Hoops & Hulks (FMG, Femdom, height

[SteelScripter]

HOOPS & HULKS

This novel is a work of fiction. All characters and places are fictional and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Early access chapters are available on Patreon.

CHAPTER ONE
******

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Sierra tapped the ‘snooze’ button on her phone’s alarm, her body still aching. It was early morning—the sun hadn’t risen yet, though hints of light squeezed through her bedroom drapes in soft, pale streaks. Today wasn’t going to be like any other day. Today was going to be hell.
   How could I miss that shot?
   She should have made it. The rim was so close, within paws’ reach, yet somehow the ball didn’t connect. All those years of practice only to toss the school final.
   She buried her head in her pillow, hoping the darkness would ease her up. “Fuck my life,” she said, voice muffled.
   Footsteps approached the other side of her door. They were quick and heavy and brought an impending sense of doom. “C’mon, Sierra,” her mother shouted. “Breakfast is on the counter. Unless you want to catch the bus on an empty stomach?”
   “Yeah, coming.” Sierra pulled herself out of bed and rubbed her eyes groggily. She tore the blinds open and squinted at the blinding dawnlight of Havenville. At least it wasn’t raining today, although the sky was still cloudy and grey.
   She trudged over to her wardrobe, which was fitted with a large mirror at the front. Starving myself at this point might not be such a bad idea. She was skinny enough to look the part of a malnourished girl, with little to no fat or muscle on her six-foot frame, despite her love of food. Her long, wavy hair was a tangled mess, with a few loose strands falling across her heart-shaped face. She brushed them aside, revealing her high cheekbones, full lips, and straight, delicate nose. Her almond-shaped eyes were a deep brown, framed by thick, dark lashes. They were the only features that seemed to stand out from her otherwise plain appearance. It could be worse. I could have fallen on my ass. Her eyes lingered down her lanky body, stopping at her thong. If I had an ass.
   The only saving grace were her quads, which had built up quite a bit of muscle over the many years of running, jumping, and dipping across the courts. Her boyfriend, Jackson Harper, thought they looked sexy, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to infatuate him with legs; he had something of a fetish for long legs, and having even a bit of muscle on them would light his pipe right up. Still, she loved him. They’d been dating ever since freshman year. He had a cute face and a funny personality that didn’t feel forced.
   Were all funny men horny? Who knew, and more importantly, who cared?
   It took her less than ten minutes to hop into the shower, brush her teeth, get dressed in her black-and-red plaid shirt and bluejeans, and apply a splendid ocean perfume. She headed downstairs to the kitchen, hearing the hum of conversation from her younger brother and older sister.
   Half past seven. The bus would be here in ten minutes. That left plenty of time to finish her breakfast, but today she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry for…
   The kitchen table was almost hidden beneath a heap of large cardboard boxes. Sierra’s sister, Madison, dug a large kitchen knife into the tape of one of the boxes, pulled it back with a loud rip, and pried the flaps open with her fingers. She finally got the gym equipment she’d ordered two weeks ago. Exactly why Madison wanted gym equipment was a mystery to Sierra, especially since she didn’t play any sports and spent most of her time either working at the Parisons call centre or going out drinking on Friday nights – unless of course she was going through one of those phases. Oh, Sierra knew the sort. This was her fitness phase. Before that, it had been music, playing the guitar and piano – she’d gotten pretty damn good at it too – and before that it had been cosplaying. She used to spend her free weekends designing costumes of anime and video-game characters. She wasn’t particularly good at that.
