Operation Fit Bird

Story Info
Can he score the girl of his dreams?
29k words
4.66
31.7k
22
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

I decided to publish this story in the Novels and Novellas category rather than breaking it up into separate chapters. It's about sex but it isn't simply one sex scene after another so bear that in mind when reading and commenting.

I hope you enjoy it and please leave me feedback. All rights reserved, © Northern_One, 2014.

Chapter One

"Am I boring you, Weston?" The voice boomed around the changing room, snapping Will to his senses.

"No, sir. Not at all," said Will, which wasn't strictly true.

"Good. Then you won't mind telling us all what formation we're going to be using this afternoon then, will you?"

Will looked at the squiggles on the whiteboard on the far wall of the shabby room. He took a deep breath, inhaling the stuffy, sweaty air. It smelled of socks, damp and Deep Heat. "Umm, four-four-three, sir?" he said. It was a guess. The strategies and mechanics of football had never excited him. Mr Fiddler, his PE teacher knew it was a guess. Everyone in the room knew it was a guess.

"Jesus, boy. Can't you even add up? Just how many players do you think make up a football team?" said the man the entire student body knew as 'Kiddy', by virtue of his name, despite the lack of any evidence to support the slander.

Will saw his error. "Twelve, sir?" he said. If he was getting a detention he might as well get a laugh out of it at the very least. The groans from his team mates told him he'd failed.

"Dickhead," someone muttered.

"Dickhead, indeed," said Kiddy. "Clever little shit, aren't you, Weston?"

It was true. Will was a clever little shit. He was also a cheeky little shit, a cocky little shit and a lucky little shit, if various teachers and prefects were to be believed. It seemed, however, as the track-suited bulk of the PE teacher loomed in front of him, that the last of these descriptive little shits had finally run out.

"You lot get out there and warm up," Kiddy told the others, who duly trooped out of the door towards the freezing quagmire that passed for playing fields at the well-regarded but woefully under-funded school. "You, stand up," he told Will.

Kiddy Fiddler towered over Will. The teacher was a freakish man mountain compared to Will who these days was finding it harder and harder to make the skills he was born with count on the pitch when everyone else had got so much bigger than him.

"I don't like your attitude these days, Weston," Kiddy said. "You're not a team player. And there's no place in my teams for someone who doesn't want to play."

Will, who was having to tilt his head back to make eye contact with the older man glanced towards the open door and the rain-lashed pitches beyond.

"Look at me, boy," Kiddy said. "I know you want to be out there, showing off, getting laughs, making lads with less talent than you look stupid, but not anymore."

Will looked back at old Kiddy. The teacher couldn't have been further from the truth. Not long before PE had been the highlight of his week, his playground, his theatre even, now Will dreaded Wednesday afternoons and the freezing cold, the merciless tackles from the lads now much bigger than him, the clumsy challenges from the unskilled oafs and the relentless bellowing from the man in front of him.

"I've tried discipline. I've tried coaching. Nothing seems to work with you, lad. You're a waster," Kiddy said. Will could see thick grey hairs on his upper lip where he'd missed with the razor. His breath smelled of coffee and cigarettes. There was a faint waft of body odour, too, that the cheap deodorant was failing to mask. Kiddy didn't seem to expect a response so Will didn't offer one.

"I've had it up to here," Kiddy said, gesturing really quite high up. "Now, if all you want to do is ponce about and get laughs then we're going to take your audience away. If encouragement and good old fashioned bollockings won't make you think, then we need to try something different. Maybe it's time you were humiliated into applying yourself."

Something lurched in Will's stomach. He didn't like the sound of humiliation. "Sorry, sir," he began.

"Enough," Kiddy said, holding up his hand. "It's too late for you to talk your way out of this. I've been talking to Miss Cookson and she agrees. If you don't respect me, the game and your team mates then we'll take them all away and teach you a proper lesson," he said sternly. "From now on you'll be playing netball with the girls."

Silence filled the changing room. Will wondered if he'd heard correctly. "With the girls, sir? In the sports hall?"

Kiddy had a triumphant smile on his blotchy face. "Ha," he said. "Not so cocky now, are you, stripped of your precious football. Playing netball with girls should take you down a peg or two. What do you think your smart friends will think of that?"

Will bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. Blood rushed in his ears. He felt his face redden. His body began to shake as he held the laughter in. Surely this had to be some kind of joke. Kiddy was looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Come on, lad. Pull yourself together," he said. "It'll probably only be for a few weeks."

