Once all the boys had shown their dribbling prowess, the couch brought us all to the basket to see our shooting skills. Each one of us lined up on the free throw line and tried to make as many as possible.
Again, he chose me first.
As much as I didn’t appreciate him putting me on the spot, I felt a bit better about this. There was no one guarding me, no one looking to make me feel stupid. So I got up to the line, took my shot…
And didn’t even reach the rim.
Looking about in embarrassment, I grabbed another ball and tried again, throwing it harder. But for every foot I added to my shot, I lost some accuracy. I was basically doing the motion I would have done if I were shooting a half court shot, just putting power behind it and praying. By the third throw, I managed to hit the backboard, but that was all I did before my time was up.
I could feel the shame welling more and more, boiling in my stomach as I tried to keep it together. I was failing. I was panicking. The room almost felt like it was liting slightly, spinning slowly and threatening to send me to the floor. I spent almost all the time between then and the final challenge just trying to pull myself together, trying to be ready. Finally, it came time for the scrimmage. I was put at tip off, with the guy who’d called me Blondie on the other team.
“You should really just go home” he smirked as he looked to me, waiting for the coach to throw it up.
“Fuck off” I growled.
“Oh, Blondie’s gonna throw a temper tantrum. Better make sure you don’t break a nail” he grinned as the couch threw it up. I jumped for the ball…but he jumped a foot higher, passing it back to his team as I went on defense. I could hardly keep up with the flow of the game. Everyone was at least a head taller than me. I was just trying my best, hoping that there might be some bonus points for tenacity. The other players came and went but the coach made sure I was in the whole time, no doubt trying to prove his point. With one minute left in the scrimmage, I was fighting for my life. I needed something. I needed anything. So when the ball came loose…
I jumped for it, getting a breakaway and heading for the basket. The clock ran down. The other team was up by one. I just needed to get a basket, just one basket. So I went for an easy layup-
And a moment later, I was looking up at that jerk from the ground. He had fouled me, hit me hard mid-shot and sent me to the floor. I groaned in pain as he looked down at me.
“Don’t cry Blonde. You’re gonna get some foul shots” he smirked.
Sure enough, the other boys had gathered in their places, snickering as I slowly rose. The coach bounced the ball to me as I went to the free throw line. One second left. I needed to make both baskets.
Taking a breath, I shot.
“Princess!” came the loud cough from next to me, and I wish I could say it threw me off. But the ball wasn’t going in regardless. It barely reached the rim.
I sighed, red faced and nearly tearing up as they bounced the ball back. Just make this one. If not for the tryout, just make this one for yourself. Just prove to yourself you weren’t this useless. I took another deep breath…
And airballed it. The buzzer went off and the guys all shook their heads. Most went to pack up their gym bags. The douche who’d fouled me walked over.
“Told you just to go home. You aren’t an athlete. You’re more WAG material” he winked before leaving me there. The boys all left, knowing that almost no one was getting cut at the first tryout. No one but me, of course. The coach gave me one last look before leaving and then simply shrugged before walking out the door.

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I was bawling.
I’d missed my chance. I’d humiliated myself. I’d let everyone know how weak and girly I was. And for what? Now I was just going back to be brainwashed. It was over. It was all over. And I was crying like a little girl.
Head in my hands, I sobbed in a way I would have never allowed as a guy. But it was a bit late for pride. I might as well get it out while I could still cry about it, before my shame and humiliation was replaced by a fake smile. It was over. Why not cry like some priss?
“Excuse me?” asked a voice from behind.
I turned to see a girl dressed for volleyball, looking down at me with as much concern as a crying girl ought to get. It would have been sweet if being caught like this wasn’t so mortifying. I quickly wiped my tears and tried to act fine. “Um…sorry about that…”
She looked me over, no doubt taken aback by the slender girl in the men’s gym clothes. To anyone who didn’t know, I just looked like a girl. Even people who did know had trouble believing it and I’d had a few occasions where I had to just shamefully give up trying to convince people that I really was a boy. “You here for tryouts?”