   Now there was this. It probably wouldn’t last much longer than a month.
   “I was worried it got lost in delivery.” Madison pulled out one of the dumbbells. It was small and mustn’t have weighed more than five pounds. She curled it. She looked a lot like Mom, with a sharp, tan face, long neck, small, watery blue eyes, and luxurious blonde hair that easily tied back into a ponytail. Mom used to say she would grow up to be a model – Sierra thought Madison would be lucky to get anything that paid above minimum wage.
   “How much did that cost you anyway?” Sierra went to grab a plateful of eggs and bacon from the kitchen counter. Luckily, it was still warm.
   “A thousand dollars for the set,” said Madison without looking at her.
   “That sounds needlessly expensive. Especially for something you’re just trying out.”
   Perhaps it had something to do with the fact she was making good money and wasn’t planning on buying a place of her own anytime soon. She had only recently graduated from high-school and, instead of jumping straight into university, decided to take a gap year in which she would build up as much work experience as possible. She wanted to work with computers, and an entry-level position in the technical care sector at a call centre would give her a taste of what to expect.
   Sierra had no idea what she wanted to do after high school. She wasn’t the sharpest student, nor was she the best athlete (especially after yesterday). She was plain, boring, talentless. She might not excel at anything, ever.
   “You should get into that, Sierra,” said Mom, her voice appearing with the suddenness of a ghost in a haunted house. The sound of the kitchen faucet squeaked to a stop, and she appeared from around the kitchen-living-room divider, drying her hands off with a piece of blue roll. Despite being forty-five, she looked to be in her early thirties, and the reason for that could be chalked up to her keeping active at the deli in Piper’s Pieces around the block. It was a strenuous job from what Sierra heard.
   “Into what?” said Sierra, biting into a bacon strip.
   Mom made her way over to the bin, doing air bicep curls. “Working out,” she said. “It might help with your basketball.” She popped the trashcan lid open with a step and threw away the piece of blue roll.
   “Don’t girls get manly when they lift weights?” asked Braeden, staring at Mom foolishly. He was small and skinny for his age. He had a thin face, dark hair, and bottle-green eyes.
   Mom was already pacing towards him. “Where’s your backpack? I told you to bring it down.”
   Braeden’s eyes widened and his mouth opened further. “Righto!” And he hurried upstairs to rummage through his room. It wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten to do that. He had ADHD.
   “God, look at the time!” Mom grabbed her keys from the coffee table and made her way over to the coatrack. As she threw on her silver jacket, she said, “You’ll want to make a move now, Sierra. The bus’ll come soon. And I’m not driving both you and your brother to school again.”
   “I got it, Mom.” Sierra put the plate down, went to the understairs storage unit, popped it open, and grabbed her bag.
   “Come on, Braeden!” said Mom.
   On cue, Braeden ran downstairs, his Spider-Man backpack large on his shoulders.
   Mom opened the door and he rushed out. She checked her watch. “Now, Sierra.” She left the door open for her on the way out.
   “Just so you know,” said Madison, “if you ever want to use my gym set, ask me. I don’t want you breaking anything.”
   Sierra sneered, tightening her backpack straps. “Yeah, like I’d want to use your equipment.” She checked her phone for any messages, saw there was one from Jackson – ‘Parking lot before school?’ – and replied with a thumbs-up. “A thousand dollars. That’s crazy, Mads.”
   “Considering you spent more than that over the last few years on basketball only to fuck up yesterday, I don’t think you should be talking.”
   Sierra flashed her a dirty look without speaking.
   “Just saying.”

