Team Slut Ch. 02

When morning came, it took Kari a moment to remember where she was. Her head rose from the pillow with a groan, sleepy eyes blinking in the sunlight as her surroundings came into focus. Bright, tasteful décor; soft cushions and dark wood furniture; a sliding glass door leading to a sun-bleached balcony. The room would seem like that of a typical beach resort, if not for the whirring gaming PC in the corner. That's what finally snapped things into place: Team Salt, the bootcamp, the luxury accommodations—it all came rushing back to Kari in an instant.

Well, mostly. Strangely enough, she still couldn't remember when she'd gone to bed last night. Nor why her bra was missing and her panties were crumpled around one ankle. With a slight frown, Kari reached for the loose garment, only to feel the distinct, stiff texture of fabric that had been soaking overnight. What was more, her fingers seemed...faintly sticky...almost as if...

Wait—had she fallen asleep masturbating?

Kari scoffed aloud. Ridiculous. She was no prude, but it wasn't like her to rub herself unconscious either. Then again—she gave her fingers a wary sniff—she had been feeling rather...needy the past few days. But it was a low-level, ambient kind of longing, easily attributed to the loneliness of the compound's empty halls. It wasn't the sort of deep, desperate desire that would make her pass out in a puddle of her own arousal.

But then...how else could she explain the state she was now in? And why couldn't she remember what'd led to it?

Casting her mind back, Kari tried to piece the previous night together. She recalled the end of practice, and debriefing with her coach, though she couldn't exactly remember what they'd talked about. Then she'd gone back to her room, showered, and decided to do a little extra aim training before bed. She remembered booting up the program. She remembered feeling excited as the colorful vortexes spiraled into view. And then...and then...

Kari crossed her arms, suppressing a shiver. It was disturbing enough to lose so much time, but worse still was the fact that this wasn't the first instance, or even the fourth. It'd started with minor gaps in her memory, her practice sessions with Leurre always becoming fuzzy, colorful blurs the moment she tried to recall them. Now, a few days into bootcamp, even the time outside of practice was becoming warped and faded, like light spiraling into a black hole. Leurre had assured her that this was all part of the program—that her symptoms were merely side-effects of hyperfocus and fatigue, and should fade over time. On one hand, Kari wanted to believe that this was the case. She trusted her coach completely, of course, and believed he only had her best interests at heart. But forgetting all-night masturbation session was not something mere exhaustion could explain. It made her wonder what other memories might be missing. And what might be the cause.

Should she try to press Leurre on the issue?

A strange shudder ran through Kari's shoulders. Though the idea had seemed reasonable at first, the thought of questioning her coach suddenly felt absurd. He'd had already explained things to her, after all. To doubt his expertise would be...would be...rude...or...ungrateful or...wrong...or...

Wait...was that right?

The phone on her nightstand beeped, snapping Kari out of her conflicted daze. It was her backup alarm—shit. She would be late for practice if she didn't hurry. Kari dismissed the alarm and was just about to move on with her day when a strange notification caught her eye. She paused, peered at the message, and felt her jaw drop.

"What the hell?" Kari muttered aloud, unlocking the screen and scrolling rapidly through its contents. Her phone was showing a text conversation with Sean. A conversation that had been going on for days. A conversation she had absolutely no memory of.

SEAN: Hey, hopping on for some Quickplay. Wanna duo?

KARI: sorry. training.

SEAN: Cool cool. No worries.

SEAN: New season just dropped. Gonna grind if you wanna join?

KARI: sorry. training.

SEAN: Damn. They keepin u busy huh?

SEAN: Kari? You there?

SEAN: So, think they'll let you off the leash long enough to make Jenn's birthday?

KARI: sorry. training.

SEAN: Seriously?

SEAN: Is this like a bit or something?

SEAN: Are you okay?

Kari's eyes widened, her lips gaping in disbelief. When had she sent these? Why had she sent these? Why did her texts read like some kind of mindless robot? And why couldn't she remember ever writing them?

With a grimace, she set the phone aside. That settled it: she was stopping by Leurre's office before practice. And either she was gonna get some answers, or she was getting the hell out.

But first, she had to decide on a cute outfit for the day. After all...

"It's very important to look my best in training," she murmured to no one.

