Soccer Slut Wannabes

                               Soccer Slut Wannabes - Chapter 11

       Coach D had sunk back into a near coma by the time the gang dropped her off at the swamp, the nickname for the lacrosse team's house located just outside of the university's grounds. This was a deliberate choice made many years ago when that group won their first national title and became legends. They were close enough to use the athletic department's facilities and the lacrosse field, but were undeterred in their "social" life by the campus authorities. They had long since worked out an accommodation with the local police, so they pretty much did as they damn well pleased, short of murder.

       Some would say that the situation involving the missing soccer slut wannabe should be laid at their door as well, hinting strongly that foul play of the worst kind was now in their repertoire. If the truth be told, a few of the team were not at all confident that when the little Polynesian left their place she was breathing. However the majority of the membership were quite willing to swear to the fact that the girl was alive and well. They also claimed they had no idea where she was going. That part was the truth, since at the time of her departure, negotiations were still going on with the slavers.

       All that was last year's news and currently coach D had been kidnapped in order to settle an argument that had broken out concerning her sexual preference. None of the current occupants were there when the then soccer slut was kept as a sex slave by the team for a full semester. All had heard stories about her ability in the sack, the weekend gangbangs that left her half dead but still pleading for more hard dick, and the fact that she was the private stock of one of the team leaders. On the other hand everyone was also aware of her strong interest in her soccer slut ladies as manifested in her frequent encounters with them in the showers.

       Everyone involved in this running argument was in agreement that the only way to settle the matter was to have a show and tell with coach D on their turf, under their rules. It was a simple matter to negotiate with some local soccer hooligans to bring her to the swamp for testing and evaluation. However it was a bit disconcerting to have what appeared to be a cold, nearly dead body dropped off at their doorstep. After a brief conference it was decided to drag the body into the house and see if she was alive.

       The pair carrying her across the threshold nearly dropped the body when coach D let out a low moan and her eye lids fluttered. When she started talking they dropped her onto the rough wooden floor, bringing a yelp from her. One of them cursed and kicked her in the ribs, claiming she almost made hm piss his pants, that is if he had been wearing any. The other grabbed lady Diana by the hair and pulled her to a sitting position as he screamed.

       "You up for a serious gangbang by the biggest, baddest studs in the state? Well bitch, answer me!"

When she only mumbled, he slapped her across the face over and over, one hand holding her head steady, the other whipping back and forth like a demented metronome. Others pulled him off the woman before he did some serious harm to her.

       Fortunately for all concerned, one maverick had actually come to school to get a degree as well as play lacrosse. He was accepted grudgingly despite being a national high school all star. However once his talent for forging drug perscriptions became known, he was welcomed with open arms. Thanks to his connections at the medical school, his father was well known for his unique specialty, penis enhancement, he managed to stock his room with a collection of exotic drugs rarely, if ever, found at your average pharmacy. It was this that allowed them to bring coach D back among the living in souped up form for the challenge that they planned for her.

       Meanwhile on the other side of town a similar situation was taking shape involving Nirobe, Luci and the local soccer hooligans, buttressed by friends and assorted low-lifes attracted to the scene by the scent of free pussy. To Nirobe Mirimba this gangbang was no different than the ones in which she got paid to participate. It was a closely guarded secret among the soccer sluts that their All American soccer star was a full blown nymphomaniac.

       The haughty mocha-skinned beauty was unprepared for what these brutes were fixing to do besides just rape her in every hole until they bled. This had turned into a grudge match and she was vastly outnumbered. She did get a little taste of what was in store for her once they dumped the body of coach D on the doorstep of the swamp. It wasn't more than a minute before her ankles were untied, a sure sign that they planned to start raping her immediately. She made the mistake of kicking one of them very close to his family jewels. He cursed and fell backwards, hitting his head on the metal floor, bringing laughter from his mates.

       What happened next was no laughing matter. He lunged forward and got his hands around her neck. He began squeezing and Nirobe gasped, her air supply pinched off by his iron grip. Then she saw stars as he head-butted her in the face, breaking her nose in the process.  The second butt opened a deep gash in her forehead and knocked her cold.

       When she awoke, someone was raping her with brutal strokes, each one a hammer blow to her insides. Nirobe's nose made wheezing noises as she tried to draw breath, and every time she inhaled, her chest hurt. A disembodied hand grabbed her by the throat and shook her so hard that her eyes felt as if they were going to bounce from their sockets. "Still think it's funny? Well bitch, answer me or do I have to break your jaw next?" The soccer star cringed, realizing it was the same one who had knocked her out and broke her nose.

