Late Ch. 05

"To me you lot! We'll be doing a long jog! That's it newbie, over here at the front... And you Bob, after Sunday's game I think I'll need to get a lot more first-hand with you!"

A brunette girl with a similar, if slightly slimmer build to Bob and mousy hair stepped forward nervously, alongside Bob himself who already looked a nervous wreck after being singled out in the last practice session and subsequently putting in a woeful performance the following match. His expression changed however when he saw what Jane was wearing, as well as many other members of the congregation.

'Apparently tits are a great confidence booster,' she thought resignedly, crossing her arms as the team took a short impromptu break staring at her tits before managing to tear themselves away to join Dean on his run.

'Perhaps I should get the boys out before big games, with a bonus two squeezes for a homer.'

They'd probably make the major leagues.

'I am never wearing this again.'

Everyone began to slip into a rhythm behind Dean, who led them at a decent pace, perfect for the long-distance running which he worked on outside of Softball. A few wistful looks were still being issued over shoulders at the retreating bosom of Coach Matherson, but Jane was no longer paying attention. If she had been at all bothered, she would have realised Dean was also avoiding sprinting for his own personal comfort.

Jane, however, was too busy watching the gates like it was the final play of the season. She could have sworn she saw a mirage of a sexy young man appearing in the distance moments earlier, but it had turned out she was just going a little crazy.

"Come on you beautiful boy.... Fucking slut....."

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose hard, letting out a lung-emptying sniff to clear the dead air and wake herself up.

'Come on girl, focus.'

She hadn't had a decent amount of sleep last night, but on the flip side at least the bed had finally gotten a little bit of variety.

A hand snaked down to rub her bollocks, sore from having been milked until the early hours in an incredibly violent release after weeks of being ignored. If anyone had wandered into her bedroom last night, the sight of her jacking off into her own mouth and grunting Freddie's name would most certainly have sent them scurrying.

The team wound their way towards the far end of the field as she remained lost in her thoughts.

Jane had experimented before, but she was worried about this new mental state. If she didn't act on her affections, there was no knowing how she would cope after potentially months of unrequited lust.

'It won't be months .....OH GOD.... there he is! Just...just act relaxed.'

The small figure approached, jogging as slow as it was feasible to go without being stationary.

She assumed a casual look away to the left into the middle-distance, and then shook her head. Jane Matherson wouldn't be looking out into the distance like some air-headed bimbo, she'd be observing the runners, or setting out cones. Looking on the floor she saw they had been set up already. By her.

'Right, no problem, look at the runners then.'

She peeled her eyes at the runners with little to no focus, subtly pivoting her left leg forwards and bending it at the knee so that her right ass cheek was almost exploding out of the leggings.

'Just wait until he talks to you.'

Jane waited, ears pricked, but nothing happened, and she tried her best to use her peripheral vision to gauge how close he was, but it was tricky, and she was a bit tired, and the sun was quite bright to-

"Hey M.... C-Coach."

She would have flopped to the floor like a fish if her entire musculature had not wrested control from her brain and turned to the source of sweet music to her ears.

"Hi baby! OH uh... I mean... you're late Fred!"

The voice had come out stern, but when paired with the affectionate moniker, made little sense. Fred seemed to be flustered at hearing her slip of the tongue, and she couldn't help being immensely pleased that his face had gone a deep crimson as he tried to avoid looking at her body, his eyes pulled by invisible strings to the breasts clamped in a feverish embrace when they weren't struggling with the rest of her, trailing across muscled lines of her glutes.

'That's right... drink it in slut.'

"Yeah, yeah I guess so.... S-sorry J.... Sorry."

He was utterly hung up on her tits now, and it was making all the blood in her body descend south of her waist.

'I've got you.'

"Well... join the others."

She tried hard to keep her expression neutral, and Fred looked like he was trying to swallow something too large for his throat, whilst his hands awkwardly slid across to clasp each other in front of his groin where Jane was ninety-nine percent certain that a gorgeous little cock was hardening at the speed of sound and begging for attention.

'Good boy... stare at Mommy's tits so you can touch yourself thinking about me later......'

"R-right."