_____________________________________

Coach Leurre frowned. "I'm not sure I understand," he said slowly. "We've already had this discussion, haven't we?"

Kari swallowed, crossing and uncrossing her legs for what felt like the hundredth time. Maybe this was a bad idea. She'd thought she would be able pin Leurre down and get some answers from him, but all it had taken was a skeptical glance for her to feel like a schoolgirl caught without her homework.

"It's gotten worse," she muttered. "Like, a lot worse. It's not just pracatice anymore—I'm starting to forget...other things too."

Leurre arched an eyebrow. "What kind of things?"

Kari opened her mouth, then quickly closed it again. For a brief moment, she'd been about to tell him about her soaked panties. "It's uh, things like...like this." She lifted her phone screen. "I don't have any memory of sending these texts. At all. That's weird, isn't it?"

A flicker of concern passed across her coach's face, but it was soon replaced by a placating smile. "Not necessarily. As I said before, you've been through a rather intense training regimen. Your concentration has been laser-focused for so long, it's not surprising that some background details may slip from your notice."

"But...don't you think that...that...maybe..."

"Kari," Coach Leurre suddenly stated. "Relax."

"Yes," Kari answered automatically, eyes blinking and back straightening as she took a slow, deep breath.

Leurre paused. For a moment, it looked like he was about to pose a question, but then he just smiled, as if she'd already given him the answer. "I understand your concerns. If it bothers you this much, we can scale back the training just a bit. Or at least, introduce some variety into the mix. Actually," he chuckled, "your timing is perfect. I've just finished arranging your first pro scrimmage."

"Really?" Kari gasped. She'd been aching to try her skills against another squad, but had assumed she wouldn't get the chance until the rest of her team had arrived.

"Indeed. Though," Leurre's expression sobered, "I'm afraid your future colleagues remain unable to join us just yet. So I've rounded up some stand-ins from our backup roster; not ideal, but they're all seasoned veterans in their own right."

Kari nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Grateful though she was for the change of pace, she'd been really hoping for a chance to meet the rest of the team.

"Now now, don't look so glum," Leurre held up a finger. "This experience will still give you a feel for competition-level play, and test some of the skills we've been building. That's exciting, isn't it?"

"Sure. Right."

"And besides," his eyes gleamed. "This is still part of your training. And we like training don't we?"

Again, Kari felt her posture straighten. "Yes."

"Training is fun," her coach repeated. "Training feels good."

"Training is fun," she agreed with an easy smile. "Training feels good." They'd done this kind of call-and-response before. It seemed a little silly, but it always made her feel better in the end.

Leurre grinned. "Good girl."

Kari stiffened, eyes darting away as her heart raced. Coach Leurre had always had a slightly paternalistic way of speaking to her, but lately it'd been making her feel...strange. Normally, she didn't like being talked down to, and yet, whenever he gave her that certain look, and his voice became low and approving, it sent a warm, tingling flutter across her chest.

"So," he continued, standing. "You're going to follow my instructions and give it your all, right?"

"Absolutely." Kari beamed. "I'll always give my best to you."

______________________________________________________

Kari headed for the practice space with a bounce in her step, the morning's worries feeling miles away. The room was colder than usual when she entered, sending anxious shiver through her body. for a moment she regretted her choice of outfit—a tight tank-top and short shorts weren't exactly going to keep the chill away. Then again, she had caught a few lingering glances from her coach, so she supposed it was worth the trade-off.

As she logged on, Kari vaguely wondered if he was watching now, and if his cameras could see her nipples stiffening against the black fabric. It was a strangely intriguing thought, but it soured when she saw her new, professional Strikeforce handle.

"Is something wrong?" Coach Leurre's voice piped into her headset.

"What's with the, um..." Kari hesitated. "The letters before my account name?"

"Letters?" her coach repeated. "It's our team's tag. You know, like a callsign."

"'SLT?'"

"Like 'Salt.' For 'Team Salt.'"

Kari sighed. Could Leurre really not see how "SLT Kari" might be interpreted, especially by a rowdy group of gamers? Before she could spell out the obvious, however, the server began filling with other players, and Kari's full attention returned to her screen. This was training after all. It was important to stay focused during training.

