Soccer in a Man’s World: Men vs Women Chapter 3

Scoring is impossible for the Red Phoenix now. The team arrives on the pitch bloated and sluggish. Their stomachs are filled with milk, semen, and, for some, urine. With every step they make, the sound of liquid sloshing around in their bellies fills their ears as reminders of the halftime’s entertainment.

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Chapter 3: Men vs Women: Second Half


Scoring is impossible for the Red Phoenix now. The team arrives on the pitch bloated and sluggish. Their stomachs are filled with milk, semen, and, for some, urine. With every step they make, the sound of liquid sloshing around in their bellies fills their ears as reminders of the halftime’s entertainment.

Danielle grits her teeth, bearing the pain of her arching bosom and packed digestive tracts as she scrambles for the ball. A midfielder knocks her off her feet, and before she can protest, he jams his member between her lips, relieving himself. Once a player requests the service of a urinal, she ceases to be a person but an instrument ready for use.

While Danielle is gulping down the yellow waste, her hope that her midfielders can hold down the fort soon vanishes. Because at midfield, Wendy is shaking like a leaf with her knees bending inward as she tries to brace herself against the unfamiliar pleasure of her prolapsed vagina. The uniform requires that her thong is wedged between her labia, but the sensation of a thin string digging into her fragile flesh fries her brain. Worse, with every step taken, the three inches of her hanging pussy slip out of her underwear, which causes her to manhandle the extra meat and stuff it back into place, ultimately resulting in an earth-shattering orgasm. Thus, she finds herself squirting every few feet to the point that she can barely move anymore. Simply closing her thighs can very well result in another orgasm. When the Blue Devil attacks, her hands are too busy clutching her prolapsed pussy, her eyes rolling backward, pleasure bursting her nerves.

The Red Phoenix’s goalie isn’t doing much better either. After diving to stop a shot and successfully pushing the ball away, a forward, Jack, sits on Alyssa’s face, pries her mouth open, and empties his bladder in her stomach.

Ron takes advantage of Alyssa’s predicament and flicks the ball up around his waist. Next, in a theatrical move, his flailing prick thrusts the ball into the goal. The fifth goal will go down in history, and Ron will forever be known as a man who has scored a goal with his cock. And there is absolutely nothing Alyssa can do about it other than watch helplessly a few feet away with the bitter taste of urine on her tongue.

This time, for celebration, Ron yanks everything up instead of down. He tugs Alyssa’s jersey above her breast and pulls her skirt up, making her tits wear the skirt. A little movement, and her boobs poke out of her uniform. Then, he slips his penis between her panties and pubis. Finally, he unleashes his reservoir on her genitals and enjoys her humongous clit thrumming against his mushroom head.

Alyssa tears up as steamy piss pours down her twat and legs. “Thank you for w-watering my cunt.”

“This look suits you.” Ron smirks and threateningly taps her big belly, which is sagging from a combination of milk, semen, and urine. “If you dare adjust your kit, I will kick your cunt with my boots.”

“N-no, sir! I wouldn’t dare!” Alyssa shivers, knowing he’s correct. There are no rules stating how little her uniform can cover. As long as she technically wears them, she can play the rest of the match with her skirt around her bosom and her bottom basically naked. A bolt of pleasure jolts her giant clit, which is now the size of a man’s thumb.


Incessant pleasure and bloated digestive tracts make for poor performance. Wendy waddles after a forward—Martin when she slips on her own juice. She lands face-first on his buttocks. His nuts smack her squarely on the lips as he tumbles down in front of the Red Phoenix’s goal. And worse, he is in the penalty box. Whistles immediately ring, along with a cruel hand signal at the penalty spot from the referee.

Meanwhile, Martin rolls on the pitch, wailing, clutching his genitals. A team of two busty medics—a blonde, and a brunette shortly tends to his injury. The blonde medic quickly kneels over his head and cradles his face with her soaking-wet labia, allowing the fresh aroma to comfort him. “Where are you hurt, sir?”

“My dick and balls,” Martin says, still holding his junk.

“I know it’s painful, but would you let go and allow us to work, sir? Squeeze my tits if it helps.”

“Sure.” Martin digs his nose into her canal and mumbles with his mouth on her clit, his hands fondling her heavy bosom.