*   *   *

Sierra caught the twenty-to-eight school bus bang on time. It was packed and loud as always, and she sat alone – as always. She picked up on snatches of conversation from yesterday’s basketball game, about how she missed the winning shot at perfect range, with almost little to no interference against what should have been an amateur team.
   Bikila High School wasn’t supposed to be that challenging – yes, they won their fair share of games in the past, but with great difficulty, and against teams that Havenville had beaten with ease – but then Blaze Delgado came along. She was a beast of player: fast, powerful, tall, with enough skill to go professional. Perhaps she would one day play in the Olympics, but for now she was still a teenager, and the best player any school had ever seen.
   She controlled the ball, attacked with fury, and commanded the court like no other. Sierra struggled to keep up.
   Blaze was also strikingly muscular. Her rear delts popped out of her sweaty dark skin for the entire game, giving way to her incredibly sculpted arms. Taut muscle bulged from her forearms like steel wire wrapped around boughs, and her upper body was as wide as her quads. She must have been six-five, maybe six-six, and weighed somewhere in the bracket of two hundred and twenty pounds of rock-solid muscle.
   She knew Blaze long before this: she had played against her multiple times in the previous annual competitions, but she had never been this good… or muscular.
   Is she juicing?
   Blaze leapt up and dunked the ball into the hoop for what must have been the seventh time that game. The crowd cheered and the ref’s whistle whirred across the court. It was halftime. Finally. Havenville gathered in the girls’ locker room, their sweat heavy and eager.
   Bottles caps popped and water spritzed out. Showerheads turned with all the squeak of rusty door hinges, and steam hung in the air; the place might have been a five-star sauna if not for the flickering fluorescents and plastic benches. The girls were panting, exhausted. Sierra stood among them stolidly, wondering if it was even possible for them to come back from what had been a massacre of the most ruthless sort. She didn’t feel she even deserved a drop of water after that round, but alas she drank, hoping it would give her the energy to take on that beast of a woman outside. Hoping any of them could. There was still another half to go, and God knew it wouldn’t be easy.
   “She’s on something, I fucking know it!” Connie was the first to say.
   “Anabolics?” said Stacy.
   Lex laughed. “I didn’t wanna say anything, but I’m glad someone pointed it out. She has more muscle than everyone on the football team put together.”
   “And did she shoot up five inches in a year? Seriously?” said Connie.
   Sierra swallowed, her heart pounding. “She’s playing like a fucking man.”
   “You’re tellin’ me,” said Connie. She was by far the largest player on Havenville at six-four – and the most skilled, managing to be the top-scorer in every basketball match for the last three years consecutively – but even so Blaze dwarfed her on the court. She couldn’t keep up either.
   What was going on out there?
   “Is that even allowed?” asked Stacy.
   “I bet she’s not the only one juicing,” said Nova, another star player, and also the team captain. She was standing under one of the shower heads with the other girls at the back. She was naked from the top up, her body lithe but not muscular. She hit the dispenser and water sprayed over her shower cap, flowing down her shoulders and back.
   Just a quick wash.
   “Bikila High’s never been this good,” said Stacy. “I reckon their coach has them on something. Dirty bastard.”