“I was” I shrugged.
“Was?” she asked. “What, did you change your mind?”
I shook my head. “No, I already…” I trailed off, watching as a few girls came in behind her, putting up the volleyball nets and getting ready.
“Already what? Listen, if you’re afraid you won’t make it, don’t worry. We didn’t have enough girls last year anyway” she explained.
I looked blankly to her, to the nets going up, to the girls moving to the corner of the gym.
Maybe I couldn’t make any of the boy’s teams. But I could make a girl’s team. Right?
“Oh, sweet. And I wasn’t worried. It was just…uh…personal…stuff” I explained.
She nodded. “Some boy break your heart?”
“Um…kinda” I muttered, walking to the bench. I set myself up, getting a sip of water and thinking for a few moments. I’d played volleyball in gym and I was pretty good at it. Besides, it couldn’t be too hard if these girls were doing it. I just had to be accepted and I was home free.
“Hey, are you new?” asked a girl as she approached, looking me over. I hate to say it, but she had to look down to do so. They’d managed to make me 5ft7, but it wasn’t just that. She was rather tall and athletic, clearly more built for sports than anything else.
“Yeah” I explained. “Just…wanted to try something new this year.”
“Alright, let’s volley” she smiled, taking a ball and hitting it to me. I yelped, taken by surprise and trying my best to return it. Luckily we were going pretty easy with it, but she still had to advance slightly to return my hit.
Back and forth we went, my body and mind getting in tune to figure out how to do this. “What’s with the getup?” she asked.
“Oh?” I asked, knowing that my male gym clothes must have seemed strange. “Just…some old stuff I had.”
“Well you look stupid” she snorted. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you in the uniform soon.”
I tried to smile back like that was something that sounded good as the last of the girls filtered in.
”I’m Abby” she offered.
“Samantha” I hit back, getting into a good rhythm with this. It was just in time too.
“Line up, ladies” came a commanding voice as the captain entered the room. She was a tall blonde, fit and oozing authority. I got the idea that even if she wasn’t the best volleyball player, she’d still be in charge. I followed the others as they formed a line at the edge of the court.
The captain made her way down the line, inspecting the girls and mostly just nodding as she saw the familiar faces. I just tried to give an awkward smile, looking to her as friendly as possible as she approached. But she didn’t return the smile. She looked me over with narrowing eyes before giving me a glare that felt like it was boring its way into my head. She must have known…
“Okay, girls” she said, with special emphasis on the second word. “It looks like we have more or less the same team from last year so this tryout will mostly just be a practice. Some scrimmages, just stuff to shake off the off-season rust.”
Everyone took their positions, the starters taking the lead as me and another newer girl were ushered into our positions. I tried to watch the others as much as I could, learning all that was possible on the fly and trying to mimic them. It was slow going at first, Abby next to me as our side of the net got some cohesion going. I wasn’t great, but I didn’t embarrass myself, so that was something. It almost made me feel good after so many horrible tryouts. I was doing okay. Maybe it was a girl’s sport. Maybe everyone was going easy. Maybe I wasn’t great. But I was doing okay. That felt better than nothing.
“Let me sub in” said the captain, circling the courts and inspecting all the players. She replaced one of the players in the front line on the other side of the net. I tossed the ball back to our server before looking back to her, expecting that same glare.
What I saw was worse.
She was smiling, an evil, cheshire smile.
We served the ball and they returned it, getting a good volley going as both sides managed their space well. From behind the net, she even looked a bit impressed. And then their setter put the ball up in the air, right above her and-
I was on my back, still feeling the sting of the ball against my face. She spiked it as hard as possible, right at my head. I was fine, more or less but…ow.
“You okay?” asked Abby with concern as the captain crossed her arms.
“Sorry” she said with a voice which held no sympathy as I slowly got up. “You want to go take a break and recover?”
I looked to her with my own glare now, shaking my head. “No. I’m staying in.”
