Life at Brie's house went on much the way it did before after that night; to the guys on the team the experience was nothing new, though the way they talked about it he gathered that it was one of the more memorable and enjoyable encounters they had had with their owner in quite some time.
It was very hard for Paul to see Brie in the same light after that night. Yes, she had teased him before, but to throw out any trace of family loyalty and history she had with Paul and treat him as just another toy to be used was a harrowing experience. But it wasn't just that she treated him like a toy—it was definitely personal, vindictive even. Paul wondered if he had been that bad of a brother to provoke such a response. He and Brie had always been trading barbs; a very exasperated Sarah had played the role of peacekeeper many times throughout their childhood. Paul just couldn't believe the extent Brie was milking her final victory over him.
Paul thought back to the last little spat they had had, literally twenty four hours before he shrank. Brie had mocked him for Jen coming on to him, and Paul had made some snippy comment about Brie not being able to find a guy. Was this partially revenge for that? By saying that Brie was unable to get a boyfriend had he been teasing her sexual frustration, and she had had her revenge by using him to overcome that frustration?
It was possible he was overthinking things, but one other part of that final argument stuck with him; “I don't need a man, I have my team” She had said. And it was true—the Mashers were slavishly devoted to her. And it wasn't just because she owned them—they never spoke ill of her when she wasn't around, they talked about her a lot and discussed ways to make her happy. For sure a lot of the discussions revolved around purely physical attributes and actions, but it was clear they all had a high degree of loyalty and even love for Brie.
This lead Paul to come to the conclusion that while Brie was not dating a Big man, her soccer team as a collective unit was acting as a surrogate boyfriend. It made a lot of sense—she acted much like an overly obsessive girlfriend around them, and it was more than just sports related. She always was trying to figure out what they were thinking and tried to make them happy. Sure, she took the lead in the relationship and could be quite harsh when they fell short of her expectations, but that was to be expected with the size difference. Whereas Sarah's much larger operation was only a side project in her life, the Mashers were at the center of Brie's life.
This was all fine and good for the team, but as far as Paul was concerned he hated his life here. He hated the constant jabs and insults by the team members, he hated doing all the chores for them, and he hated the fact he was never alone. But more than all of it, he hated the way Brie and the team interacted. It truly was like he was the third wheel in a highly dysfunctional relationship, and he was forced to watch his sister act flirty and downright horny on a daily basis. Paul couldn't believe he would ever think this way, but he found himself nostalgic for his brief weeks as a janitor at Sarah's op.
The weeks wore on; the team would have a game every few days and Paul would dread those days. Even though the hours Brie and the team were away were the precious moments he could spend alone, he knew there was always the chance they could come home victorious. A loss usually meant a punishment and the team was extra aggressive towards him, but it was still better than a win, because a win meant a repeat of what they euphemistically called a “team-building exercise”.
There were two other victories after that first one and both resulted in Paul making a return trip to Brie's bedroom along with the team. Thankfully he didn't see the inside of Brie's cunt either of those two times; one of the times he was on her breast, grabbing hold of her nipple while Brie fucked herself with different team members. The other he was trapped inside her sock against her foot, which had been horrible—it was smelly, dark, and humiliating—but it was still not as bad as that first day.
Paul didn't know how long he could keep living this way. Would he eventually go numb to it all? Would he carry out his duties robotically, feeling nothing as his sister used him in any way she pleased, as the team members would insult and harass him? Or would he eventually snap, and provoke a response from Brie or the team that would make life even worse?
At moments Paul considered running away. He was sure there had to be a way to sneak out of the house. He could sneak out, and wander the streets of Gettysburg looking for someone to take him in, anyone. It would create a big scandal when he was found and it was found out who his mother was. Knowing this had all happened to her son would badly derail Doris's career and efforts for Tiny rights. But Paul didn't care anymore; his mother, Sarah, Brie, he was growing to hate them all for putting him in this situation. If only he could find Hannah and stay with her. He fantasized about it often—he would hide in her parents garden and wait for her to get home from school. When he saw her he'd jump out from behind some flowers, and Hannah would be surprised but thrilled to see him and pick him up and bring him inside. She'd listen to his stories, hug him tight and tell him it was all over now, and that he'd be her companion for the rest of time.