She had to give Coach Leurre credit: he'd put together a pretty solid match. The opposition was assembled from K/9, a relatively new team with a lot of potential. Kari's own squad was made up of mostly old-school vets, players who'd competed during Strikeforce's early days and now spent most of their time as streamers and commentators. It wasn't the kind of backup she would've wished for, but for her first scrimmage, Kari supposed it could've been worse.

"Okay, seems like everybody's here," Leurre announced. "I'm going to mute myself now, but I'll still be observing and recording the session. Good luck everybody, and have fun!"

The game launched, and Kari exhaled, trying to quiet her thundering heart. She trusted her coach, trusted that his program really was improving her game. At the same time, there was a part of her that wondered if her training was enough to seize victory, or if she was about begin her pro career with a big fat L.

Relax, she reminded herself. It's just a scrimmage. Relax. Relax.

"Relax..." Leurre's voice rumbled, sending a warm pulse across her chest and between her legs and...

Kari blinked. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" one of her teammates responded.

"N-never mind." Kari shook her head. Focus. She needed to focus.

The match got off to a lopsided start. It was clear that K/9 was a seasoned team—their coordination and playmaking surpassed Kari's expectations, putting her squad at an early disadvantage. Fortunately, she and her comrades rallied as the rounds went on, and Kari managed to pull off a triple-kill that had her teammates whooping with triumph. She smiled. Maybe there was something to Coach Leurre's program after all. The change in her aim hadn't been noticeable, but she did find it pretty easy to keep her mind on the game.

At least, until she whiffed an easy kill. And a chat message from the opposing team appeared on her screen.

[K9 snypz]: nice shot, slut kari

Instantly, Kari's heartrate spiked. Her body stiffened, the voices in her headset suddenly faint.

"Whoa, did he just call her a slut?"

"That's messed up."

"Maybe he thought that's what her name stood for?

"Bro, no way."

"Kari, you there? You gonna let him talk shit like that?"

"U-uh. Um." Kari fumbled at her keyboard. Something was...off. She shouldn't have been this rattled. She'd suffered through enough gamer rage in the past to consider herself fairly inoculated to this kind of blatant misogyny. So how had such a simple message left her so upset?

Or...no...not upset. It was a different feeling. Unpleasant sure, but...not...completely so.

In fact...

"Kari wake up!" One of her teammates called, moments before a hail of gunfire tore them apart.

"Shit, sorry!" Kari winced. What was happening to her? Why was she finding it so hard to focus? She knew this snypz guy was just trying to get under her skin—she should just ignore his messages and move on. But for some reason, she couldn't stop reading them. Couldn't stop fixating on them. Couldn't stop the tightening...warming...feelings inside her.

[K9 snypz]: nice try, slut

[K9 snypz]: i own you

[K9 snypz]: sit. good girl

[K9 snypz]: now beg for me, bitch

"This fucking guy," her teammate fumed, clearly exasperated after the tenth perverted message scrolled by.

"Bro, just mute him," another squadmate chimed in. "Don't let him get into your head."

In her head. Kari shuddered. That's how she felt. He was in her head, playing with her thoughts, toying with her feelings. She felt trapped. Teased. Degraded. Controlled. It made no sense. They were the most bog-standard, unoriginal taunts she'd ever read. And yet, every message made her skin burn hotter. Her breath run shorter. Her aim drift wider. Her mind spin faster.

What was going on? Why couldn't she resist?

She was such a hopeless slut. Such a stupid whore.

"Dude, Kari, I thought you were covering that angle?"

"S-sorry," Kari stammered, voice shaking as her heart thundered.

"What is your deal? Don't you want to beat these assholes?"

"Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she likes it."

"Bro!"

"Is that true? You like being called a slut, slut?"

Kari let out an involuntary whimper, her hips squirming. The misogynist chat messages continued, and now her teammates were getting in on the fun. There was no escape. She was surrounded. Helpless. Hopeless. Humiliated.

And wet.

Very, very wet.

________________________________________________

After the match ended, Kari wanted nothing more than to run back to her bedroom, throw herself on her bed and...work out all the weird, confusing feelings inside of her. But her coach always insisted on debriefings after each session, and so she was forced to return to his office with awkward, dragging steps, her still-soaked panties squishing between her thighs, her lips mouthing prayers to every god she knew, begging them to keep Leurre from noticing how inexplicably, skin-searingly horny she was.

