Kat Fetish

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“Kat? Never thought I’d see you here.”

I blinked. I’d been zoning out about rugby again. I’ll be the first to admit I think about it a bit too much. I’ve hardly touched a football lately, which, if you’d known me a couple of months ago, would surprise you. I thought I’d finally found the ultimate team sport, it really pushed all my buttons.

My eyes flicked up. Kasy carried a good workout flush and a fine sheen of sweat on her exposed skin. We’d been mates for a while on the football team, but she’d quit after one too many hard tackles, saying it was all a bit rough for her, and gone off to do… what? “Hey,” I managed, catching my breath. I’d been doing short sprints up and down the hundred meter track. Being small means you have to be fast in rugby.

“I thought you said running was so boring you’d rather eat a dodgy biscuit,” Kasy reminded me helpfully.

I had a million witty comebacks but my attention was being dominated by her outfit. She was wearing a sleeveless lycra thing that covered her from her thighs to her neck, and she was wearing it in a way that made me jealous. It was patterned in our uni’s colours, blue and mint and teal and some black bands criss-crossing it all, it was a nifty design. Heavy stitching stood out on the pale mint that swooped down over her crotch and I think my eyes lingered there a bit too long. Long enough for her to get the wrong idea, possibly. “Yup,” I said eventually. “Still hate it. Doing it anyway. The fuck are you wearing?”

She grinned at me. Her mouth seemed wide in her face. It didn’t look like she’d lost weight since I’d seen her, but it had moved around some. She had some muscles I’d have struggled to identify. “I’m so fucking good at triathlon, they made me captain. Doesn’t do anything for my tits, does it?”

Strapped into the tight lycra, she looked like her upper half was all muscle. Pecs rather than boobs. “Didn’t think you cared about that sort of thing.” Looking at some of the heavier girls on the football team, we’d said that we’d rather cut ours off than let them slow us down. Since we barely mustered an A-cup between us, it wasn’t ever more than a joke.

Kasy smiled at me. “I forget you’re not a boy sometimes, Kat. I don’t have to flirt with you to get my way.”

“Uh-oh,” I said, smiling back. “You recruiting for the lesbian mafia again? I keep telling you, I’ll fuck anything once but I don’t do sleepovers.”

That’s almost true. I’m not exactly discriminating but I’m not looking for feelings, either. I don’t seem to have that kind. Not like I have when I think about rugby.

“Such a bloody romantic, you,” she said. “So, I was thinking, best of ten sprints? And when I beat you, you come try out for triathlon?”

It didn’t take long for me to decide. Rugby, or football, they’re all about short bursts. Running and swimming, and that other one, whatever, they’re pure endurance. Boring. There’s no ball. I reckoned I could take her, fancy suit or no. “What do I get?”

“I’ll do the thing.”

My eyes widened. “You said you’d never…”

She cut me off. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t be, will I?”

Newly motivated, I was in a hurry to set up a second set of starting blocks for her. “Thirty, fifty, or a hundred?” I asked her.

“Say fifty?” she replied. A compromise between speed and endurance.

She toyed with me for all of thirty meters, then looked over at my red-to-bursting face and kicked into some higher gear that mere mortals didn’t have on their stick. I stuck it out for three more before giving up. She beat me by ten meters every time, and she didn’t seem to be trying very hard. “Why… the fuck… are you… so fast?” I panted.

She affected a slouch and a pair of imaginary shades. “Honey, I’m just that good.” She looked at her watch. “Bring your gear over to the clubhouse, we’ll pick you out a locker.”

I grumbled, but I gathered my things. I am honourable that way. “So I’m a triathlete now,” I muttered. “Fuck.” I was already pining for rugby, my brutish lady love.

Kasy, that fucking rogue, already had my fucking name on a locker. This was a stitch-up. “You sneaky… thing.”

She peered at me, probably wondering if the lack of profanity meant I was having a stroke. “Oh dear, have I gone too far? Does oo want to wun away and pway with your bawls?” she baby-talked at me.

I bristled, literally. I keep my hair short enough to do that. “Fine. Sneaky fucker.” I opened the locker to dump in my bag. There was a blue, teal and mint suit hanging in there already, the twin of Kasy’s. I slammed the locker shut. “No, uh-uh, not.”