But he knew that fantasy would never come true, and he'd stay as Brie's property for the rest of time. He could see his future and it looked bleak.
But little did he know his time at Brie's was coming to an end.
The day it happened was very normal; Brie put the team through their morning exercises, then went out for most of the afternoon and expected them to do their evening drills on their own, which they of course did. Paul even had a fleeting thought that his body was finally starting to be fit enough to keep up with his duties as a ball boy, and he felt an almost perverse sense of pride in that, though it shamed him to admit that to himself.
It was just after sunset when Brie returned, and the moment the door opened and Brie stepped into the house Paul noticed something was different about her. She was walking with a bit of an extra skip in her step and there was a barely contained smile of pure excitement on her face. She was usually only this happy when the Thrashers won a game, and even that didn't get this exact kind of reaction out of her. It had a different flavor to it; there was no other way Paul could think to put it.
The athletes all noticed it too, and they elbowed and shoved each other on their way to great her. It seemed they believed a surprise “team building exercise” was in the cards tonight and they were eager to show their willingness to take part.
“Hello sweeties, I brought you dinner!” Brie said brightly, taking some of Doris's cooking out of her bag and opening it on the ground for the team's consumption. With their normal shoving and horseplay the team dug in, Paul only elbowed his way in meekly once everyone else was deep into stuffing their faces. If Paul hadn't been keeping his head down and avoiding looking up into his sister and owner's face he would have noticed Brie's eyes on him quite a bit more than normal.
Shower time followed dinner time, and Paul roboticly followed the excited athletes to the showers. Excited phrases were passed between them; “Wash yourself real good tonight, boys.” “Looks like we're going in” and the like. Brie kicked off her shoes and sat on the floor, her trademark multicolored socked feet facing the team. The excitement on her face was palpable and it seemed she was making an effort not to play with herself right in front of them for a change, and it was clearly an effort for her.
Soon the shower was over. “Line up, team!” Brie said, the athletes rushing to form a line, many of them already erect. Paul stood among them as he was required to do. “This is it.” He heard one athlete whisper to the next.
Brie sat down in front of her team in a frog position, the bottoms of her feet touching and toes pointing at the men in front of her; camel toe clearly pressing against her shorts behind her heels. The men looked up at her with wrapt attention as she brought her finger forward and started running it across the assembled team at waist-level, brushing each man's cock.
“My lovely team,” Brie said fondly as she touched each tiny dick one by one. Paul tensed up as her massive finger brushed against his. “You've been so good to me, you've worked so hard. Well, maybe except for you.”
She lightly tapped her fingernail upwards to bump the junk of the poor hapless center who was often maligned as a scapegoat for the team's problems. Of course, to him it was the equivelent of being kicked full-force and he exclaimed in pain as he doubled over. Everyone else on the team laughed uproariously as the poor athlete struggled to get back on his feet and rejoin the line lest he receive more punishment.
Brie laughed airily as if she had just made a lighthearted tease. “But that will be changing soon, oh yes it will.” She said, and suddenly the whole team got stiff and quiet. If there was going to be a change to the roster it would be a massive shift to both their gameplay and to the social pecking order around the house. Basically, Brie had just casually hinted that their entire lives were about to change.
“But don't worry yourselves about that tonight,” Brie said, still all smiles. “Because now it's time for me to pick my MVP.”
There was a low, almost imperceptible moan from many of the athletes. It seemed they had guessed wrong and that a full-team romp was not in the cards for tonight. But at least it meant that Paul was safe; Brie would disappear for the night with her toy for the evening and he would be stuck with a bunch of blue-balled athletes now uncertain about their future.
Brie's smile widened; she was drinking in the anticipation of the team. Her eyes fell on to each of them in turn; not one face looked away from her. It was clear to Paul at least that she had already made up her mind but she was dragging this out for her own amusement.
“I will pick, I will pick...” Brie said, her finger moving back and forth. “I will pick...YOU!” And her finger swung around to point directly at Paul.