The fact that “showing her around” ended pretty much immediately after showing her the ‘Friendship Area’ confirmed for Cin that Renee definitely knew that had just been a clumsy distraction.
Still, a worthwhile one.
The tour had reached its true ending at Renee’s room, Cin and Lina’s twin on the other side of the building. She let Cin know she had office hours 7-8 M/Tu/Sun, and that this didn’t mean anything since she had to give it to everyone on the floor, but here was her number.
Cin had accepted that with the most gracious smirk she could muster, and been rewarded with one of those eye rolls she found increasingly adorable.
After she’d asked if she could see the menu- no- roster Renee had been perusing, the RA shut the door in her face, but these doors weren’t thick.
Cin could hear her giggle.
She’d needed that little encounter. Nothing to take her mind off Lina like a smart, pretty girl with twin megaton bombs attached to her chest.
That meant Cin’s mind was mostly clear as she set off for Ernst P. Gocken Memorial Field.
Cin might have been forced off her high school team, but that wasn’t for lack of talent. It was because she’d gone to a private school, and the second string running back's parents were substantial donors.
And bigots.
That had stopped her from being recruited, but open tryouts was number 4 on the Big 5 list of reasons she’d picked Gock U.
Number 2 was her dad’s obsession with the Cockatrice’s. It… might have become her own, after a hundred home games.
That meant the way to EPG Field was damn near muscle memory already. If she was a lost cat, halfway across the nation, she might come here instead of her house.
Far from the hordes of happy, drunken game-goers she was used to though, there was a trickle of athletic boys sallying through the open gates.
Just inside, a woman with a friendly smile and a white Cocatrices polo took down names and positions from the hopefuls.
Cin waited patiently, looking over the competition.
Some of them were impressive, though, honestly, Cin was pretty sure she could pretzel any of them. She was taller than all of them, and had more brawn than all but one.
That dude looked like nothing so much as a Tolkienesque dwarf given leg extensions, down to the bushy braided beard.
He also happened to be right in front of her.
“Kolai Tennyson,” he said, damn near roared, at the poor attendant.
“P-position?” She stammered.
“Center!” He said, and Cin realized that was just kind of how the dude talked. This wasn’t malice, he just had the volume knob stuck on intense.
“Ooookay! Got you down! Head down that way to the field,” she said, friendly veneer slowly finding its way back to her pretty features.
“Thank ye!”
“Did he actually just say ‘ye’?” Cin asked, chuckling as she stepped up to the woman.
“He fucking yelled ‘ye’,” the woman murmured, before looking Cin square in the tits. “Oh!” She yelped. Her eyes went wide, then scanned up to her face, finding a winning smile.
“Hi!”
“Hi!” The attendant said, off balance from two surprises in a row. That said, this was Gocken University. She shouldn’t be too surprised to see Cin. Big Reason number 5; plenty of futanari at Gock U. Plenty of people to blend in with.
“Need my name?” Cin prompted, enjoying watching the woman’s eyes take in the contours of her face. She was used to it, but damn did it never stop feeling nice to be admired.
“Yep!” The woman squeaked, blushing and looking down at her clipboard.
“Cindy Amie,” her tormentor laughed, before continuing; “Starting halfback.”
The woman looked back up, eyebrow cocked, but amused.
“Just write it down,” Cin said. “It’ll save you time.”
The woman made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a scoff, but nodded towards the field anyway.
Cin didn’t move.
“Hannah Uriel,” Hannah answered, smirk curving full lips, but also probably at the end of her patience. “Team Trainer. You’ll see me plenty, if you make the team.”
“I’ll see you plenty, then,” Cin chuckled, and headed towards the field.
It wasn’t the first time she’d walked down this tunnel, but she’d dreamed about doing it again since she was 7. The crowd might not have actually been cheering for little kid Cin when her dad had been Hero of the Game, but fuck, it had felt like it.
The light blinded her for a moment as she exited, eyes having quickly adapted to the dark, but her vision cleared on a dream come true. Or the beginnings of one.
The boys who already had a sure spot on the team ran padless drills, warming up or starting to get down the very basics of this year's playbook.
Cin joined the line of onlookers not in uniform white-and-red, sidling up next to Kolai.
“I think you spooked Hannah, buddy,” Cin said, nudging a shoulder that had more hair than her entire body, head excluded.
“Whussat!?” Kolai asked, spinning on her. Tombstone white teeth gleamed out from behind that bigass beard. It was probably a smile, but who could fuckin’ tell.
“The cutie with the clipboard,” Cin laughed. “Gotta ask the help’s names, make them think you like them.”
Kolai squinted darkly at her, clearly sizing up whether or not she was actually a bourgeious fuckwad.
Cin chuckled, nudging him again. “I’m kidding, man,” she said, but let her eyes get a little serious. “For real though, sounds like she’s the team trainer. If you’re gonna be blocking for me, gotta play nice with her for sure.”
“Oh aye!” Kolai said, eyebrows shooting up to where his hairline had probably once been. “Aye… indeed!”