       The one raping her told the other to get out of his way until he finished nutting in the bitch's cunt. She thanked the gods for the smallest of favors. Her rapist had turned into her protector. That's how far she had fallen in such a brief time. Nirobe figured she had been out for a while since the gash in her forehead had stopped bleeding, leaving her with a vicious headache. It was dark inside the van so she had to strain her ears to try to pick up any sounds that might be coming from the vicinity of her companion, Luci. The one inside her picked up the pace and she knew that soon she would be at the mercy of the other who had already done major damage to her face.

       Back at the swamp their guest of honor had been carried up to the "doctor's" crib for a quicky physical examination and some drug therapy. Doc, as he was known to the rest of the team, who also lacked any shred of originality in their hulking bodies, charged a fee for his services and while the patient transporters waited discretely outside his closed door, he collected in full from his latest patient. Never when he sodomized a coed, hooker, his sister or a close friend of the family were their cavities this cool. It was sort of freaky, reminding him of his brief tenure in the coroner's office, working the night shift. Those were the days. On the other hand she was quite tight, strange considering the tales that were told about her.

       After collecting his fee and determining that coach D was alive and suitable for drug therapy, he called in the transporters to hold her down while he gave her a series of injections and followed that up with a handful of pills covering the colors of a rainbow. It didn't take long for her to respond to all the interesting chemicals that were reacting with other interesting chemicals that were routinely generated within her body.

       Rarely was there such chemical  bonding, as one molecule swapped space with another and others combined to allow this new enhanced molecule to bond with still another souped up devil's brew formed by a change in the molecule's valence. Some of the new molecules were what is called long chained types. They were often upwards of perhaps half a mile in length, but their dimensions were such that they could very easily be accommodated anywhere within the body. It truly was the modern mad tea party that Lewis Carroll anticipated in his classic children's story. Alas, in his days they only had to make do with laudanum, which wasn't half bad if done properly.

       His two assistants were totally boggled by what they witnessed in his room. They winced sympathetically when his patient's nipples were pierced dead center with hypodermic needles loaded to their limit with an amber colored fluid that first made those nips as hard as glass and then quickly effused into the breast tissue, causing it to swell. Within ten minutes the coach went from a 32B to a 35D bra size, and by the time the gang was finished skewering her fore and aft dozens upon dozens of times she was a 36DD and remained that way for nearly a week afterward.

       That was nothing compared to what happened after the next series of shots she got. He explained very carefully to the two lacrosse players, now playing the part of twin Igors, to get a good grip on their patient and hold on for dear life until the spasms ended, which might take upwards of  three minutes to run their course. Being lacrosse players they thought he was fooling with their minds. How could this skinny chick who was still only semiconscious do anything that they couldn't handle with one arm tied behind their backs?

       Doc sighed as he loaded up a metal cannister that terminated in a needle so thick that it gave the Igors a chill. He lined the needle up to an area in her armpit and tentatively pushed the tip gently against the skin and paused. He frowned and reset the needle slightly to an area a few centimeters away and gave his a cohorts a stern look. Then he pressed a lever in the cannister's base and all hell broke loose.

       You talk about zero to sixty in a few seconds, this was zero to Mach one! One of the Igors was hurled half way across the room by her initial reaction. The other had the good sense to roll over and pin her to the bed while she thrashed and fought to escape his hold. Doc joined him in restraining the coach and, as predicted, in about three minutes she stopped frothing at the mouth and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. That is not to say that she was at peace, far from it. Whatever was awakened inside her was just raring to get out and do some damage.

       When the second injection was given, both Igors had her in a death grip and this time there were no surprises. The "doctor" casually mentioned that the glands he had injected were now sending wave after wave of powerful signals to other glands that would make their patient almost impervious to pain. Since the purpose of this trial was to determine her sexual limitations, he thought it only fair to even the playing field a bit by assuring that she would not be exposed to unwarranted pain or punishment. The Igors had a hard time accepting this idea, but they knew better than to fool with him over this trivial detail. Pussy was pussy and that was the focus around the swamp anyway.

       There remained a final set of injections to be made, and even the Igors knew what was coming. Indeed these were scheduled for her external sex organs. By the time he got done shooting up his patient,  her clitoris was the size of a walnut, blood red and throbbing, and her cunt lips or labia majora, as Doc described them, were a gaudy red-purple color and so thick that they blocked the entrance to her snatch. "It looks like a baboon's ass" one of the Igors observed, much to the amusement of Doc.

       The pills covered the spectrum but predominantly enhanced her endurance and ability to stay awake and very alert. There would be no nodding off at this gangbang, no matter what! Many of the pills were derivatives of speed, or meth as the junkies called it. This was much purer and quite a bit more potent. Without some of the other chemicals from the previous injections, this souped up drug could do severe internal damage to various glands and organs.

       The lacrosse team members were hard pressed to believe that the naked, wild woman who descended  the stairs was even remotely related to the skinny, cold, near dead specimen that  had been literally carried up those same stairs. Following her was Doc, who intoned the words, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

                               ( To be continued - lex ludite )