I am not ashamed of my body. I… have no feelings about it, particularly. It’s fine. It works for me. Clothes, on the other hand. Clothes are speech. You have to be careful what you say, with clothes. The lycra suit said things like, I Am A Poser, No Really, Such A Poser, and Look At Me, Look At Me, I’m a Fit Fucking Poser.

Kasy just grinned at me and checked her watch again. Right on time, the rest of the casino oyna team started to show up. In about a minute the changing room was loud, in another it was deafening. I stood there glowering, I mean obviously I was already wearing kit for running in, a black tee and shorts, neither of which was particularly tight, so I didn’t need to be braying about my chafed thighs at the top of my voice to every posh horse-faced…

On the other hand, when they started putting their kit on something changed. They got quieter, maybe? You know popcorn, when the first one pops, then another, then suddenly they all go at once? It was like that, I swear, but with the zippers. Zip. Zip. Zipzipzipzipzipzip. Zip. And then there were a dozen fit, short-haired, flat-chested Kasy-clones standing around looking… dangerous. Kasy gave me a meaningful look and I could feel a blush forming. I turned my back and started to pull off my kit.

The other girls bustled but I could feel their eyes checking me out. Where had Kasy found so many identical lesbians? I shivered a little as it occurred to me that maybe she hadn’t.

Maybe she’d made them.

She’d snuck up on me while I was trying to figure out how to get the damn thing off the hanger. “Let me,” she said, unzipping the thing. She glanced down. “Knickers too, Kat. This’s got you covered.”

In a fit of rebellion I took my sports bra off as well, but that just made her grin wider. She held the suit out for me to step into and slithered it up my legs. I poked my arms through and went for the zip but she had a firm grip of it already and dragged it up while looking mischievously into my eyes.

It was fucking snug. The top held me flat as a board across my chest. The padding between my legs conspired to be soft and snug at the same time. I shifted my weight uneasily. Kasy slid a palm between my legs and smoothed down the fabric there, completely unnecessarily.

Lucky I’m not turned on by displays of dominance or I’d have been weak-kneed already. At some point silence had fallen. Kasy draped her arm over my shoulder and turned me around. The other girls were waiting expectantly. “This is Kat,” said Kasy. “Meet Kris, Kate, Karen, Kay, Kit, Kate Too, Kai, Kerry, Katey…”

“Stop taking the piss,” I grumbled at her. My palms itched. I wanted to run them over my new outfit but I didn’t really want everyone to see me doing it. I felt hot and weird being the center of attention. That’s one reason why I’d been so into rugby lately. I could literally disappear into the pack. With uniforms and mud sometimes you could hardly tell us apart. It was a feeling I’d never known I’d been chasing until I tried it.

On the other hand, I had a lot in common with these girls physically already. Now we were all wearing the same, eugh, shiny skintight gear. Maybe from a distance you wouldn’t know.

Then again, when you’re so far behind they take turns dropping back to give you encouragement, that’s when you really stand out. I’m no slouch, but the pace on them was not something I could sustain over 10k. Given that I can run about chasing a ball for eighty or ninety minutes, no problem, I could only blame the suit for slowing me down.

Duh, I know. They were just fucking miles fitter than me, and I hated it. On the final stretch Kasy chivvied me back to the changing room with non-stop chat that went in one ear and out the other. By the time we got there I was practically blind with sweat and my legs were on their last… I was tired, OK? I sat down on the bench by my locker and let my limbs become noodles.

One of the girls offered me her sports drink and I downed it all without thinking. “Uh… sorry.” She just smiled sweetly at me. I couldn’t even begin to think about the contortions that would be necessary to get the fucking lycra off, but half of them were changed and out the door before I’d even managed to get my trainers off.

The other half were dawdlers. They hadn’t showered or changed out of their lycra. I hoped they weren’t going to make me run anywhere again for at least a month. That sounded like the ideal time between training sessions to me.

You could tell when Kasy was in the room because things got quiet again. I wasn’t too tired to notice some heavy non-verbal communication was going on, but I was too tired to care. I reckoned I would just wait for them all to leave, have a little sleep on the bench, and then take my sweet time about changing.

Kasy had more plans, though, obviously. “C’mon Kat, we’ve got a thing for you upstairs. Kind of a welcome to the team.”

I rolled my eyes at her incessant perkiness. “Oh, alright.” I staggered to my feet and waved off her offer of an arm. We trooped up the staircase, Kasy keeping me company at the back again. I eyed the girls’ bums flexing in their lycra with a certain amount of jealousy. I hoped mine looked half as good.