"I've already spoken with their coach," Leurre exhaled, rubbing his hands across his face. "He assured me this won't happen again. The rest of the team extends their apologies as well. I suppose that's the least they could do."

Kari nodded, hoping that would be the last said on the topic.

"Unfortunately," her coach continued, "I'm afraid we can't leave the discussion there."

Kari tensed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this wasn't a case of first-game jitters or being unsettled by some trash talk. Was it?"

"Um." Kari looked away, her hand clasped tightly on her lap. "I dunno. I mean..."

"Kari," Leurre murmured, in that soothing-yet-firm voice that always made her thighs clench. "There's no point in hiding it. My cameras capture more than just raw footage; they also pick up a steady stream of biometric data. But even if they didn't, it would be obvious what happened back there."

Kari fidgeted, legs crossing and un-crossing. She wanted to deny it. Wanted to be offended by her coach's implication. But such impulses were barely audible over the roaring blood in her ears.

Leurre cleared his throat. "You were...excited by those messages weren't you?"

There it was. The horrible truth. The source of the awful heat smoldering in her core. Kari nodded dumbly, feeling naked before her Coach's appraisal. The sensation sent another powerful, humiliating rush of arousal through her, her brain swimming in tingling, dizzying sensations.

"As I thought." Her coach pinched his eyes. "This...complicates things."

"It...it doesn't make sense." She swallowed. "I've gotten plenty of shitty, sexist comments in the past, but they've never made me...I mean, I've never felt..."

"It's not as strange as you might think. Human sexuality is complex, and what we find erotic can be rather fluid. It could be that you've always had a bit of a submissive streak, but never really noticed before. Or, it's possible that, for whatever reason, this particular situation has...awakened something inside you."

Kari stared at the ground, her face hot and flushed, her coach's words burning in her ears.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Leurre assured her. "Plenty of women like to be dominated—it's a fairly common fetish. That being said," he sighed. "The timing in this case is problematic."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...look, I don't want to cause you any undue worry. And speculating about worst-case scenarios rarely does any good. But..." He crossed his arms, a deep frown weighing on his lips.

"Y-you can tell me," Kari urged him on. "I'm going to worry either way."

Leurre nodded. ""A fair point. After all, you don't want to let the team down, do you?"

The question caught Kari slightly off guard, and yet the answer slipped effortlessly from her mouth. "I do not want to let the team down. I want to do everything I can for the team." She blinked suddenly feeling grounded. Relaxed, even. Despite how odd her voice had just sounded.

"Very well," Leurre exhaled. "Here's the problem as I see it. Despite our best efforts, word of today's scrimmage will probably spread to other teams. Since Strikeforce is such a competitive sport—and since our organization already has a target on its back—the rest of the league will want to seize on this potential advantage. That is, they'll want to test just how easy it is to rattle you. And they won't be as obvious as K/9. They'll work subtly, inside and outside the game, in ways that we can't easily call out of punish. Ordinarily, we'd be able to weather this sort of thing, but your new fetish could pose a problem. Erotic fixations are often most...potent early on, when the sense of novelty and discovery is strongest. So while other teams are trying to push your buttons, you'll be at your most vulnerable to having your buttons pushed. If they're successful, and the pattern repeats, it could create a vicious cycle. Constant arousal will lead to defeat, and constant defeat will lead to arousal." He met her gaze. "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?"

Kari nodded, the thought filling her with dread. If the scenario Leurre had described came true, she'd be completely at the mercy of her opponents. They wouldn't even have to do anything—at that point, she would expect to lose, to be dominated and degraded like the useless slut they thought she was. She might even to start to crave it, to desire being treated like a dumb pet, trained and tamed and desperate for approval, her hopes of becoming a pro player lost in a vortex of helpless, horny...

"H-how—" She swallowed, struggling to speak. "How can we stop it?"

Leurre drummed his fingers on his desk, appearing deep in thought. "The only solution I can think of is a bit...unconventional. But I believe it's what's best for the team." He met her eyes again. "Is that what you want?"