Will realised the teacher thought he was going to burst into tears. He looked Kiddy in the eye again and nodded. "Yes, sir. Okay, sir," he said quietly.

Kiddy stepped back and Will sat on the bench. He looked down at his football boots, hoping Kiddy would think he was contemplating the end of his serious sporting career. After a pause Will looked up at Kiddy. "So should I go now, sir?" he asked.

"That's right, lad. Miss Cookson's waiting for you in the sports hall. Now get over there, sharpish".

Will untied his laces and slipped off his boots. "Yes, sir," he said, barely able to conceal his smirk.

"And I hope you bloody learn something," Kiddy said as he marched towards the greyness outside.

"Me too, sir," Will said. "In fact I'm sure I will."

Will left the changing rooms and began to make his way down the path to the location of his humiliating punishment and paused to zip up his waterproof coat. He peered at the football pitches through the rain but the gloom was too murky and he could only hear Kiddy Fiddler instructing his erstwhile team mates to set off on a stamina-building run round the fields. Shaking his head in disbelief Will pulled his hood up and walked towards the sports hall. He pushed open the door and paused in the foyer, as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and he soaked up the warmth. Trying very hard not to grin too much he set off to find Miss Cookson and report for his punishment.

"Ahh, Mr Weston," the girls' PE teacher said. "Mr Fiddler suggested you might be joining us today. Let's hope playing with the girls for a while teaches you something while you're missing out on your precious football, hmm?"

Asking himself just how stupid these people really were, Will tried to look contrite. "Yes, ma'am, I hope so too." He looked around the hall. The three netball courts were filled with girls from his year. Girls of all shapes and sizes. Girls wearing short pleated skirts and clingy blouses. Girls perspiring gently in the warmth of the hall. Girls.

Miss Cookson blew her whistle and the games stopped. "Now then ladies. Will here will be joining us for a few weeks until he can show he's earned the right to play in the football team. I trust you'll show him the ropes and teach him what you can."

Will heard more than a few giggles which were cut short by a stern look from Miss Cookson. "Enough of that," she barked. "I'm sure you've seen a boy before. He's here to learn a lesson, not for your amusement." She looked around the hall until she found the girl she wanted. "Julia," she said to a tall blonde Will had seen before but never spoken to. "You can explain the rules to Will and show him the ropes."

"Yes, ma'am," said Julia, appearing before Will and giving him a friendly smile. She had a southern accent. Not a cockney one, just from down south. Will assumed she must be posh.

"And Will," Miss Cookson said. "I'll be reporting back to Mr Fiddler so I don't want any funny business."

"Of course not, ma'am," said Will, finding it all the harder to keep a straight face when Julia winked at him.

"Julia, make sure you keep Will in line please."

"Yes, ma'am," the girl said.

"Good," Miss Cookson said, stowing a stray netball under arm. "Now, hopefully a little dose of humility will serve you well and you'll be back out on the pitch in no time, hmm?" She didn't wait for an answer but put her whistle to her lips and blew. "Okay, ladies. Back to work."

Will looked around the hall and its eighteen year-old occupants and said a silent prayer of thanks.

"Weird kind of punishment" Julia chuckled as they walked towards an empty net and the wind rattled the skylights.

"I know," Will laughed. "They must think I'm like, 14 or something."

"So," Julia said, one hand on her hip, her mouth in an exaggerated pout, her big blue eyes boring into Will's. "First lesson."

*

"You're such a lucky fucker," said Ant as he punched Will's arm.

Will grinned and rubbed his arm. Ant was exactly the kind of person Will was glad not to have to face on the pitch anymore. Having known one another since Will's family had moved in down the road ten years or so before they'd been in competition one way or another ever since. Whereas Ant had soared vertically and sprouted muscles upon muscles, Will's growth had plateaued early and now seemed to have stopped altogether. It didn't bother him particularly, apart from when being muscled off the ball or on the receiving end of a particularly spirited dead-arm. When it came to dribbling or keepy-ups, Will could still kick his mate's arse anyway.

Although perhaps no longer able to cut it with his brawn Will definitely had the edge when it came to brains. When he'd decided to study for his A-levels at the traditional, stick-in the-mud grammar school rather than the local college, Ant had deployed every put-down he could come up with to let Will know just what a geeky swot he was going to become at that poncy school. Will had known it was a defence mechanism but, perhaps against the odds, the two remained best mates even now, with Ant earning an apprentice brickie's wage while Will applied to universities.