He jogged, quicker than before, and Jane couldn't help a tiny moan of longing as he retreated into the distance, eyes clamping to the bottom filling out his shorts like the most tantalising pair of ripe melons in existence. She reckoned something in her must have been related to panthers or leopards, because the sight of his exposed behind was enough to send her into a feverish rage, provoking an evolutionary instinct to strike at his exposed weakness.

'He's doing it on purpose... why would he jog with that sweet ass facing me?!'

The runners (or rather, runner) now held her attention with renewed vigour, energy levels rising... along with something else.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," she blurted, as her baby factories began to thrum with activity, womanhood inflating like a party balloon.

'Focus on someone disgusting, or you'll be bent double by the time they get back!'

Her eyes first found Terry, and an interesting internal conversation ensued as to whether she would consider sexual advances from the pretty figure. Her cheeks went red before deciding that she didn't have time to ponder her sexual preferences and needed to stare at someone less gratifying.

For once Dean fit the role perfectly.

She planted her eyeline directly at the smug face, eyebrows close enough together that they might be considered close to a monobrow, separated by millimetres of pasty skin. She could already see him berating Bob for being out of breath, which was neither a crime nor a reason to single him out (There would have to be words about that later.)

It worked a treat, and Jane was completely flaccid and tucked away by the time the team returned.

They halted, panting, and she addressed them with a sharper tone than she had managed during the whole of last week.

"Right, let's try a bit of bulldog."

Some grins broke out, especially among the more physical players, as it usually became quite an enjoyable scrap in this particular warm up game.

Dean huffed.

"Actually Jane..."

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

Dean gave her an icy look.

"Apologies... Coach... but maybe a bit more long distance might serve certain members of our team better?"

Jane didn't require his sideways head jerk to know exactly who he was talking about, and her nostrils flared.

"Well I think bulldog will be fine for everyone."

Dean looked like he was going to offer a retort, but controlled himself.

"... Very well....Kevin, Stacey, you'll be on my t-"

"It's not a team game Dean."

"Ah right... of course...."

Jane turned to the group, some of whom were grinning, including Zoey, Mo and Claire, all undergrads who shared a certain immaturity for small comeuppances such as this.

"For those of you who DON'T remember..." Terry smirked as Dean went a shade of puce. "Bulldog involves one chaser, and the rest of the team have to try and reach the far end of the field. If the chaser tackles you to the ground, you win."

Charlene raised a hand.

"I... I'm not sure about getting tackled... isn't it a bit overly physical?"

Jane gave her an understanding nod, much to the chagrin of Dean.

"Not to worry, for those who don't want to go to ground you can take a ribbon from the kitbag, stick it in your pocket or hang it from the waistband of your trousers, if anyone manages to take it from you, you're caught. When catching as a ribbon holder, simply touch the player with both hands. NO TACKLING RIBBON HOLDERS!"

Dean sidled over as some players picked out ribbons, others already marching to one side of the cones set out in a long rectangle, prepared to get dirty. She noticed Freddie leaning down to take one... and then his eyes snapped straight up to her tits, as if he knew exactly where they were at all times. She raised her eyebrows as his hand retreated from the box, going to join the rest of the player, ribbon-less.

Her hands began to fidget enthusiastically by her sides.

'No Jane, don't even think about it...'

The idea began to form unbidden in her mind nonetheless; charging after him and pulling him to the floor as he tried to skip away.... Ripping his clothes from him...

'JANE. YOU ARE NOT PLAYING...Christ, I'm going insane...'

Her nipples were beginning to press into the material in her top, and she kept her arms firmly crossed over her chest in case people saw them and exploded, many already struggling to keep themselves from salivating each time they came near her.

"Uh, Coach?"

Dean muttered under his breath to her, and she turned, flustered.

"What?"

"Coach... this gentle touch... remember we talked about it?"

She wanted to swat him away like a belligerent fly, but contented herself with a sharp retort.

"Yes. We talked about it."

"Well, I think THIS would be a prime opportunity to toughen up the softer players, you know, the school of hard knocks and all that.."

"Your concern has been noted, now get in line."

Dean became far less amenable at her order.

"Wait, hang on...surely.... I'm the captain!... so as captain I really don't think I need to participate here..."