   “Steroids, without a doubt,” said Connie, “and Delgado must have taken most of ’em.” She let out a high-pitched laugh. “Those cheating whores. This is bullshit!”
   “Relax.” The water shut off. Nova walked out of the shower area shamelessly. “If we want any chance at making a comeback, then we have to work together. Whether they’re juicing or not frankly doesn’t matter if we’re playing like shit anyway. It’s like you all want to hog the ball – you especially, Connie. You’re a big girl, strong, but Christ you need to play with us and not against us.” She reached into her gym bag, pulled out her towel, and started drying herself off. She even let the towel hang around her shoulders like an open-ended scarf. She was flat-chested, with more pec than boob.
   Considering the circumstances, Sierra expected Connie to lash out, but surprisingly she nodded. “I guess it’s not over yet.”
   “It ain’t.” Stacy nodded. “We can do better. We are better. Focus more on playing around Blaze. More efficient passing, less aggression on the front. She will walk over you a steamroller.” She was already making her way towards her half-open locker with spare jerseys and shorts.
   “Flatten us like one too.” Sierra shut her bottle and tossed it into her bag. Though her outward demeanour was calm, her hands clasped together with no more care for the world than a head of cabbage, she felt undeniably anxious. How would the school react if they lost to the underdogs?
   Nova looked at her, and Sierra could feel the irritation roll off her in waves. “You’re lacking in general, Sierra.”
   Sierra’s heart drummed. “I get that, and I’m sorry. I’m not used to playing against someone like her.”
   “Well we need you to step it up too. You’re fast, use it to your advantage and stop standing in the back getting ready to get walked over. I don’t mean to sound bossy, but you’re off today.”
   Sierra frowned wryly at that. It was true that she’d been unable to keep up with the team’s expectations for the past few weeks; in some ways she felt she had degraded. Perhaps it had something to do with the constant studying. Exams were just around the corner, and with someone of her intelligence, she needed all the studying she could get.
   Regardless, Sierra didn’t put up a fuss or make any excuse for herself.
   She understood. She had always understood.
   Play less passive, around Blaze.
   Then, destroy her.
   The door to the girls’ locker room screeched open. Miss Jasmine Steele, their slim, nonbreasted basketball coach, stepped in, glanced daringly around the place, and slapped her hands together. “You’re on in five minutes.” Her shorts were black as coal, her legs not too curved but striking in their unobtrusive muscularity. Her hair was tied back; she might have been a model had she not taken the dedicated fitness route, with her angular face and flawless skin that made most boys in Havenville find her ‘sexy’. “It’s a great effort from you all.”
   Sierra expected one of the girls to say something about Blaze Delgado, another accusation of her substance abuse, but surprisingly everyone listened with intent, not making a sound.
   Miss Steele walked into the locker room, folding her arms. Veins popped and muscle twisted, not large, but tight all the same. “That said, you all need to learn to adapt. So here’s what we’re gonna do for the second half, and I’m sure your captain explained this to you already….” She went on to explain the importance of improving their rebounding, that they were giving up too many second-chance points and should focus on controlling the ball more. Not once did she mention Blaze Delgado, and it was perhaps because, like Nova, she didn’t see her as a threat.
   How wrong they were.

