The day's activities would begin soon after waking for Paul. Barely was he out of bed when the athletes were harassing him to make breakfast. Paul cooked while they did their morning stretches, and they greedily ate everything he made and immediately asked for seconds, causing Paul to spend nearly an hour cooking. He was starting to wonder how they got by before he got here, though he suspected they could do all of these things without him but merely liked pushing him around.
Shortly after breakfast Brie emerged wearing her customary shorts and long socks, returning the “lucky” player she had plucked from the ground the previous night to his team, still naked. As he rushed to get dressed and join his teammates, Brie began hyping them up for the day's game. Apparently, Brie had quite a rivalry with this Tomi, and she had quite a lot of pride riding on this game's outcome. She threatened punishment if the team lost but promised great rewards if they were victorious. The team, for their part, seemed fully behind their owner getting one over on their rival.
After that came morning drills and once again Paul found himself running around chasing after wayward balls. His legs were already burning and he hated to consider how tired he'd be after the game. He had never been to a Tiny soccer game and never had any intention of going—that was always Brie's thing, not his. He knew it was a fairly big deal and that plenty of people watched the leagues; maybe—though this was a dim hope—Hannah would be at the game and recognize Paul, which would lead to her swooping in to rescue Paul from his sister's clutches.
It was not to be, however. When morning drills had finished and the players were cooling down and drinking some water, Brie walked into the next room and came back with the very same cage she had used to transport Paul the day before.
“Sorry Paul, but there's not really a use for you in the game and I doubt mom would want you seen out in public anyway,” Brie said. “And I can't have you free to roam around on your own, so you've got to be locked in this cage until I get back.”
Paul felt his heart drop a little but also feel a tinge of relief: he didn't think there was much of a chance of Hannah or anyone else discovering him at the game and doing something to change his situation, plus by staying here he'd be able to have a much-needed break.
“Grab a book or something,” Brie suggested half-heartedly as the team made jeering and mocking remarks. Paul grabbed a couple books from the floor at random and walked into the cage. Brie swung the door shut behind him making a loud banging sound as the door slid into place. The team laughed at him from behind the bars.
Brie then left again and returned with the team's carrying case. This one was much larger and actually had opaque walls. It was about the size of a suitcase and it was decorated with the Mashers' logo in a way that made it look like Brie had done it herself. She swung open the door—inside were two rows of comfortable-looking seats with seat belts to keep the players from getting knocked around and injuring themselves.
“All right, let's go, my Mashers!” Brie said excitedly as the team entered the case, whooping and cheering. Paul watched as they buckled themselves in place, Peter among them. When they were all in place Brie swung the door shut and once she slid her sock-clad feet into sneakers she picked up the case filled with all her precious belonging and marched to the door. Paul noticed that her sweater was also done up in the Mashers' colors.
“Be good, Paul!” Brie threw a laughing grin at her tiny, caged brother before opening the door and leaving the house, leaving Paul utterly alone.
While it was unfortunate he couldn't leave the cage, at least it was quiet and peaceful without the aggressive athletes or his titanic sister around. Paul spent some time just calmly looking around at the scenery of Brie's tinyroom before attempting to read a little bit finding himself a bit too tired. He put down the book and decided he would doze off a little; get some sleep now because who knows how much he'd be able to get later on.
After a stretch of time that felt way too short Paul hear the sounds of the door opening as his sister returned. He could only see her giant feet stepping towards him from inside the cage. Once inside the tinyroom Brie kicked off her shoes, and just by watching the way her legs moved Paul could tell she was agitated. She then dropped the team's travel case onto the ground and the look on the players' faces revealed the outcome of the game.
Brie reached down and opened the front door of the cage. “Everyone out! Line up!” Brie ordered curtly. The team morosely made their way out of the cage and into a line formation facing her. “Clothes off!” She barked. The team then undressed rapidly; once naked each player resumed looking up at Brie. She knelt down in front of them.
“Turn around.” She commanded, softer this time. “Bend over.” Now eleven bare asses were facing Brie, who smirked. From where Paul was sitting he could see the trepidation on their faces. Brie placed her index finger and thumb together, then let it fly, smacking one of the players hard in the butt. He gave a little yelp and fell forward but quickly resumed his place in the line.