Jane smiled.

"Oh really? Captains don't usually shirk drills... I thought we were 'toughening up', no?"

"Yes, of course, I just think as Captain that I don't require it!"

"Oh really?" said Jane, snorting as she drew herself up to her full height, looking down on him. "Suit yourself."

'Screw it.'

She marched onto the field, leaving him standing alone on the side-lines, placing herself in the centre of the rectangle marked out on the pitch.

"Right everyone, I'll be your chaser today."

Everyone's eyes went wide. Despite her gorgeous looks, the intimidation factor of Jane Matherson was no joke, fit as a fiddle and imposing with her height. Many, however, were looking rather more positively on the affair, lost in observing her rippling thighs and stomach once more, scenarios already forming in their minds of energetic mud-wrestles with their fit softball coach..

Jane had the realisation that quite a lot of people here would love to be tackled by her.

'Note to self: pick your targets, and never wear this outfit again.'

Dean grumbled on the side, and after realising there was no obvious excuse other than cowardice to remain safe, trudged over to join the rest of the team, placing himself at the furthest corner as he could. She noticed he had snuck a ribbon into his pocket, unnoticed by most of the other players.

'What a hypocritical prick...'

Target number 1.

Her gaze moved across the line to Fred's expression, which changed to a nervous smile when he noticed her looking.

'Oh Freddie.... Once Mommy is done with business you're mine boy...'

Target number 2.

She shot a tiny smile back at him before setting herself low to dodge left or right whenever needed.

"Alright, on your marks.....GO!"

The line began to run at her, players parting like the red sea to either side, although a few seemed to be trying quite hard not to stay clear; Claire, her dirty blond hair waving at her shoulders, was lagging behind in comically lackadaisical fashion.

Jane only had eyes for her first target.

Dean seemed to have pre-empted his demise upon seeing her make a beeline for his part of the field and tried to sidle to one side of Kevin, but Kevin was gone in a flash, far too athletic for him to keep up. He squeaked and moved backwards to Bob upon seeing where Jane was headed, but even Bob managed a clumsy side dodge upon seeing Jane closing in, just enough to leave Dean exposed, mid-sneak with his head lowered. His eyes bulged at her frightening pursuit, and he sprinted as slow as he had feared he would. A moment of pity crossed Jane's mind, but then, like a red rag to a bull, Dean produced his ribbon at the last moment to make it clearly visible at his waist.

There was no way in hell she could let him get away with that.

He barely got two steps in the open before Jane caught him with a pulverising tackle that nearly took his torso from his body, and Terry couldn't help a small "WOAH!" of approval as some of the other teammates hollered or winced, in many cases both.

She didn't even give him the silver lining of landing on top of him, rolling to the side and barely grazing the dirt as Dean settled heavily into the earth, entrenched like he had fallen from space.

Jane picked herself up, wiping off a fleck of the mud on her shoulder as the rest of the team reached the opposite side, many grinning from ear to ear, turning to come back, others looking with quite terrified expressions. The sheer physicality of Jane was a sight to behold, and everyone present were entranced by the way she strode to the centre like a lioness, queen of her kingdom.

"Oh sorry Dean, I didn't realise you had a ribbon there! PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR RIBBONS VISIBLE AT ALL TIMES....."

Many of the team scrabbled to make their ribbons front and centre on their person. Others regretted not going to grab one earlier.

Dean seemed unable to rise, struggling to get his breath back and probably quite heavily winded. When he got back to his feet on shaky legs, it seemed like he might puke given the green tinge In his cheeks.

"Next run... GO!"

Jane's brain was already scanning for its next target.

'Where are.......Ah, there you are my love...'

He seemed to be waiting for her to find him, and upon realising the target on his forehead, couldn't stop a smirk slipping onto his lips, beginning a sprint to her right.

"Oh, no you don't," she muttered, unable to contain a grin of her own as she moved to cut off the escape route, but then Charlene appeared in the way, and upon seeing her quite terrified expression Jane slowed her pursuit, nicking the ribbon from the woman's pocket as she did so.

"Oh blast... I really don't think this game is my forte," she said, more relieved than anything as Freddie escaped behind her.

"Just a warm-up game, don't worry Charlene, you'll crush them in the catching drills."