[HumanPersonBeing]

This is pretty good. It does everything a first chapter should. It introduces the main character, her personality, relationships, and goals. It also gives us what the opening chapter of an FMG story should. You got a thin female lead, a possible schmoe in her boyfriend, a situation where she could use more muscle, and a hint of a possible agent for muscle growth. And it has some female muscle without rushing to the growth of the lead. It takes it's time and leaves the reader interested in the next chapter.

Have you written FMG stories before?

[SteelScripter]

Will be releasing the next batch soon.

Also thank you. I have written FMG stories before, and fantasy, horror, and science fiction novels.

[Wookey]

Great work SS in setting up for a much bigger story

[ArkhamAsylum]

This was a great introduction. I'm looking forward to what follows. The introduction of all these female characters seems to indicate that Sierra won't be the only one who will grow.

[HumanPersonBeing]

Will be releasing the next batch soon.

Also thank you. I have written FMG stories before, and fantasy, horror, and science fiction novels.

Where can I read them? I've been reading FMG stories for a while now but, somehow, I don't recall ever reading your work.

[SteelScripter]

This is the first one being uploaded. I haven't uploaded any of the other FMG novels.

[SteelScripter]

Quick Announcement: Commissions are also available on Patreon.

*   *   *

Once the bus reached the Havenville school grounds, Sierra followed the riptide of students out into the crisp morning sunlight. The air was warm and still. The school was large, wide, and red-brick. If Sierra hadn’t been a student here and had only occasionally caught sight of this building on a drive up this road, she might have thought it was a prestigious university of some sort. A cross-shaped pathway stamped the front yard and was blemished with a luxuriant sprawl of freshly cut lawn. A man in a high-vis orange jacket was riding a mower along it, the engine rumbling, adding to the hum of conversation from more than a hundred pupils, some of which sat at benches, some under trees, and some by the large fountain at the centre.
   It was a statue of Hercules holding Earth above his shoulders, his muscles defined and veiny, his luxurious hair falling halfway down his pecs. Water flew aptly from under his legs.
   Hercules, the God of Strength.
   Another ding sounded out from Sierra’s phone. She looked. ‘Still waiting :/,’ Jackson had written.
   She rolled her eyes and wrote, ‘omw’, before making her way through the cross-shaped yard. She moved towards the parking lot on the far right of the school, by the upsloping forest known as Pitchfork’s Grove. It was named after the old witch folktales involving the murders of over one hundred innocent women.
   Maybe Blaze is a witch, thought Sierra randomly. Though I doubt anyone’s gonna tie her up to a tree and light her on fire for it. She smirked vaguely.
   Sierra reached the parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare before her first class commenced. Rows upon rows of cars were neatly arranged between yellow lines, from sleek cars to old chunkers. More pulled into the lot; she had to mind her step. The forest was orange and beautiful as always; in autumn there was always a colourfulness about the place. While she had never ventured into Pitchfork’s Grove before – mostly because she had a fear of getting lost (or worse, hunted by one of the bears that predominated the local flush) – she had always appreciated the view.
   Jackson’s 1986 Chevy S10 was on the far-left corner of the parking lot, and he was sitting over the hood like some sort of gangmember, wearing a pair of shades and typing on his phone.
   Ding.
   ‘Still waiting,’ he wrote.
   Sierra typed: ‘Look up.’
   Jackson snapped his head up. He saw her immediately and gave her a shit-eating grin. Those teeth, blindingly white on this hot autumn’s day.
   She approached him with a smile of her own.
   “Thought you’d never show up,” he said.
   “You have no patience,” she said, and they exchanged a quick kiss. Despite her mocking tone, there was a dreaminess in her eyes as she looked at his short black hair, triangular jawline, and thick eyebrows. He smelt like sandalwood cologne, a captivating spice. 
   Jackson gaped at her. “You feelin’ better today?”
   She sat next to him on the hood and sighed. “About as good as I can.”
   Jackson whipped out a package of menthol cigarettes, slipped her one, and lit it up with his lighter while it was still in her mouth. “This should help.”
   Sierra snickered. “Believe me, if I could rewind time and… well, do things a little differently, I would.” She relaxed her head on his shoulder. It was thick and comfortable.
   “Not much you could have done,” said Jackson. “That black chick was hopped-up. It wasn’t fair to start with.”
   A shrill giggle escaped Sierra and she leaned back to peer at him. “All those muscles and…” She stuck out her tongue, miming a retch. “… all that sweat. She was like a man. But you have a point, I guess. Power like that is hard to beat. If you claim otherwise, like Nova and our coach, you’re lying.”
   Jackson shook his head and looked over at the other cars entering the parking lot. It was a busy commute today. “Definitely. My question is when are the organisers gonna clock that that chick packed on like, what, fifty pounds of muscle since the last competition?”
   “She shot up like a weed too,” said Sierra.
   “HGH?”
   “What’s that?”
   “Human growth hormone,” Jackson said. “It can make you taller, and help you build muscle.”
   She cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting. So it’s like a steroid then?”
