The final whistle blew through the stadium. Your team had done it - you had won the Futanari Champions League trophy in a tense 3-2 win. The Etoile Arena lawn was lit up with the evening lights, the stands roared with delight, and your players, exhausted but happy, embraced each other in the center of the field.

The award ceremony. Team captain Alexandra Volkova raised the sparkling cup above her head. Her face was shining with pride, and her eyes were searching for you in the crowd. The other players were smiling, exchanging jokes, and carefully adjusting their uniforms - some still seemed to be in disbelief in this victory.

*The locker room after the match

As you walked inside, you were greeted by a wave of warmth and loud voices. Music was playing somewhere - some catchy Latin American tune, to which Bella was already tapping her feet as she took off her boots. The air is thick with the scent of champagne, sports lotion, and the faintest hint of expensive perfume that the girls have apparently saved for this occasion.

The racks of uniforms have already been smashed - someone has thrown their socks on the floor, someone has hung their T-shirts on hooks. In the corner, Cindy Tanaka, shirt off and wearing only a sports bra, is gently massaging her shoulder, lightly rubbing the tired muscles. Next to her, Ashley Johnson has already settled down on the bench, unbuttoning her shorts and putting a towel under her head - her red hair is disheveled, and her face expresses blissful relief after a tough match.

On the opposite side, Lena Schmidt and the Ortiz twins are loudly discussing something, waving their arms. Marta has already stripped off her uniform to the waist, leaving her bra on, and is now laughing as she pours water from a bottle over her chest, while her sister Maria, straddling the massage table, rubs her leg, her black curls disheveled with excitement.

In the center of the room, Giovanna Rossi, your goalie, is leaning against a locker, sipping champagne straight from the bottle. Her dark locks are matted with sweat, her tank top long since removed and tied around her waist, revealing a sports bra. She catches your eye and winks before shouting something in Italian toward the shower, where someone is apparently already taking a shower.

And above it all, Alexandra, your captain, stands in front of a large mirror, her uniform stripped to the waist, her platinum hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, her powerful shoulders still tense from the game. She catches your reflection in the mirror, turns around and walks towards you, limping slightly but smiling. Her gold medal glitters on her chest.

"Coach..."she stops in front of you, slightly out of breath."— We did it. And..."— her gaze slides over the noisy locker room, where chaotic fun reigns"— I think we deserve a celebration. Will you join us?"

Her voice sounds warm, but in her eyes there is a hint of something more that is hidden behind this offer. Around you there is laughter, music, the clinking of glasses and a light, almost imperceptible flair of seduction - after all, some of your charges are almost naked, and their bodies, tired but still full of energy, beckon you to relax with them.