“Lose to the Lashers, will you?” Brie said, flicking her little men in the ass in random order, each man scrambling to resume his position after her spank inevitably sent them tumbling with the force. “Make me look like a fool to Tomi, did you?” Brie continued her punishment. “You allowed five goals. Five! I ought to stomp the whole lot of you!”
Brie continued the spanking, hitting every player at least once but clearly targeting some more than others. One player in particular must have been hit about ten times and looked close to breaking down. Finally, Brie was satisfied.
“Stand up. Turn around.” Brie said. The men turned around to face their owner and Paul had to stifle a laugh at how red their backsides were. They looked up at her as she glowered down at them, but a smile slowly came to her face.
“Maybe there's something you can do to make this up to me.” Brie said. “Stay right there.” Brie left and walked into the other room. Creaks of her feet on the staircase could be heard and a minute later she re-emerged holding a few items in her hand including a large jar of nail polish.
“You guys are going to paint my toes.” Brie said. She reached down and pulled off her socks—even from where Paul was he could smell her foot odor. To his horror, she then reached over and opened up his cage.
“You take part in team-building exercises, remember?” Brie smirked. Reluctantly Paul walked forward to join the large, muscular team. When one of the players quipped what are you wearing clothes for? And a few others gave him dirty looks, Paul reluctantly stripped down.
Brie sat down in front of them and opened the jar of paint. Her feet were the size of busses and she had a large number of tiny brushes—everybody got one. They pushed and jostled each other over what toe they wanted to paint, and Paul was pushed in front of her left big toe, which was every bit as big as the canvases he used to give to Katelyn to paint on. Next to him in front of her right big toe was the well-abused player from before.
Brie watched in satisfaction as the muscle-bound athletes slaved over her toes, the sweaty, sweet smell of her feet overpowering. The players shot comments at each other and jostled each other a bit but not enough to mess up the paint job and incur more wrath out of Brie. Paul couldn't believe he was being forced to do this, but just concentrated on finishing the toenail as fast as she could.
“Everyone step back!” Brie commanded when she deemed that they were finished. All the tiny men obediently backed up and Brie looked down at her toes. “Not bad for a bunch of losers,” She said with a little laugh. “I guess no one's going to end up as toe-jam just yet, but don't get too comfortable. There's no MVP tonight. Come, my sweet Peter.”
Brie bent down and extended her index finger to the ground. Wearing the biggest shit-eating grin Paul had ever seen Peter walked up to her finger and wrapped himself around it, Brie lifting her companion in the air and marching out of the room.
After Brie left all the players scrambled to get dressed, but quickly their frustrations boiled over. Something more than a shoving match but less than an all-out brawl broke out, with plenty of cries of “faggot” and “pussy” being thrown around. The abused player ended up receiving several stiff kicks and punches. Paul was fortunate to escape with only a few shoves being directed his way.
“You're the shittiest Center in Gettysburg,” A player said. “Even Brie's pussy brother could play better than you. The only reason Brie doesn't sell you is she can't get anything for your worthless ass!”
Paul quickly realized that this was the Center Brie was desperate to replace. Several players added additional insults which the Center took without responding, and after everyone had said their bit he was allowed to limp back to the beds to rest off his injuries.
“That was a pretty bad one,” Kyle, the Captain, remarked to him when all the players started to disperse around their area. “Boss almost always stays around to watch us shower even when we lose.”
“I'm...sorry,” Paul said, not sure what to think. Kyle waved off his apology.
“If you want to endear yourself to the boys you'd better start on dinner now.” Kyle said. “They tend to get irate when they're hungry.”
Paul nodded and did as Kyle asked. Thankfully, the players had all calmed down and were returning to their normal, rambunctious selves. After dinner they started to play games in groups, and while Paul was not invited to join them he was at least permitted to go to his bed in peace after he was done cleaning up after them.