   He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head dully. “Not exactly. It’s a peptide hormone, I think. I know some guys who got into bodybuilding, took it, and managed to gain two inches even after their growth cycle was supposed to have finished. Not as much as that chick though, so I have a feeling whatever growth she had left just got accelerated.”
   Sierra nodded. “Makes sense,” she said, and then added with some annoyance, “Still a piece of shit though.”
   He laughed. “Yeah, bigtime. But that comes with the sport. Recreational drugs are common.”
   “Whatever happened to drug tests?”
   “Don’t think that’s legal when it comes to students, not without parental consent, at least.”
   Sierra shrugged and blew a ring of smoke into the air. “Still, I hate how oblivious our coach acted around the whole thing. Regardless of what happened” – she cast Jackson a sideways look – “I feel terrible about missing that shot. We would have won had I – ”
   “Don’t eat yourself up over it, babe,” said Jackson. “You did what you could. Like I said, not a fair match to begin with. Forget about it. There’s always next term.”
   Sierra sighed. She didn’t like the sound of playing against that thing again next term. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if everyone on Bikila’s Women’s Basketball Team started juicing after seeing what Blaze could do. She didn’t like to think anything positive about that cheating team at all.
   But maybe Jackson had a point. She couldn’t put it on herself for not being able to keep up with someone with that much power, nor could she expect even the top players on Havenville to. While the team had been disappointed with her performance as a whole, maybe they would take that into consideration and not give her such a hard time from now on.
   But there was still something that made her anxious. The way they talked to her – with irritation – made it sound as if they would no sooner kick her off the team. The way Coach Steele told her she was way below the standard of play didn’t sit well with her, and she’d been trying to get it off her mind ever since.
   Jackson wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into a hug. He was grinning – that open, heart-warming smile that she absolutely adored. “You’ll be alright. Just a bad game. At least your team has some competition now, ay?”
   Sierra let out a wistful laugh, while Jackson plucked the cigarette from his mouth, threw it on the ground, and quenched it with his loafer.
   Once all the cars finished parking, Sierra said, “My sister’s getting into fitness now.”
   “Really?” he said, agog with curiosity. Having been a man who regularly went to the gym himself, she didn’t find it surprising that he would react enthusiastically. He wasn’t a bodybuilder or anything, but his arms had clearly seen plenty of barbells.
   “She spent a thousand dollars on a gym set. Just got delivered today. I doubt she’s gonna stick with it for long.”
   “Why’s that?”
   “You know her – she likes – ”
   “Trying things only to give ’em up?” He nodded. “I have a cousin who’s the same way.”
   Sierra pursed her lips. “Exactly.”
   “You thinking of using the set at all?” asked Jackson.
   Sierra turned to him. Jackson had tried getting her to come along with him to the gym multiple times, but there was something so off-putting about working out around a bunch of stangers. Though, the idea of exercising alone while at home didn’t sound as nerve-wracking.
   “I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “My mom says it might help with my basketball. Can’t tell if that was a jab or not, though.”
   “I’m sure it can,” said Jackson, “but nothing beats hard practice on the court. That goes for any sport. Still, it might be worth giving a shot. Plus, I can come by and help you out sometime if you’re not sure how to get started.”
   Sierra smirked and eyed him lovingly. “I didn’t peg you for a guy who loves watching a girl sweat outside of sex.”
   “You don’t peg me at all,” he joked.
   Sierra laughed at that – a nice sound straight from the heart. “Is that what you want, you horny bastard?”
   “I’m down for anything.” He chuckled.
   “Right. I’ll have to take that into consideration next time you piss me off. Jokes aside, I wouldn’t mind you coming to help me out sometime. Though I’ll still have to think about if I want to actually do it or not. I’ll send you a text.”
   “Or better yet,” said Jackson, “I’ll show up to your house after school. Did your sister set it up yet?”
   She was a little taken aback by that. She was always taken aback by Jackson’s boldness. “No – no she didn’t, I don’t think. But yeah… I guess I’ll see you after school then.”
   “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I can even help set it up if she hasn’t already. Shouldn’t take too long, depending on what she has.”
   Sierra pressed her lips into a thin smile, biting back the words she really wanted to say: I’m not sure about rushing into this yet. Still, if she didn’t agree to this, she would probably never come around to working out – ever.
   She checked the time on her phone. Class starts in five minutes. She had to jet, so she quenched her cigarette under her shoe, kissed her boyfriend goodbye, and began making her way into Havenville High School.
   Once she was back at the front entrance and walked past the statue of Hercules to the upsloping steps, she saw the same polished ceilings supported by elegant marble columns from the spotless tile floor below. The walls were adorned with richly coloured murals and artwork, depicting landscapes and abstract formations from renowned artists. It was her style.
   A sweeping staircase curved gracefully upwards, leading to the upper levels of the academy. She followed the horde of students up to her first class, Photography 101.
   She sat there, unable to concentrate, her mind too focused on the game, and what would happen once Gym Class rolled around later that day.
   I need to get better. Somehow.