There really is only one practical use for leather cuffs, so I engaged my backwards gears as soon as I laid eyes on them. I bumped canlı casino right into Kasy, who wrapped her arms under mine and across my chest. She basically lifted me off my feet and carried me forward. I heard the lock snick behind me. I struggled silently, tried to kick out, but Kasy was some new kind of hard that I hadn’t seen before, both cardio fit and muscle fit, and besides, they’d already drained my reserves.

“Get her feet,” Kasy ordered. “Hands. Yeah, hook ’em up.”

There was a girl for each of my limbs, and another whose job it was to fit the cuffs while they controlled them. She went round to each in turn, then when they got the nod they all dropped me, and Kasy gave me a push forwards. I had a step or two of freedom before I realised that something was up, then I felt a yank and my feet flew out from under me. I crashed to my knees and turned my head to avoid a face-plant, but my landing was unexpectedly soft. Then my shoulders screamed at me that they’d been on the receiving end of some unpleasantly rough behaviour and would I please do something about it, which was all the time I had before they popped the ball gag in my mouth and tied off the hogtie.

It was like they’d done this before, the fuckers. Still, I wasn’t too worried yet. The stories they told about hazing the new members of the rugby team were sometimes a little scary, but nobody ever ended up actually hurt. This was something like that, right? Just, a little bit less consensual?

I interrogated them in detail around the fat ball in my mouth but all I managed to do was work up a load of spit that had nowhere to go. It was like they were ignoring me, the fuckers. I started jerking around, trying to get my fingers to whatever knots secured me, but without any luck. It’s one thing to have heard the word hogtie used casually in some allegorical context, and another to be trussed up on the floor, draining your last dregs of strength against inescapable bondage.

Well, inadvertently humping the floor made me a little bit happier. Kasy smiled over at me and I deflated. She’d stitched me up good and proper. I’d never have imagined she had it in her to be quite so cunning, it was like she knew my weaknesses or something.

There was a low murmur as they started to go through my stuff. I frowned crossly and wiggled uselessly on the floor while they spread the contents of my bag out on the big table. “I think she wants to see,” said one of the girls, possibly a Kate or Katey.

They came over to me and Kasy directed them. Four pairs of hands hoisted me carefully and plonked in the middle of the table. I moved my head around to try to see what they were all up to, tried to wiggle myself around for a better look. All it took was a hand on my bum to keep me in place, though, and there were at least two on me at any time. Kasy sat at the head of the table and stroked the back of my head idly while she took reports. I’ve always been a sucker for having my short hairs tugged so my best indignant expression faded into a pathetic wounded look.

“Got her uni mail,” said one voice. A pat on my bum accompanied it.

“Calendar coming up,” said the girl who was tooling around with my phone.

“Team two reporting the roommate’s out, packing a bag and leaving the note,” said another. I tried to spot my house keys on the table but I couldn’t see them anywhere. Were they at my place?

Kasy nodded along. “Good job everyone. I’ll make the call.” She tapped at her phone. “George, you brawny slut! Yeah, it’s me. U-huh. Yeah, she’s taken care of. Won’t bother you again, I reckon. No you’re welcome. Honestly, this one’s going to be fun. You want to talk to her? ‘Kay, but she can’t talk back right now.” She laughed. “Yeah, I know. I know. Here you go.”

Kasy held the phone up to my ear. “Sorry about this, Kat,” said a voice. It was Georgette, second-team rugby captain. My blood ran cold. “It’s not personal.”

I must have gone a funny colour trying to scream because Kasy pulled the phone back sharpish. “Right then. I’ll call you later to settle up. Bye, George.”

Kasy hung up. I had tears in the corners of my eyes, I was so angry. I struggled anew, but there was nothing I could do. I was thoroughly helpless, trussed and tamed. Kasy carried on rubbing the back of my head and eventually I calmed down before I choked on my own spit.

I was wondering if this was what it was like to get dumped when you thought you were totally in love and that it was mutual. I’ve never got tangled up in all that with people, but my relationships with sport have admittedly been all-consuming.

I was good at rugby, dammit. I made the team better.

I didn’t get weepy, though. I might have been helpless at the moment, but that wouldn’t be for long. And then I’d see about this.

Kasy was looking at me with a smirk on her face. Like she knew what I was thinking. “Settle down, Kat. We’ve only just begun,” she said. “Are we about done with Phase One?” she asked her troops.