She cocked her head as if surprised, or at least amused. “Alright. Let’s go tough girl.”
She didn’t try it again but as the scrimmages went on, the games got a bit more serious. The girls were warm and getting back into it, and I had to struggle to keep up. I made some mistakes but nothing embarrassing. In fact, I was a bit surprised at how well I was adapting.
“Alright, back in line” said the captain after about an hour of practicing. We all retook our places and she walked up and down to inspect us. She must have done two or three passes before she finally sighed and pointed to me.
“Step out here.”
I looked around and then stepped out of line, all eyes on me.
“What’s your name?”
“Samantha…what’s yours?” I awkwardly joked.
“Kim” she dryly answered. “Why the shorts?”
I looked down to the male gym shorts and shrugged. “Sorry, these were all I had.”
“Funny. They didn’t take all your clothes when they shipped you off to Sissy Camp?”
A few girls gasped. Some snickered. Most just stared at me. Truth be told, more than a few must have known. But it took Kim to actually bring it to the forefront.
I uncomfortably reached down and anxiously fiddled with the drawstrings. “Uh…most of them…” I admitted.
“Tell me…” she said, reaching forward and grabbing me by the chin, forcing me to face her. “Why should we let a sissy on the team?”
All the girls looked at me like it was a good question, and like they wanted an answer.
“Um…because I want to play? I want to join the team. I mean…I won’t be a problem! I promise!” I insisted. “I’ll just be one of the girls. I’ll fit in just fine.”
At those words, the devious grin returned. “Just one of the girls, huh?” she asked, looking to her teammates.
I nodded, willing to say anything to get on the team.
“Well…” she smiled, letting go of my chin and crossing her arms. “You did alright. And we are short on players. I suppose if you promise to be like one of the girls, to do what we do, not expect any special treatment, we can let you in.”
I barely had time to crack a grin before she added. “But if you step out of line and break that promise, you’re done. Got it, Samantha?” she asked.
My grin melted away before it even formed. I just gave a scared nod and she smirked, patting me on the head. “Good. First practice is tomorrow. I’ll bring you some more suitable clothes.”
And with that, all the other girls began to get their things, stealing glances at the sissy like I was some sort of carnival freakshow.
“So…” said Abby, looking at me with a new set of eyes. I frowned when I saw her confusion and suspicion.
“If you’re going to say I should have told you, you didn’t ask” I reminded her.
She put up her hands. “Hey, I don’t care. I mean, I definitely care. But there’s a lot of season. Lots of time for me to figure out whether we’re friends or not.”
With that, she walked off. My eyes followed her out the door, but paused when they saw another figure waiting there.
Jasmine.
My ‘Compliance Officer.’
I sighed and made my way to her, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder. “What?”
“You didn’t show at home and tryouts were from nine to ten. I was worried you might be out somewhere, working a gloryhole for drug money” she pouted. I was used to her teasing me but it was still annoying. I’d made a sport’s team by the skin of my teeth though. So I was actually in a good mood for once.
“I stayed later for the volleyball tryouts.”
“Our school doesn’t have a boy’s vol…” she trailed off, shock on her face. “You didn’t! That’s not fair!”
“It is, actually. There’s nothing in the rules against it. Trust me. You read the rules to torment me, I read them to save my life. I know them better than you” I assured her.
“Alright. Fine” she said, looking more than a bit disappointed. But then, she put on a smile. Only thing was, I couldn’t tell if it was real or not. “I didn’t want to lose you so soon anyway. It would have sucked if you only got to be my roomie for a few weeks before getting shipped back to Sissy Camp.”
“Yeah. It would have sucked” I sarcastically replied.
BZZZ
I reached down and grabbed my phone out of my bag, seeing I’d been added to the team’s groupchat.
And Kim had typed up a message.
“Hey girls (And Samantha.) So excited about the season with you all! I’m hosting a party tonight at my house and not to say attendance is mandatory, but I HIGHLY suggest you all show up.”