The next day what soon became a familiar routine repeated itself. Paul made the team breakfast before fetching wayward balls during morning drills. He got a brief break in the afternoon before evening drills and then making dinner. Showering with them was still the worst part of the day, but at least he wasn't harassed very much. In truth, the team appreciated having someone to cook and clean for them and their attitude towards Paul began to warm.
He soon learned everyone's names and a few things about them. Only two of the players made their debut with the Trashers—almost everyone had been with three, four, or more teams in the past. Apparently being owned by Brie was quite different than being owned by another team owner; most owners had a more-or-less professional relationship with their players, but there was absolutely nothing stopping Brie from using her teammates the way she did—she owned them, after all.
One of the players even sympathized with Paul's plight—his mother had been a shrinker as well. She had been a star athlete in high school before the shrank, competing against Paul's old high school around the time his mother was attending. Once she shrank she tried to break into the world of tiny sports but didn't accomplish very much given the advantage the well-bred Tiny athletes had.
“But she was still good enough to breed, wasn't she?” Another player said mockingly, earning him a shove from the shrinkee's son.
About twice a week there were games. Each night and morning before a game the atmosphere around the house got much more intense and focus. Paul never went to a game; he always stayed behind in his cage in stretches of time he came to relish. They lost the next two games as well and although they were punished like before Brie forgave them a lot more easily than before.
Paul didn't quite know which of the two sisters was a worse owner to have. Sarah had completely ignored Paul, but he at least had found some level of peace with his janitorial position rather than the hectic team assistant he now was. On the other hand, the teammates treated him better than the models had done, but still Sarah never took pleasure in humiliating him like Brie did.
In all Paul figured that this was a bit more tolerable than Sarah's. He did miss the tenderness of a female face now and then, but the atmosphere was a lot less oppressive. He didn't have someone like Barney with a vendetta against him—the scrawny, quiet Peter by comparison didn't even talk to him.
Speaking of Peter, Paul quickly learned that he was despised among the team but they couldn't lay a finger on him because of his status as Brie's companion. Condescending, obnoxious, and always weaseling his way out of doing any work, Peter enjoyed the perks of his privledged position. Paul could tell he got a real kick out of pushing around guys twice his size with no consequences.
Fortunitely Peter was much more interested in tormenting the players than he was Paul, and the players seemed willing to tolerate Paul as long as he continued to be their servant. Paul had no independent life of his own and expected he never would again, but he concentrated on just moving forward one day at a time and living for the brief hours during games that he got to be alone in his cage.
It was at the end of one of these times of peace that he experienced an event that would change the nature of his life here. Paul was woken from a much-needed nap by the sound of a door closing and his sister's giant feet walking across the floor in her sneakers. There was an immediate difference in the way Brie was holding herself from all the other times, and it was not hard to figure out why.
Grinning ear-to-ear with glee Brie put down the case containing her team and opened the front. The players ran out whooping and hollering, giving each other high fives and running around joyfully. Brie kicked off her sneakers before opening the door to Paul's cage. Warily, Paul walked to join the celebrating Thrashers.
“We've won a great victory today!” Brie exclaimed with glee, rising a cheer from the group. “We showed them all what the Thrashers are made of, and they'll never underestimate us again!” As they celebrated Paul received a hearty slap on the back which almost knocked him over.
“I'm going to cook as a victory dinner!” Brie said. “And then after...we'll see!”
More whooping and cheering from the team before Brie head off into the kitchen. The team continued noisily celebrating after she left and Paul felt his knees might buckle from all the claps on the back he was receiving. Paul noticed that between recounting the game and the playful horseplay the sweaty teammates were undressing themselves.
Soon the smell of steak was wafting in from the kitchen and the entire team was naked, including Patrick. “Take your clothes off, faggot!” One of them yelled at Paul. “We have to make the heart!”
The last thing Paul wanted to do was undress. The only thing worse than being naked in front of the team was being naked in front of his giant, horny sister. But he knew he'd surely receive a beating if he didn't, so reluctantly disrobed.
The scent of an entire team of naked muscular soccer players who had just won a game was overwhelming, but there was no chance to get away from them. They started laying on the ground and forming themselves into the position of a giant heart. Paul followed them, desperately wanting to get this over with as shouts of “Move over, faggot” and “This way, you dumbass” rang out from the team.