Due to the sensitive nature of the injured area, the brunette medic coats his genitals in her protective juice before icing. She slides her sopping snatch along his length, pays special attention to his crown, and then rubs each of his testicles on her slit. “Better, sir?”

“My nuts still hurt.” Martin grins against the blonde medic’s drooling womanhood while the blonde medic massages his prick with her tongue. “I think they also need a deep tissue massage.”

“Right away, sir.” The brunette medic flashes Martin a sweet smile as she puts his entire nutsack inside her vagina. Fucking herself on his testes, she asks, “How the pressure, sir?”

“Not too bad.” Martin takes a whiff of the horny cunt above him and relaxes, enjoying the brunette medic gently churning her pussy with his balls. Finally, her nectar explodes on his genitals, covering his nether regions in her juice.


A penalty kick has its own special process. First, the player who commits the foul leading to a penalty, aka Wendy, must apologize to her victim by kissing his boots. Because of her fault, she has potentially robbed him of a well-deserving goal. Second, the goalie must have her fingers spreading her twat until the kicker takes his shot; otherwise, she may get punished, ranging from retaking the penalty to a yellow card.

Thus, the striker of the Blue Devil, Ron, is tasked with taking the penalty kick while Wendy is busy planting kisses on Martin’s boots. The goalkeeper, Alyssa, jumps up and down with her digits parting her snatch in an effort to distract Ron. Because with her hands gluing to her genitals, she has little chance to stop his shot. And she is soon proven to be right when Ron takes a few steps back and strikes the ball past her, piercing the net. The entire stadium shakes with roars, marking the sixth goal of the match.

Alyssa slumps to her knees, dreading what is to come. Soon, two of the three forwards grab her arms and allow Ron to strip her bottom. She knows better than to fight back and stays still, wearing a phony smile on her face, secretly hoping they would have mercy. Ron, in wicked delight, stuffs her vagina with her thong. With one deep thrust, his prick shoves the scanty panties inside her passage. After each lunge of his hips, her underwear wedges deeper and deeper against her womb. She tries to protest, but nothing comes out of her mouth besides a gargle of gibberish as a forward’s dick fills her throat. Worse, the vibration from her failed screams hit the right spot, sending his hardness jerking and spurting white down her gullet. Tears helplessly roll down her cheeks while another forward washes her hair with his waste. Relief only comes after Ron dumps his load inside her.

However, Alyssa’s true nightmare comes when the referee spots her bare backside. “Where’s your thong? What did I tell you if I ever caught you disheveled again?”

“I haven’t lost it, sir!” Alyssa desperately digs her fingers inside her semen-filled canal, pulling out white blobs instead of her underwear.

“You either produce your panties right now or you’ll get a card.” Displeased, the referee crosses his arms and taps his feet impatiently.

“My thong is in my cunt, sir! I swear!” Out of options, Alyssa asks, “Sir, please help me.”

The referee scrunches his nose in disgust. “You want me to dig my hand into your filthy pussy? Who do you think you are?”

“My thong is inside me, sir! Truly!”

“Not only are you displaying shameful behaviors right before my eyes, but you are also a repeated offender with no regard for the rules! I have had enough of your antics!” The referee angrily pulls out a red card.

“No, sir! Please give me another chance!” Alyssa’s blood runs cold. She quickly kneels on the pitch, profusely kissing his prick.

“You’re done. I have given you enough chances.” The referee has no time for her pity party and jogs down her crime on the back of the card.

A few moments later, the two assistant referees arrive to help with the punishment process. They hold her legs up and apart as wide as possible while she lays on the ground. The main referee announces the reasons to the entire stadium. “The offender, Alyssa Solo, shall receive ten stomps on her filthy cunt for her outrageous transgression. But the almighty above is forever merciful. I, Henry Griffin, shall follow his will and deliver her punishment with my bare feet.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.” Alyssa sobs. Her prospects are a little brighter. If the referee punishes her with his studded boot, she will be maimed permanently.

“Prepare your teammate.” The referee flicks his head at the Red Phoenix’s captain—Morgana. The sight of white goo oozing out of Alyssa’s canal is off-putting to him. “I’m not touching her filth.”

“Right away, sir.” Morgana scrambles to Alyssa and kneels between her legs. She buries her tongue into Alyssa’s passage and sucks out as much gunk as she can. Within a few seconds, Morgana’s face quickly becomes a slobbering mess of white and unidentifiable fluid.