A winking emoji followed. Great. She was sure being subtle.
“It’s just off campus and there’s a pool, so dress accordingly. I think team chemistry and cohesion is important, so I really want us to mingle and be friendly with each other. See you there!”
“What was that?” asked Jasmine.
“Just made the team. Officially” I said, putting my phone back. I couldn’t let Jasmine know about the party, even if I had to go. She could be a bit…sadistic when it came to ‘helping’ me. Especially when clothing was involved.
“Listen, I’m going to go talk to my teammate, try to learn more about the sport. I’ll see you back at the dorm tonight? Late?” I asked, already starting on my way out.
“Fine. Just don’t get into trouble. You can still end up back in camp. Trust me” she told me as I hurried down the halls of the gym complex, trying to catch Abby.
“Hey!” I said as I came up from behind her. She turned with a furrowed brow, probably wondering why I’d chased her.
“Yeah?”
“Can you…can you…please…help me with the party tonight?” I asked.
“Help you?”
“I don’t own a bathing suit and I can’t let my roommate get me one and I can’t buy anything because she can see all my bank statements and I’d get in trouble” I explained in what seemed like one breath. Abby, for her part, just snorted.
“You think we’re the same size?”
I looked to her and then to me, blushing at the size difference. “Um…no…” I said, realizing that I might be cooked.
“And why me?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Because…” I said, looking annoyed to say it. “You’re the only one who’s treated me nice since this happened.”
She considered that and considered me, thinking for a moment before shaking her head. “This might be 90% pity, but fine. Come on.”
She turned and walked ahead, leaving me to stand there. Didn’t she just say she couldn’t help? But as she walked, I quickly began to hurry after, wondering what she had in mind.

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“No.”
She raised her brows at me, silently asking if she’d heard me right. We were currently in her dorm, going through her roommate’s clothes. Luckily her roomie was cool with it, and more or less my size. But that didn’t mean I had to like the options she had. For example, the bikini she was holding was just…
No.
“Do you have some other swimwear lying around that I don’t know about? Because you OBVIOUSLY can’t wear trunks” she said, pointing to my chest as I blushed and looked down. “Besides, Kim is going to be looking for any chance to get rid of you. You heard her. You need to be one of the girls. And all the girls will be in bikinis.”
“Right” I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “But I’ve just…”
“Never worn a bikini before? Tough. Now take those stupid clothes off and put these on while I find a coverup.”
I grumbled and took the bikini out of her hands, heading to their small bathroom and slowly getting undressed. The worst part was that she was right. As I pulled off my tee and pulled down my shorts, I was presented with the visage of a young, attractive woman. I knew I wasn’t that, but it’s hard to argue with a reflection. Heck, if you just had a silhouette of me, you’d think it were the perfect pear=shaped body that they talk about girls having in health class. But even for that, I’d have to be a rather slender pair.
Taking off my bra, I was presented with perhaps my least favorite part of my feminization. They weren’t too big for my lithe frame but they certainly weren’t small either. They were C cups and they were as perfect and perky as anyone could ask for. That was one of the many ‘perks’ of being transformed via the most cutting edge technology in existence.
I put on the powder blue string bikini top, tying it as best I could and frowning as I looked to the mirror. I looked like…well, I always looked like a cute girl. But the bikini wasn’t going to help. Then there were the bottoms…
I pulled down my panties without looking and put on the bottoms the same way, not wanting to see my current state down below. There was enough to make me cringe without checking in on that. When they were finally on, I checked to make they were properly fitted, frowning as I saw the back. They covered most of my cheeks but not all of them. I was showing some butt, and grumbling to myself as I realized there was no way not to. Adjusting did no good.
Finally, I walked out. Abby lowered the white dress that she was looking over to see me, snickering once she did. “Sorry…“ she said. “You’re just so…”
“Yeah, I know” I gruffly replied, though it was hard to sound gruff with my high pitched voice.