"When Kiddy told me I honestly thought it was a piss-take," Will laughed. I mean, in what fucking universe is that gonna be a punishment?"

Ant shook his head and picked up the Playstation controller, nodding at Will that they were going to resume play. "Such a lucky fucker," he said again. "I'm out freezing my tits off every day and you're mincing about with a load of fuckin' tarts."

"Kiddy reckons I'm not a team player and need to earn the right to play footy again. As if! I'm so over football. I just get a fucking kicking every week now anyway off some great lumbering oaf. Go! I'm covering you," Will said as he unleashed a volley of machine gun fire as Ant sent his character sprinting towards the safety of an overturned jeep.

"I can't believe they still make you do PE," said Ant, lobbing a grenade. "And wear a uniform. So gay." The grenade exploded, taking out the sniper that had Will pinned down. "Go on then, homo," he nodded at the screen.

"It's not a fucking uniform, it's a suit and anyway, I'm not complaining, am I?" Will said. "This Julia's fit as fuck."

"Big tits?" Ant asked.

"Not massive. Nice though. Good legs too".

"She taller than you?" Ant laughed.

"Is she fuck. Not in her trainers, anyway."

Ant laughed. "Short arse. Women never go for blokes shorter than them, you know?"

"Bollocks," said Will. "What about Jenny? She's taller than me."

"Yeah, and did you get a shag off her?"

He hadn't. Not for want of trying. "Fair enough," Will conceded. "Neither did you!"

"Nah but I did off Michelle an hour after she dumped you."

Will looked at his friend. "What?"

Ant looked at him and stuck his tongue out. "Over the bonnet of me dad's Mondeo!"

Will shook his head with an element of exasperation. Fine, that didn't break the code but it was still pretty out of order. Especially as Michelle hadn't let Will shag her once in their two months together. "Remind me why I still hang round with you?"

"My wit and charm," Ant said, then punched his arm again.

"Ow!" Will shouted. "Fucking pack it in."

"Oh give over, you big ponce. Right, we're nearly there," he said looking at the screen intently. "You go right to that bunker then we've done it."

Will reloaded his gun and set off. It might not have been the most important aspect of his life but cracking this mission was certainly up there. Suddenly his avatar was vapourised and the noise of a colossal explosion reverberated around the array of speakers in Ant's bedroom. "What the fuck?" Will shouted as he looked at Ant in disgust. "Nice teamwork, prick."

Ant blew him a kiss. "What would you know about that?" he grinned.

Friday night had meant a night in the Red Lion for as long as Will and Ant and a few of the others had been able to get served. Before that it'd had been a case of sending whoever reckoned they could convince the bloke in the off-licence that the piss-poor fake ID they were inspecting was at least vaguely genuine to buy a shopping list's worth of booze for everyone else. One way or another they'd usually managed to procure enough alcohol to make the fields behind the church seem like a fine venue for an evening of intoxication. As it was, enough time had passed for just about all of their crowd to be able last a night in the pub without being expelled for being underage. The Lion was the pub of choice for the younger generations and, as usual, it was mostly filled with drinkers of their age, some a bit older, and some a bit younger, gamely trying their luck at the bar. Where you went once you'd hit 23 was of no consequence to Will and his mates but it certainly wasn't the Lion on a Friday night. Who went in the during the week was a mystery but come the weekend it was usually heaving.

The Lion had, over the years, attracted a similar clientele to the one it maintained today although gone were the days when 16 year olds could happily sit at the bar with a pint as if they were old-timers and the low ceilings kept the place thick with pungent weed smoke. Even though the place had been taken over by a landlord who saw licensing laws as more than mere suggestions, the Lion still attracted the young crowd, ever shifting as people got older, left the town, or -- at 23 -- moved on to drink somewhere else. On a Friday night, there was the kind of mingling of ages that wouldn't happen at school and older brothers and sisters could often be found in there. Ant's brother Mark was one of these and he joined them at their table having been outside for a smoke.

"All right lads," he said, pulling a stool underneath him as he sat.

"All right bruv," said Ant.

"Sup Mark," Will said. "How's work?"

"Boring. Thank fuck it's the weekend," he said, toying with his pint glass. "Wish I'd stayed at fuckin' uni now."

Mark had first delighted, then disappointed his family by being the first to go to university, only to decide a regular wage was more appealing a year into his course. Three years down the line, he was still ruing his decision.