Meanwhile, two of the Red Phoenix’s voluptuous midfielders prepare the referee’s foot in the hope of appeasing the angry referee. They start by removing one of his boots and sweaty socks. Next, they massage his foot between their cleavages. Then, they thoroughly lick every nook and cranny clean. At the same time, his sock is stored and soaked inside a defender’s vagina for safekeeping during the duration of the punishment. In addition, another defender polishes his boot with her nectar by rubbing her sopping snatch on the leather.

“She’s clean, sir.” Morgana backs up and announces, allowing the referee to view Alyssa’s rosy opening.

“Good.” The referee nods and places the heel of his saliva-slick foot on Alyssa’s vulva. “I shall now stomp your cunt. Be grateful for the pain and repent.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you for straightening me out!” Alyssa grits her teeth when his heel lands squarely on her delicate pussy. However, he doesn’t continue immediately and takes his time to crush her labia. His heel digs into her passage and ensures that her agony lingers. At the fifth stomp, she starts to scream her lungs out, her voice hoarse. By the time he is done, her cunt has swelled two sizes larger and changed into a dark shade of old wine.

Then, the referee clamps a red card on her swollen clit and sends her on her way. The red card isn’t made of stiff cardboard or plastic but heavy lead, weighing up to fifty grams, or about two ounces. Alyssa struggles to her feet and bears the heavy weight of the card on her extra-sensitive knob. If she drops the card, her manager will dispense even stricter punishment. However, she isn’t allowed to rest after a red card. The assistant referee makes her stand in the shamed corner at the end of the pitch, where she has to slap herself until the match concludes.


The manager makes Wendy play goalie since she can barely run anymore with her giant prolapse. It is an understanding that, other than injuries, no team would make any substitutions. The Red Phoenix is barely holding its own, and when Alyssa is sent off, all dams break loose. The team completely collapses. The game winds down to fouls after fouls against the Blue Devil, which results in six more yellow cards spreading out between defenders and midfielders and three more penalties. Unfortunately for the girls, all penalty kicks translate into goals.

Without Alyssa, Danielle becomes the sole urinal for the entire pitch. After drinking five guys’ urine, including all four defenders and a goalkeeper, she is horrified at her balloon belly. Her stomach has been inflated as if it is on the verge of giving birth. Thus, when Toni approaches her with his monstrous column, she instantly drops down to her knees and begs. “Please spare my belly, sir! It’ll explode!”

“What do you think? Where else am I supposed to piss?” Toni scoffs, tugging at his glorious meat.

“Don’t break the urinal, bro.” A fellow midfielder, Frank, comes to Danielle’s defense. “I’ll tell you what. Toni here will take a leak on your clit. If you can orgasm from his urine alone, we won’t piss inside you anymore.”

“Please yes, sir! I’ll do anything!” Danielle peppers Toni’s monstrous column with kisses, pleading for mercy.

“You good, Toni?” Frank asks.

“Fine. Fun enough.” Toni grins, his dick pulsing in excitement.

“Thank you for your benevolence, sir!” Danielle instantly lights up and flops down on the grass with her labia spread. “Please shower my clit with your pee, sir!”

“Well said.” Toni unleashes his torrent on top of her delicate pearl. His endless bladder provides a steady stream pouring down her little pea as if her nub is bathing in a yellow waterfall.

It doesn’t take long for pleasure to blaze through Danielle’s loins. Her body convulses as she wails. “I’m cumming, sir! I’m cumming from getting pissed on my clit!”

“Look at this whore!” Toni chuckles at the sight, still emptying his bladder.

“I’m a whore! A complete whore! I love piss on my clit!” Danielle yells, writhing on the grass. The twisted pleasure entices her brain. She is orgasming from her opponent’s waste. She is worse than a mere urinal. Urinals don’t feel pleasure. After that, the sole striker of the Red Phoenix, Danielle, becomes completely useless, and she’ll never be the same again. All she can do is waddle around and occasionally get tripped up by her own filth while soaked from head to toe in urine. The men promise not to piss inside her, but pissing on her is still fair game.

It is not a surprise to anyone watching that the cup concludes with a score of 15-0 in a resounding victory for the men and the patriarchy as a whole.

(To be continued)


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