Finally they had all wriggled into place with Paul's head at a team member's feet and his own feet near another man's head. They laid like that for several minutes while the delicious smells from the kitchen grew until finally Brie re-emerged. As soon as she saw the heart she let out a high-pitched squee and put her hands up to her smiling mouth.
“Aww, you guys are so sweet!” Brie said, kneeling down. “I love you guys too,” She said, tracing the heart with her finger. Paul braced for the sensation of his sister's finger sliding across his own body, but at least the huge digit only spent a split second sliding over his body.
“Dinner's ready, so pile on!” Brie said, cupping her two hands on the floor. There was no way thirteen people were going to fit in Brie's hands without piling all over each other, but they had their command. All the players climbed on top of each other's nude bodies as if it were nothing, and Paul reluctantly joined them. He tried to get into a position where no sensitive part of his body was touching anyone else but it was impossible.
When Brie stood up Paul realized how unstable the pile was and clutched onto the other guys for support. “Let go of me, faggot!” One of them said and pushed against his arm and for a horrible second he thought he was going to fall, but he found his leg wedged awkwardly between the chest of another man and Brie's palm so he has held awkwardly in place.
Thankfully, the trip was short. Brie released them onto the kitchen table and the guys spread themselves out right away. Paul hadn't been in Brie's kitchen yet and surmised it must be a special treat to be here by the way the rest of the guys were acting. Brie had always been the best cook in the family and the scent here was delicious, well overpowering that of the sweaty team.
“It sure is getting warm in here!” Brie said. She reached down to the base of her sweater and pulled it off her body, revealing she was only wearing a bra underneath. Paul's blood ran cold to see so much of his gigantic sister's exposed flesh while the other guys cheered their approval. Brie was quite busty—a fact that Paul never really dwelt upon until this moment when her gigantic pair were quite literally staring him in the face.
Brie finished up her cooking while the guys talked excitedly among themselves, several coming up to tease Paul. “You're not excited to see Boss's tits?” One of the guys asked him mockingly after shoving him. “What's the matter, you gay?” The other guys laughed at Paul viciously and Paul wanted nothing more than to just melt into the table below him.
Soon Brie had a delicious stake dinner prepared on a single plate and she set it down in front of the guys. After sitting in front of them Brie began carefully cutting the steak into tiny pieces. She cut a piece for herself—bigger than any of them could finish in a month—and popped it into her mouth.
“What are you waiting for, dig in!” Brie said. The teammates pushed their way forward to rip small pieces of steak off the slices Brie had cut, and they rushed to grab handfulls of mashed potatoes and peas to nibble on. Brie's rack was just inches from them and there was never a moment when at least a couple sets of eyes were on them.
Paul joined the team in eating since he was hungry, but his stomach was queasy at the situation. Brie's tits were an enormous, distracting presence, and he couldn't help but look at them; well-rounded, supple, and full. Brie knew he was humiliated, and she enjoyed his humiliation as much as she enjoyed the lusting attention of the team.
Paul soon reached the limit of how much he could eat, and the team continued ravenously attacking the steak. Brie herself ate what seemed like endless amounts of food, and to make matters worse she pulled one of her bra straps down off her shoulder halfway through the meal. “Oops,” She giggled at her insincere mistake.
Finally dinner was done and Brie brought the plate over to the sink. Without needing to be asked the men started to pick up scraps from around the table and pile them on the napkin. They were kind to Brie normally but they were extra attentive today. They knew they were getting something good at the end of it, and Paul dare not entertain the notion of what that might be.
Brie returned to stand in front of them, her near-naked front like a vast building of feminine flesh. Paul couldn't help but notice how toned and shaped Brie's body was. Brie's fingers played with the strap of her bra and Paul's fears were a step closer to being realized.
“How about some team building activities?” Brie said at last, and a hollering cheer came from the team as if they had just won the league finals. Brie undo her bra and let if fall away from her body revealing her luscious, round full breasts to the thirteen men assembled.