"Yeah you always wanted money though didn't you Mark?" Will reminded him.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled, and took a drink. "You decided where you're going yet?" he asked Will.

"Not definitely. Got a couple in mind."

"He's going to fuckin' Oxbridge. Brainy cunt," Ant told his brother.

"Jesus, it's either Oxford or Cambridge, you thick bastard," Mark said. "Anyway, I'm not surprised. You're too clever for this town. Get out while you can."

"I'm not that clever anyway. Brighton, maybe," said Will quietly and swirled his glass. His leaving was a bit of a sore point between he and Ant. Inside Will couldn't wait to leave the dank northern town and see what he could make of himself but he'd never let Ant know that, who seemed to think university would be a three year hiatus for their friendship which would pick up where it left off when Will came home after graduating.

"You heard what this lucky git's doing at school?" Ant asked Mark.

Mark shook his head. "What's that then?"

"He got booted off the pitch for being a cocky bastard and has to play netball with the girls as punishment."

Mark sorted into his pint. "What sort of fucking punishment is that?" he laughed.

"I know!" Ant shouted. "Lucky little shit, you are," he said to Will who shrugged and sat back.

"Might take me a while to lean the error of my ways, that's true," Will said, grinning.

"Such a fucked-up school," Ant said, shaking his head.

"Plenty of totty then?" Mark asked.

"Oh yes," Will nodded.

"How do you hide your boner?" Mark asked, laughing.

"Ha! You couldn't fuckin' see it anyway, micro cock!" said Ant.

"Working the old Weston charm on any of 'em yet?" Mark asked.

"Only got sent there on Wednesday," Will said. "Give us a chance!"

"I though Julia was the girl for you?" Ant asked.

"For fuck's sake, I only said she as fit," said Will. "I only talked to her for ten minutes."

"Julia eh?" said Mark. "What's she like then?"

"Tall, blonde, blue eyes. Nice legs."

"Big tits?" Mark asked.

Will laughed. "You two are fucking obsessed with big tits. That's the first thing he asked me, too," he said, gesturing at Ant.

"So," Mark grinned. "Does she?"

"Big enough," Will smiled. "She sounds posh. Southern."

"Well that's you fucked then," said Ant. "Out of your league already."

Mark stopped, his glass at his mouth. "Not called Miller, is she?"

"Dunno, didn't hear her surname," said Will.

"I used to know a blonde lass called Amanda Miller who had a little sister called Julia. She was southern. Fit, too. Mandy Miller," he said dreamily. "Dirty as fuck, she was," he grinned.

"Get in there Willy-boy!" shouted Ant, whacking his friend on the arm. "Get her on Facebook," he said, pulling out his phone. "She got any hot selfies? I could do with a wank."

"How the fuck would I know?" said Will. "I don't even know if it's her."

"Find out," Mark said, pointing his empty glass at Will. "Ask her if she remembers me."

"Why would she?" Ant asked.

"Cos she used to come in Mandy's room after we'd done it and ask us all about it. Mandy used to tell her everything."

"Fucking hell," said Will and Ant together.

"Exactly. Little minx. Just think how much she'll have learned by now. Their dad's loaded, too. Owns a load of clubs and gig venues. They've got a massive mansion out near the country park. Near where all the footballers are."

"Fuck me, Will," said Ant. "You seriously need to get in there." He picked up his phone. "Let's have a look for Julia Miller. I deffo need a wank now."

Mark shook his head at his brother and stood up. "It's your fucking round dickhead. I'll be with the lads," he said, gesturing across the pub. "Later, Will."

"Later, Mark."

Will woke up late on Saturday morning with a significant hangover and the accompanying horniness that, in the absence of anyone else to help him, he would have to take care of himself before he contemplated leaving his bed. He fumbled amongst the detritus on the untidy floor for his iPad and woke the incredible porn machine. On his way to a favourited site he recalled Mark's sordid tales and Ant's eagerness to cyber-stalk the delectable Julia and made a detour to Facebook on the off chance that she was the kind of girl that posted blatantly attention-grabbing photos of herself for all to see and comment on. He wasn't disappointed. Within seconds Will was immersed in a vast array of photos of Julia and her friends. Julia in her bedroom, Julia in her friend's bedroom, Julia in the garden, Julia in a pool, and eventually, just what he'd been hoping for: a half-naked Julia wearing nothing but her French knickers, hand across her tits, pouting for her own camera and now, for the next couple of minutes anyway, just for Will.

123456...9