Clipped affirmatives kaçak casino rang out. I couldn’t help but appreciate the speed and discipline with which they’d sprung their trap. Surely they wouldn’t be able to keep it up, though? My roomie would ask questions, my mum would ring up, the other girls on the rugby team…

…would believe whatever George told them. And had any of them actually ever got in touch with me, personally, not through some generally addressed message to the team mailing list? Was I, in fact, mates with any of them?

I was starting to wonder, about a lot of things. How had Kasy convinced all these girls to go along with this borderline psychopathic kidnapping? Was that something I was going to find out, first-hand?

“Phase two, then,” said Kasy. The girls sprang into action, clearing up my stuff and packing away their bits and pieces.

They hoisted me between them again. My muscles, at first loose from running, were starting to stiffen up, but they weren’t rough.

Then they put a hood over my head and I started to panic a little. I recognised Kasy’s hot hand on my head. “Just breathe, Kat. Breathe.”

I wasn’t about to get away, was I. Blind and tied and surrounded by hard bodies. Then I felt a welcome slackening of my bonds. Hands on each limb unfolding me, massaging some feeling back into my soreness. It was kind of nice. They stood me up and held me when I wobbled, then it was a tight, supportive frogmarch down the stairs and into the fresh air.

If I was going to do a runner now would be the time. I’d get all of about two steps. Kasy pushed my head down and I figured out we were getting into a vehicle. They strapped me in to the middle seat, then roped my cuffs together at the wrists and ankles. I sat there like a modest little miss, prim and proper and fuming. One on each side, Kasy up front, probably in the passenger seat from what I could hear. I was still gagged and that was starting to annoy me.

The drive wasn’t long, but town wasn’t that big. I got lost after a couple of turns anyway. When they pulled off the hood we could have been on the fucking moon for all I knew, if the moon had isolated farmhouses. I didn’t get a good chance to look around, because they half-marched, half-carried me in pretty quick. It was nice inside, cosy. Clearly there was more than one person living here.

Looking at the trainers racked neatly by the door, the row of hangers with identical tracksuit jackets I figured it out pretty quick. They all fucking lived together in one huge gay triathlon house in the middle of nowhere. We passed a small weights room, and a bigger one with a pair of massage tables that reeked of salve.

Their jackets looked pretty nice though. I wondered if they had matching trackie bottoms, and if I’d be getting some.

Kasy took the gag off me in front of the bathroom mirror, which was a wise choice, because I nearly puked into the sink. She had a drink for me which she helped me sip at. I kept my mouth shut while I looked at myself. Apart from the frown-lines, I had to admit I looked pretty fit in the lycra suit.

“Feeling better?” she asked me.

“This is a bit much, isn’t it?” I told her. “If you wanted a snog you just had to ask. You already did, once.” We’d had a night of fun after a match one time, still in our football kit.

“Yes, please,” she said. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She was a decent kisser, so I let her have her way for a bit, then kissed her back.

“Can you take these off now?” I asked her.

“Not just yet, Kat,” she said. “Let me make my pitch first.”

“I’d be a lot more likely to listen to your reasons for messing with my life,” I reasoned.

“Oh, there won’t be a lot of talking,” she assured me. Her solid arm around my shoulder helped me shuffle off into a room nearby.

The girls were waiting there again, more of them this time. Team two must have got back from ransacking my place. Once again I was struck by how similar they looked, the lycra of course, but they all cut their hair the same way, short and practical, they all stood the same way, attentive and alert. It was more than a little intimidating.

Kasy gave them the nod and they started fixing my restraints into a scaffolding frame that occupied the back of the room. I didn’t see the point of resisting, and they didn’t need my help. With strategically placed padding, it was as comfy as you could get, if you were looking to get tied down on all fours in mid-air. Only my eyes told me my position was precarious, everything else felt as solid as a rock.

Of course, the big old gap between my legs told me most of the story. When Kasy pulled out the enormous fucking vibrator I thought I knew what I was in for. “First team?” she said.

Two of the girls stepped forward. One of them took the vibe. The other one stood in front of me and stroked my cheek. Then they went to work. The girl with the vibe ran it all over my body, and it felt great, but before too long she slid it between my legs and leaned right in. The pressure was incredible, even through the crotch padding of the suit, it was like getting tackled and thumped to the ground by a big lass, over and over.

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