His smile widened, even that fantastic beard no longer fully able to hide it.
“Blockin’ for ya, eh?”
“Hell yeah, starting running b–”
“Everyone shut the fuck up!” A sharp, commanding voice boomed.
It had come from a woman who, without exaggeration, Cin worshipped like a goddess.
Trish Logen. First futanari in the NFL. Holder of the single-season rushing record. Holder of the record for most defensive players injured in a single season too.
Had never even been malice. She just hit that fucking hard.
She was number 3 on the Big 5 reasons for Cin Amie to be at Gock U.
“Goood,” she chuckled, as silence fell like an anvil, “Don’t like making Coach yell.”
For all her accomplishments, Trish wasn’t Gock U’s head coach. She probably could be somewhere else, but it seemed like someone would have to pry the offensive coordinator spot from her cold dead hands.
No, the Head Coach title was an honor held by the man beside her, who looked like a child against her massive, 6” 6’ frame. Mark Cordello was an idol of Cin’s too, but even as he stepped forward, she couldn’t take her eyes off Trish Logen.
His speech fell on deaf ears as Cin’ drank in features carved straight from marble, muscles wrought in steel, a physique that professional polo did nothing to hide.
A lot of futanari played down their natural ability to build muscle, in an attempt to look ‘more feminine’.
Trish was the reason Cin did exactly the opposite.
Was Trish jacked? Absolutely. Could she crush any of the college boys on this football field without breaking a sweat? Also yes.
Did she look like a man? Fuck no.
She looked, and Cin couldn’t reiterate this enough, like an absolute goddess. Femininity writ large over danger. Over power.
Over a cock that bulged through her slacks like it was mad about being hidden.
A rock beside Cin nudged her.
“That’d be ye, right?” Kolai whispered. Which was, of course, basically a yell.
Cin’s head snapped up to a group of young men hustling over to a series of drill setups, most of which looked like the kind of thing you might put prospective running backs through at, oh, say, an open tryout.
“Thanks buddy! Good luck!” Cin whispered back as she ran off after them.
She needn’t have whispered. Kolai’s volume had already drawn plenty of attention.
Trish did not look impressed.
Cin could only grin.
Of course she isn’t. She ain’t seen what I can do.
An hour later, Cin had broken the team record for the 40 yard dash at 4.35, put a D-Lineman on his ass during a bull drill, and hadn’t dropped a single pass on the short yardage skirmishes.
She’d been watching Mark Cordello. She had this shit in the fucking bag.
She’d been watching Trish Logen more.
Those eyes had only gotten harder.
“Alright Coach Logen, line ‘em up,” Cordello said, as Trish tore her eyes off of Cin to start rounding up the prospects.
Cin noticed a familiar, much redder and sweatier now, bald head a few spots down from her, and pushed over to Kolai.
“How’d it go?” She whispered.
“Oh we’ll see now,” he whispered back, at nearly deafening volume.
Coach Cordello took center stage, and gave a pretty decent speech thanking everyone for coming out, telling them all that even if they didn’t make it he was proud to have them as Cockatrices, pads or not. All winding up to the moment of truth.
“Right, well, that’s enough from me. If Coach Logen calls your name, step forward and stick around. Otherwise, once again, thank you for takin’ the chance to be here.”
The goddess stepped forward. The sun had moved enough that she’d pulled a pair of aviators out of her neckline, so her gaze was impassive as it swept over the gathered hopefuls.
The mirrored surface, her absolute banger of an aura… well, the nerd in Cin felt like she was a bounty hunter being sized up by Vader.
That gaze caught on her, for a second.
Or maybe it was just her imagination.
Trish’s lip curled, and she brought up a clipboard.
“Tennyson! Hogue!”
Kolai stepped forward, along with a dark skinned woman Cin was pretty sure had been running receiver drills.
She did not say Amie.
Cordello had begun to turn, but he stopped, scowling at Logen. He semi-surrepticiously kicked her in the ankle.
Cin couldn’t see Coach Logen roll her eyes, but she could see the sneer her mouth made before she said; “Amie.”
With all the joy of someone having to tell a fat man that the bar was out of chicken wings.
The next hour was a blur of elation, pride, and a whooooole lot of information shoved down her throat, no lube.
Cin absorbed it. She had to, she was going to be the best this place had ever seen.
But through it all, she could never quite ignore the constant glare of her idol, or the way her lip curled whenever Cin did something wrong.
Worse when she did something right.
More distracting than any of that, though, was the fact that something about that look, from that woman…
Cin was going to have to start wearing a different kind of pads to practice, or she’d end each one looking like she’d pissed herself.
Announcement Hey, two things.
First: Don't worry. This isn't gonna turn into a sports story. Football will be a way to get Cin into trouble (and Coach Logen into her). Think Blue Mountain State, which I don't think ever showed an actual game.
Second: Worried about chapter 1. Too hardcore? Scaring people off? Lmk what you think in the poll and/or comments!