Charlene chuckled and Jane gave a warm smile even as her prey evaded her, coming to a halt at the far end.

She paused as Charlene and Dean came to join her in the centre, and Dean, although still winded, looked out for vengeance having been humiliated. Luckily, he had spied the target that he knew would boost his ego back to its usual sizeable proportions.

Bob's face was red, sweat rolling down his brow as he prepared for the next run, and he noticed Dean was sliding towards his side of the field, eyes laser-beamed to his forehead. The boy began to shift his hefty weight side-to-side, patting empty, ribbon-less pockets.

Jane watched this happening and her aggression flared, caught between the bright gaze of Fred and his less-than-admirable team captain.

'Don't get distracted.... it's time to put your bitch beneath you.'

"GO!" she shouted, and the runners began to fling themselves forward.

"Come on.... Come to Mummy," she breathed, tracing every step of her boy, tasting his scent in the air.

He was trying to go around the edge again, but she was already out to join him; her fingers brushing close to his sweet derriere... The minx was about to be mounted.

Then Dean moved in her periphery and her focus switched, watching as Bob scrabbled to his left, far too easy prey for the man pursuing him. Watching Bob's confidence wavering in the past week, it was clear the effect Dean was having on him, terrified as he attempted to heave himself towards his goal in the distance. She made the decision in a split second, setting her jaw and flew off after him, leaving Freddie to sprint disappointingly clear.

Her hand flicked out to snatch a ribbon from the new girl Kelsey on her way past, bee-lining to arrive at the perfect second, not too fast.... It had to look like a feasible tackle.

Freddie looked back in surprise at Jane sprinting away from him, and then realised which direction she was headed. His heart blossomed, unable to fight the attraction he felt at witnessing her bone-deep desire to right a wrong, and then in a cluster of limbs and dirt Dean was flying through the air once more as Jane clattered into him, supposedly in the process of trying to reach Terry, who had been running outside him.

"OOHHF!" gasped Dean as he was bulldozed to the floor, Jane slamming into Terry and ending up on top of her.

"OOhhh, ha, oh hi!" said Terry, a dazed look on her face, and Jane had the weirdly comfortable revelation that her breasts were pressing into Terry's much less rotund, but still pert chest.

"Hey.. Great tackle coach... phew.... Could you... Could you do it one more time just to make sure?"

Jane snorted as Terry's grin didn't completely hide the tinge of arousal in her expression.

"Oh for goodness' sake.... very funny," she muttered, trying to calm herself down as she got to her feet, Dean remaining prone on the ground.

She looked round to see Charlene holding onto Bob, who was almost relieved to be caught by her, doubly so at not being taken to the ground as a whine issued from somewhere around Jane's ankles.

"Excellent teamwork Dean," she said to the air above him whilst walking back to the centre once more. Terry flipped herself upright to join her, looking rather flushed.

'Right, where are you my baby, no more Miss nice girl......

She was almost frothing at the mouth as she locked eyes with Freddie for the third time.

After the tantalising close calls, his sweet tush evading her fingers, the calm, collected part of her personality was being overpowered by the urge to be strong, dominant. Her competitive instincts were taking over, and she promised herself that this run would be his last time he stayed on his feet.

There was a little fear in his gaze as he spotted the intensity emanating from every pore of his Coach, and Freddie realised there was now a slim-to-none chance of evading the homing missile of Jane Matherson.

As the runners caught their breath, they took stock, counting the catchers who almost outnumbered them now.

"GO" barked Jane, and when the line began to tentatively push forward it became clear that no-one wanted to be the first to go through the gauntlet. Jane helped make up their minds by sprinting like an Olympian athlete towards the area of the pitch where Freddie was.

The players in his vicinity froze, the sight of Jane slicing through the air like a gorgeous knife as intimidating as it was mind-bendingly exciting. Fred just about managed to pedal his legs into gear, managing to move faster than Kevin for a brief time who saw where Jane was headed and dodged thankfully out of the way, only to be poleaxed by Terry who took a vehement squeeze of his inside leg as she did so, in so doing formulating a joke about a 'double tackle' that would be repeated daily, much to Kevin's chagrin.