“Here” she said, tossing me the white coverup as I realized she’d already changed. She was wearing a black one piece.
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious, sissy. And I haven’t heard a ‘you’re welcome’ yet?”
I grumbled and put on the coverup. “You’re welcome for helping me out, even if it seems like you’re having plenty of fun with it.”
“I was actually hoping for a ‘you’re welcome’ for finding a suit that makes your butt look so good” she joked as she checked her phone. “You know you can just quit the team right? I mean, are you sure you’re all in on this?”
I took a moment to consider and then nodded. There really wasn’t any alternative.
“Good. Then let’s party, gurl.”
She grabbed her purse and I grabbed my bag, slipping my tiny feet back into my sneakers and following her out. I did my best to hide behind, feeling as naked and vulnerable as could be in this stupid bikini and the coverup that was practically transparent. A few guys looked down at me with smiles, making me blush and shrink. A few girls gave me looks of judgement…or was that comparison? Were they mentally checking my body and style against theirs?
Whatever it was, it continued as we made our way out of her residence hall and towards the houses on the edge of campus. Abby apparently knew which was Kim’s and knocked at the door when we arrived. Kim opened it, beaming when she saw my outfit and inviting us in.
“Oh, SAMANTHA! Look how pretty you are” she teased as we walked inside.
“Thanks” I muttered, seeing that most of the other girls were wearing shorts over their bottoms, wearing one pieces or just not dressed for the pool.
“Come on, take that off and let us see your suit! I’m so jealous of it!” gushed Kim as the other girls stopped what they were doing to take notice of me. I paused for a moment, seeing her expectant eyes and knowing that I was going to have to do what she said. So I slowly reached down and pulled it off me, standing there in nothing but my string bikini and feeling more naked than I’d ever felt in my life.
One of the girls couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing.
Others just looked in shock.
Kim’s smile grew.
“Girls, I want you all to gather around” she smirked, putting an arm around me as the rest of the girls all filtered into the room, their stares feeling like burning lights on my bare skin.
“I just want to make an official announcement. I had my doubts but I want to apologize: Samantha here is clearly all girl. I mean, NO ONE could look at her right now and say otherwise. Right?” she asked, looking down at me as my lower lip quivered in rage and shame.
“So don’t treat her any different. I mean, come on!” she said, gesturing to my body. “She’s one of us now. All girl. A hottie. Don’t you agree?”
One of the girls suppressed her giggling enough to raise a hand and answer.
“Agreed. She’s just SUCH a sissy. I mean, who can deny it?”
“Here, I want to try something” said one of the other girls, a redhead wearing a bikini top and denim shorts. She was ripped, her abs flexing as she lifted herself off the ground where she was laying back. She made her way over to the kitchen table and sat down. “Get over here.”
I was going to ask why when a hard SMACK to my butt sent me forward. Kim’s handprint was still stinging on my rump as I sat. The redhead leaned forward and put her arm out.
Oh no…
A few of the girls laughed as they realized what this was, and a pleading look to Abby just gave me a shrug in return. Slowly, I extended my arm out, getting into position.
“Three, two, one…arm wrestle!” exclaimed Kim.
I used all my might, trying to send the redhead’s arm to the table. But I couldn’t even budge her. She laughed as she kept me in place. “Wow, they did a number on you. Huh?” she asked.
“Use both hands!” offered Kim. I was frustrated, so frustrated I didn’t think. If I had, I would have thought about how winning with both hands wasn’t worth the risk of failing with both. But my ego, pride and masculinity were hurt right now, angry and throbbing in pain. So I brought both hands…
And she began to push mine down, sending them both into the table.
Sure, she was muscular. She was probably the strongest of all the girls. But I was still nearly crying in shame.
“See girls. She’s not a threat” gloated Kim. “She’s just a sissy. Our sissy. And we’re going to have a heck of a season together!”
Sitting there in my bikini, I realized exactly what I’d gotten myself into. It was going to be a heck of a season.
The only question was whether I could survive it.