[jhunter]

Very dialogue focused story so far. Hope to see more description of growth soon.

[Wookey]

Very disciplined start. The story has lots of potential K+

[SteelScripter]

Very disciplined start. The story has lots of potential K+

Yeah this will be a slow-growth story. I'm not a fan of jumping into growth; it normally conflicts with how fiction writing is supposed to present itself, so even trying to do that feels off. I like a recurring theme more than, "Then she just started growing over a couple months."

[havok1209]

Very disciplined start. The story has lots of potential K+

Yeah this will be a slow-growth story. I'm not a fan of jumping into growth; it normally conflicts with how fiction writing is supposed to present itself, so even trying to do that feels off. I like a recurring theme more than, "Then she just started growing over a couple months."

The transformation is half the fun!

[SteelScripter]

CHAPTER TWO
******

(Part 1)

The ref’s whistle resounded throughout the arena, making Sierra jump. She’d forgotten she was standing there, her mind too preoccupied with the strategy put forward by Jasmine Steele, and the words Nova had so boldly engraved in her. 
   You’re fast. Use it to your advantage and stop standing in the back, getting ready to get walked over.
   “Let’s go Havenville—!”
   The ball bounced back and no sooner landed in Sierra’s hands. She bounced it as she manoeuvred around her team’s side and looked for an opening between the wall of Bikila High; their jerseys were black with red numbers, the symbol of Chinese dragons stencilled on the upper left breast, while Havenville’s jerseys were dark blue, the characters white with Hercules as the school symbol.
   “Pass it—” screamed Nova.
   Then she came: Blaze Delgado. She had dashed across the court with inhumane speed, a towering dark woman who seemed even more muscular up close, with lats that flared like the hood of an oversized prehistoric cobra, and powerful thighs that strained against the fabric of her basketball shorts, her calves defined with sinewy muscles that rippled with every movement. Her broad shoulders and biceps were carved with deep grooves that spoke of hours spent lifting weights and perfecting her game. Her defined trapezius muscles formed a formidable backdrop to her chiselled jawline. Despite this, there was a tender feminine touch to her face that had no doubt been unaffected by her supposed substance abuse.
   “PASS THE BALL!”
   Sierra turned, guarded the ball, and bounced it towards Nova, who was waiting on the opposite side of the court with fluster in her eyes.
   Blaze dashed past Sierra, and she felt the heat radiate from her body. She caught a whiff of her incredibly musky sweat. Had this been any other situation, she would have thought that sweat belonged to an incredibly large man—the lumberjack sort. Hell, she might have even found it attractive, but she was too focused, too shocked by what she was up against.
   Nova caught the ball and hurried around the opposing team’s defences with effortless grace. When she took the game seriously, there was almost no stopping her.
   But Blaze, despite her imposing and muscular build, moved quicker, with a fluidity that was almost otherworldly. Perhaps it was those long legs and that never-ending well of stamina. She seemed way out of everyone’s league.
   Sierra followed up with her team’s offense and got into position near the basketball rim. Nova passed the ball to Stacy, and Stacy to Connie. What remained was a matter of quick dribbling between both team’s largest women. Blaze almost swept the ball from under Connie’s feet, but Connie was quick, managing to break past her, only to be met with a reinforced defence from Bikila High’s top defenders. In a flash decision, Connie bounced the ball towards Sierra on the right side of the court. She caught it.
   This was the perfect opportunity to shoot for the basket. For a moment everything felt as if it was in slow motion. Sierra backed up, preparing to shoot. She was so focused on landing the shot that she didn’t even see the towering figure barrelling towards her until she tipped her feet up, jumped, and tossed the ball towards the net.
   Blaze Delgado, attempting to knock the ball out of arc while running straight towards Sierra, slipped and, with a loud crash, collided with her. The two fell to the ground in a tangle of sweat and limbs.
   Sierra saw stars. She did her best to push the behemoth off of her body and was wholly unsurprised to feel her steely muscle rejecting her every attempt. “Get off me!”
   “My bad,” said Blaze, and Sierra detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, along with a suppressed laugh. “Didn’t see you there, shortie.”
   The ref blew his whistle a couple times and Havenville came to help Sierra up off the ground. Connie, whose grip was as strong as it looked, yanked her up off the ground.
   Sierra felt like she’d just been hit by a speeding car, although a truck might have been a more accurate way of putting it.
   “You all right?” panted Stacy, placing a comforting hand on Sierra’s shoulder.
   “I’ll live,” she said.
   “You took a big hit,” said Connie. “But nice shot. We might have a chance after all.”
   Sierra didn’t understand what Connie was talking about until she looked at the scoreboard and saw that an additional three points had been added to Havenville’s overall score. H.V: 63, B.H: 78.
   The ball had connected. They were back in the game. Jasmine Steele’s strategy had worked… at least, for now.
   She knew she should feel elated—she had finally stepped up her game and, she supposed, reinstilled confidence in the team, just like she’d wanted to. Like Nova wanted her to. But in this case, she didn’t feel entirely certain that Blaze would let a slip-up like that happen again. She hadn’t expected Sierra to make that shot, had she?
   The game hadn’t been in her favour up until that point. Bikila High hadn’t been too worried about what Sierra was capable of. No, Connie was their target. Connie and maybe even Nova, who until now had been carrying the team quite well.
   The ref’s whistled sounded again. The applause died down but the cheers for Havenville continued. She could have sworn she heard a chant beginning to build.
   “Haven! Haven! Haven!” cried the crowd.
   “Go Sierra,” a high-pitched voice yelled. She recognised it immediately as Braeden’s. She ventured a quick glance over to the bleachers from which she had heard the voice and, sure enough, there in the crowd was Braeden, along with Mom and of course Madison, who didn’t seem all that excited. She seemed concerned even.
   Nonetheless, Sierra smiled faintly. You’re fast. Use it to your advantage.
   Nova had secured the ball yet again and the game was on. For the next fifteen minutes, Havenville managed to break past Bikila High’s defences using the same strategy outlined in the locker room. It was almost mechanical: Nova would take space along the left side of the court, Connie would use her marvellous dribbling skills to outmanoeuvre the weaker players, and, through evasive passing, they managed to avoid and distract Blaze from participating in almost every engage. Contrary to what Sierra had expected, the more they performed this strategy, basket after basket, point after point, the more proficient they each became, and the more Bikila High crumbled. Blaze Delgado, the once-feared mountain of a woman, was unable to keep up, and Sierra could sense the anger in her.
   “Wake the fuck up!” she told her team—her voice slightly deep and most definitely threatening. It seemed whatever steroids she was taking were beginning to manifest in her attitude and sportsmanship.
   Sierra chuckled. The prodigy may have been able to cheat her way through countless games by using performance-enhancing drugs, but she couldn’t fix her team, especially not by shouting at them. As the old saying went, ‘Teamwork makes the dream work.’
   Nothing beats teamwork.
   Sierra looked up at the scoreboard. H.V: 81, B.H: 78.
   Only fifteen minutes on the clock. The game was in their hands.
   The ref’s whistled went off again.
   Back the ball went, within Sierra’s clutch. Nova on the left, Connie at the centre, she bounced the ball towards her and—
   As soon as Nova caught the ball, just as she had done several times over, Blaze Delgado rammed into her with all the speed and horsepower of a freight train, knocking Nova to the side, causing the ball to leap from her hands.
   “Ref—!” said Sierra with shock, but no whistle was blown. That cheating bitch!
   Blaze Delgado stormed the court, dribbling past each of Havenville’s defenders, completely outclassing them in skill and speed, until reaching their basket, jumping, and slamming the ball into the net with a loud, thunderous “Huh!”.
   Sierra’s breathing quickened. How was this allowed? How did the ref not see that? The bitch swatted her like a fly.
   This was it. Whatever hope Bikila High had was now torn away by Blaze’s foul. She would be called out for this. She had to be.
   But her shock was soon replaced with terror when the scoreboard flipped to read H.V: 81, B.H: 80.
   The ref’s whistle rang again. It wasn’t to stop Blaze in her moment of glory. The team had retrieved the ball and the round had started again.
   What was happening?

[Wookey]

K+. Love your pacing